Chapter 17: 16 - The strength of resentment
«L-LYON!!!» Ayra stammers furiously. «DON'T YOU DARE LOSE TO HIM, AM I CLEAR?!»
Her screams are so loud they would have reached my ears even without the earpiece.
I decide to blissfully ignore her; this is no time to let myself get distracted by her yelling. Blood Words are incredibly powerful spells, but they have a flaw: to use the same BloodWord again, at least an hour must pass since the previous use. The fight started just a few minutes ago, so unfortunately, I can no longer summon my devastating crimson sword. As if that weren't enough, my repertoire of BloodWords is rather limited. Besides Telum, I can only perfectly wield Obice, while I only began dabbling in the rudiments of a third BloodWord Lv 1 last night... the situation is becoming increasingly dire. Without even the basics of Vis
magic, I can't hope to engage in close combat—he'd destroy me—but right now, I have no other choice!
Luke closes the distance immediately, and I don't retreat.
A rapid exchange of blows follows, his strikes far more precise and effective than mine. It's not just better mastery of Vis energy; it's pure combat technique. He probably practiced some kind of martial art before his death, while the most I've done is get into scuffles on the field with players from opposing teams.
I try to block his attacks and counter, but all I get is a violent barrage of kicks and punches delivered with great skill. The last strike, thrown with incredible force, sends me flying against the arena's far edge. My back crashes into the red barrier separating me from the stands.
I knew it... I knew it would end in a bloodbath, but I tried to engage him up close, hoping to buy a sliver of time to cast Obice, and yet it was all useless.
I struggle to my feet, blood dripping from my mouth and nose, while my left hand presses against my aching side, likely due to a broken rib.
«Lyon, why are you ignoring me?!» Ayra presses, angry. Unfortunately, there's no way to hang up on her as if it were a normal phone call. «Use your perverted power and think of me! Think of my naked body! Remember when I lay naked on top of you after drinking your blood!»
«As if I weren't already doing that!»
Ayra's body drives me wild. Her hips, her breasts—everything is etched in my mind like a perfect, indelible photograph, yet my strength doesn't seem to increase, not even when I push my fantasies to their limits. I'm imagining her and me, completely naked on her bed, kissing, our bodies entwined and united... but I think this is my current limit, and I can't do more, even fantasizing about the most obscene scenarios.
«What are you waiting for? Use thatBlood
Word!» she continues, her voice as angry as it is worried.
«You yourself said it's a double-edged sword and that, if not mastered perfectly, it could damage my body so much that it might cost me the match!»
«The match is already lost; one more hit and you're down! And your body... I couldn't care less! Use that spell already! I'm your master; you're supposed to obey!» Her voice is filled with an anger like never before.
«Fine...» I mutter through gritted teeth.
Meanwhile, Luke advances toward me. His movements are quick, but noticeably slower than before. Finally, all the blood he's lost—and continues to lose from the wound inflicted by my sword—is starting to wear him down. Even his Vis energy feels weaker and more erratic. Ayra is right; one more hit and I'm done, but given his condition, the same goes for him.
As he closes in, I see his fiery blue aura gather from his entire body into a single point—his right fist. He's preparing to unleash one last, devastating attack, concentrating all his remaining energy into it. A blow that will surely be lethal but slow, the perfect conditions for...
«BloodWord: Obice!» I thrust my arm forward and cast the spell when his fist is about a meter away from me. A viscous, scarlet disk stops it before it can land and then...
«The winner is Lyon Valakys!» the announcer declares enthusiastically, immediately followed by cheers and applause from the stands, as Luke lies motionless on the ground, hurled to the opposite side of the arena by the reflective effects of Obice.
I collapse to my knees, utterly drained, with not a single drop of energy left.
«LYOOOON, YOU'RE THE BEST!!!» Ayra's screams don't come from the earpiece this time but from... -THUD! The moment the announcer declared the winner, she jumped to her feet from her seat and threw herself at me, knocking me onto the dirt floor. She lands on top of me, my face smothered between her ample breasts as she hugs me tightly.
«Ayra, you're such a hypocrite...» I murmur with the last shred of voice I have left, while simultaneously savoring this brief moment of glory from the crowd and comfort between my master's large breasts.