I can’t even follow them with my eyes... Cynthia thought, gripping the windowsill.
Nolan felt the weight in Lyra’s strikes. She’s right. She’s getting stronger... her punches carry more weight than mine now. Because of the behemoth’s power. But— he smirked— I’m faster.
He let his speed climb. Their fists blurred, the count skyrocketing—two hundred exchanges in the span of a single second. Lyra braced, but the rhythm was tilting toward him.
She suddenly swung a sharp kick toward his jaw. Nolan caught her leg midair, twisted, and tossed her aside. But Lyra wasn’t finished. She rotated in the air, body perfectly balanced, and unleashed a volley of midair kicks at him before her feet could even touch the ground.
Nolan raised his guard, teeth clenched. "Impressive," he muttered, bracing for the storm of strikes.
The wind rippled through the garden, yet it wasn’t strong enough to move their bodies. Only their fists and legs blurred through the air, clashing again and again. Their punches were so fast, each strike carved bursts of wind, rustling the trees and scattering leaves as if a storm were about to descend.
Wow... this is actually fun. No wonder she’s a Behemoth, Nolan thought as their fists continued to collide with explosive force. Official source is NoveIＦire.net
Lyra suddenly stepped back, lowering her stance.
"Let’s switch it up," she said with a grin.
Nolan nodded. "Yeah."
In an instant, Lyra leapt high into the air, unleashing a flurry of rapid kicks. Nolan raised his arms, blocking each blow as he slid backward across the ground. She landed gracefully, spinning into a sharp kick aimed for his head. Nolan ducked, countering with a strike to her stomach—only for her to return the same kick right into his abdomen.
They rushed at each other again, trading kick after kick, their legs colliding with heavy thuds. Nolan aimed for her head, but Lyra caught the strike and shoved it aside before landing a counter to his shoulder.
"Stop holding back," Lyra said.
"Okay," Nolan replied, smirking.
They poured more strength into their kicks, the impacts growing louder, fiercer—until Lyra suddenly jumped back, raising her hand.
"That’s enough. That was actually fun," she said, breathing lightly.
"Wait, that’s it? Aren’t we going for another round?" Nolan asked, catching his breath.
Lyra shook her head. "No. I think I should get something to eat."
"You’re giving up just for food? Are you really that much of a foodie?" Nolan teased.
She shot him a glare. "What do you mean that much? When I first ate human food, I realized what I’d been missing my whole life. After that, my whole perspective changed. Now... I just want to keep eating it. It’s too good to resist."
With that, Lyra turned away, leaving Nolan smiling as she walked back toward the house.
Not too bad, Nolan thinks as Lyra disappears inside. At least she’s not too hard on me. It was fun—he brought out his sword and watched it catch the light. Tomorrow I want to face him, face to face. I want to see what he’s really like. This time I’ll make sure I break every bone in his body. That’ll be the fight where I disgrace him.
I look down at the blade and my mind drifts back to the hero — the recent hero who sat beside the king in the high seats of the arena. He’s strong, sure, but not unbeatable. I haven’t seen Luthar, but if Luthar fought him, Luthar would win. The hero isn’t that strong — Kyrion might even be stronger.
Funny to think about: if the hero wasn’t summoned I’d probably still be stuck back in that lousy world, cleaning toilets as a janitor. Life here changed so fast. I can’t believe it. Nolan lifts his face to the sky and lets the night air clear his head.
"Well, what happens, happens. I won’t repay Luthar for what he did to me, Cynthia. And I’m grateful I’m in this world. I don’t have to think about money anymore. I can buy anything I want—a house, a carriage, food whenever I’m hungry. I can sleep when I want to sleep. It’s really great," Nolan said, stretching his arms as if savoring his freedom.
Then he heard a noise outside the gate. Curious, he stepped out and blinked. Two white houses stood beyond the gate, and in front of them, a carriage gleamed beneath the sun.
"Wow... is that a carriage? My first time seeing one . I only ever saw them in the games I played. It’s really amazing." Nolan admired the polished wood and ornate gold lining.
The door opened, and figures stepped down. The moment Nolan recognized them, his expression hardened. Alaric, Seraphira, Nymera, Galad, Alaric’s whole party.
Alaric walked toward the gate, his smile bright. "Hey, Nolan. I came to see you."
Nolan glanced at him, then deliberately turned away. "You don’t exist," he muttered. "I’ll just pretend I never saw you." With that, he began walking back.
"Hey, wait—don’t go, Nolan!" Alaric called.
The gate creaked open. Cynthia stepped out and faced them calmly. "Welcome. How can I help you? But... I should tell you, this house is already occupied. Please, feel free to find another place if you’re looking for lodging."
Alaric raised his hands quickly. "No, no, no. We’re not here to lodge. We’re here to see Nolan—he’s a friend."
Cynthia’s brow furrowed. "A friend? Then why did he just ignore you like you were nothing? Doesn’t look like friendship to me."
Alaric chuckled softly. "We’re just... that kind of friends," he said with a smile that tried to hide the tension.
"Okay, since you say he’s a friend, come in," Cynthia said.
"Master, do you really need to?" Seraphina snapped, eyes flashing. "How dare he? Dare he insult you like that—walk away because he hasn’t been dealt with?" Her hand drifted to the hilt at her hip; an amulet glinted at her throat.
"No, no—there will be no need for that," Alaric replied quickly, holding up both hands as if to soothe a rising tide.
Galad stepped forward, voice low and measured. "Do you think you can defeat him? Didn’t you see the match? You watched how strong he is."
Seraphina tightened her grip on the sword. "It doesn’t matter if I fought him. I will make sure I don’t lose," she said, flat and dangerous.
"Alright, alright," Nymera cut in, her tone attempting to smooth the edge. "Let’s forget about that for now. Come on—let’s go in."