Chapter 32: She Killed Space this Time
The King’s voice boomed across the hall.
"Everyone, make your way to the training grounds on the far side of the castle," he commanded. "We shall hold the duel there. It’s tradition, after all."
Nobles began murmuring, rising from their seats, rustling silk and velvet filling the air as they prepared to move.
But Belle didn’t move.
She tilted her head slightly, as if mildly inconvenienced by the thought of walking anywhere. "That won’t be necessary, Your Majesty," she said softly.
Alios frowned, confused. "Pardon?"
Belle turned her blindfolded gaze toward the vast hall, and the corners of her lips curved upward. Then, with the same tone she might use to comment on the weather, she whispered—
"Die."
The word rippled through reality.
The chandeliers flickered, the marble floor cracked in fractal patterns, and for a single heartbeat, the world itself stopped breathing.
Then, space folded.
The air twisted, light bent, and suddenly the scent of polished stone and perfume was replaced by the faint smell of steel, sweat, and open air.
We were no longer in the ballroom.
The mile-long royal training ground stretched beneath our feet, smooth stone, wide and flat, enclosed by golden wards. The stands shimmered with protective barriers, and banners bearing the royal crest fluttered in the sudden wind.
Gasps filled the air. A few nobles screamed outright.
"What—what just happened!?" someone stammered, eyes wide, clutching at their chest as if their heart had been left behind in the palace.
I sighed, dusting nonexistent dirt off my sleeve. "Relax," I said, my tone casual, almost bored. "She just killed space."
Dozens of horrified stares turned toward me.
Belle, as usual, looked perfectly unbothered, maybe even faintly amused.
I’d seen it happen enough times to stop flinching. The first few times were terrifying, sure, feeling the world itself die for a second, but now? It was just another day with Belle Ardent. But she really did farm a lot of aura right now. I should take notes.
The shock of Belle’s spell rippled through the crowd like a storm, nobles clutching pearls, muttering prayers, staring around in disbelief. The world itself had just blinked, and none of them were ready for it.
Except one.
King Alios von Velkaris took a single, steady breath, straightened his posture, and regained command of the moment in less than a heartbeat.
"As expected of a king," I muttered under my breath.
His sharp gaze swept over the chaos, voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "All spectators, up to the stands. Now. Only the duelists remain on the field."
No one dared to disobey.
The nobles began to move, still whispering, their silks and jewels catching the light as they filed toward the elevated seats surrounding the training grounds. Even the generals and archdukes kept their eyes low when they passed Belle—none of them willing to risk drawing her attention.
Soon, the stands were full. The air settled. The sound of footsteps faded.
Only two figures remained in the center of the field.
Onecent, his royal crest gleaming faintly on his chestplate, he stood with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
And me with a plain black sword in my hands.
I rolled my shoulders, my grin lazy and confident. "Give it your all, prince," I said, the words echoing faintly across the open arena. "Wouldn’t want you crying later about not trying hard enough."
He didn’t answer.
His eyes were fixed on me steady, cold, and burning with something between anger and pride.
Fine by me.
Silence fell across the grounds, thick with expectation.
The duel was about to begin.
---
Onecent, moved first, predictably.
A perfect downward strike, clean and sharp, the kind of form that would make any instructor proud. I caught it on my blade, steel shrieking against steel, sparks scattering across the stone like falling stars.
He pressed forward. I parried, side-stepped, and turned his momentum against him. The prince fought like in a textbook style disciplined, efficient, and painfully rigid.
Then again, that’s what royal training does to you. It chisels out creativity until all that’s left is polished technique.
I smiled faintly. Cute.
He came in again, faster this time, blade cutting low toward my leg. I deflected, spun, and brought my sword up in a lazy guard. He glared, maybe realizing that no matter how hard he swung, I wasn’t taking him seriously.
I sighed. "You know," I said, keeping my voice light, "this would go faster if you stopped holding back."
"I could say the same to you," he spat.
Touché.
I let a breath slip past my lips and opened the floodgates.
The air around me thickened instantly.
A black mist rolled out from my feet, subtle at first, then swelling like a living thing. The light dimmed. The temperature dropped.
Onecent froze mid-step, his eyes widening slightly as something invisible pressed down on him.
My death aura.
At E-rank, it wasn’t strong enough to kill anything outright, but it didn’t need to be. It gnawed at the nerves. Made your instincts scream that something ancient and hungry had just noticed you.
The stands fell silent. I could feel the stares from every direction, confusion, unease, and fear.
Only a handful of people in this empire knew what my affinity was. Belle. Maybe two others. To everyone else, I was just a talented swordsman, Belle Ardent’s student.
Not a walking omen.
Onecent’s grip faltered for half a second. I stepped forward, our blades meeting again, but this time, he felt it.
The pressure. The decay. The whisper of mortality brushing his skin.
"Guess I should explain something," I said conversationally, pushing him back. "About my death affinity."
He didn’t answer, too focused on keeping his balance as my aura ate away at his composure.
"See, people think Death means power like Belle’s." I twirled my sword once, watching the dark mist cling to its edge like smoke. "The kind that kills with a word. But I’m not her."
The veins in my hand pulsed faintly black as I fed mana into my weapon.
"I can’t kill concepts, or stop time, or end existence. Not yet."
The aura rippled outward, spreading across the stone like oil.
"What I can do," I continued, stepping forward, "is make life rot."
My blade’s glow dimmed from white to ashen gray, and wherever it moved, the air seemed to wither.
"Decay. Corruption. Poison. That’s the kind of death I deal in."
Onecent swung again, but his movements were slower now. Hesitant. The aura was doing its job, sapping strength, draining will.
I blocked, twisted, and forced him back another step.
"Don’t worry," I said, smiling faintly. "I’m not going to erase you from existence or anything."
The death mana hissed along my sword, the scent of ozone and rot mingling in the air.
"I’m just going to make you rot a little."
The prince’s face hardened. Fear flickered behind his eyes.
And I couldn’t help but grin wider.
Now this was getting fun.