Chapter 33: Am I Gay?
Onecent moved first, blade blazing gold, cutting through the air like a comet. I didn’t move until the last instant, parrying with a single smooth motion.
Steel screamed. Sparks burst.
Golden light clashed against black decay, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath.
His attacks were clean. Every swing precise, every step perfect. He fought like a man trained to win in front of an audience.
Cute.
Huh, why did I say that? Am I gay?
I twisted my sword, slid under his guard, and brushed my blade against his pauldron. The metal hissed. A thin trail of corrosion spread across the gold like ink seeping through paper.
He jumped back instantly, eyes narrowing.
Ill think about this later.
I smirked. "Something wrong?"
He didn’t answer, only pressed his palm against the mark. Light flared, bright and holy, trying to burn the rot away. It fought hard, purity against death, but death doesn’t yield. It lingers. It stains. Even after the light faded, the metal stayed dull, lifeless, wrong.
His jaw tightened.
He lunged again, faster this time, light bursting around him in radiant waves. His blade met mine, and every impact threw off a burst of force that rippled across the field.
Holy energy washed over my death mana like water over oil, it dulled it, slowed it—but it couldn’t erase it. My decay spread back every time he tried to cleanse it, crawling over his light like mold reclaiming stone.
We clashed again. And again.
He was starting to sweat.
I, on the other hand, was barely trying.
I parried his next swing with one hand, letting a pulse of rot ride the impact. The air shimmered—stone cracked beneath our feet as tendrils of black energy crawled outward, eating at the ground.
Onecent leapt away, landing in a burst of radiant fire that scorched the terrain clean, but only for a moment before the corruption crept back.
I couldn’t help but grin. "You can burn it all you like, Your Highness. Death always comes back."
His response was another flash of gold - Purification Ray - that slammed into me before I could finish the sentence. I slid backward, coat smoking, ribs aching, grin still intact.
He didn’t know it, but I was testing him.
This wasn’t a duel. It was an experiment.
I let more of my mana bleed out thick, heavy, suffocating. The temperature dropped. The torches around the arena dimmed as the shadows stretched and thickened, and nobles watching from above instinctively backed away.
My death aura was only E-rank, but even then, it made the living remember what dying felt like.
The prince’s golden light flared, fighting back the fear crawling through the crowd. He was strong, I’d give him that. A perfect test subject.
He came at me again, sword blazing with layered purification sigils. Our blades collided, the impact sending a shockwave that cracked the barrier around the arena. The pure light burned at my skin, but my death mana clung to it, feeding off the energy instead of fleeing.
I laughed under my breath. "Oh, that’s interesting."
I guess he didn’t appreciate that. His next strike came faster and harder, catching me off guard. His blade grazed my shoulder, carving a searing line through flesh.
Pain flared. For half a second, then the wound glowed white—then faded as my skin knitted back together.
No one noticed.
Not even him.
Life mana worked quietly, almost politely, mending what death had missed.
Onecent blinked, confusion flickering across his face as I straightened up, unbothered. "Didn’t expect that?" I asked.
He didn’t answer, but his stance shifted, more cautious now. Good.
I twirled my sword lazily, rot crawling up its length like black fire. "Come on, Onecent. Don’t slow down now. I was starting to have fun."
He gritted his teeth and unleashed another radiant strike, brighter than before. The ground between us exploded, light and shadow spiraling into chaos.
Each clash was louder, heavier, the air thick with two powers that shouldn’t coexist. His light purified everything it touched—but death mana was older, deeper, the foundation of the world’s end. It didn’t die. It couldn’t, as it was death itself.
Our blades locked again, sparks flying, darkness eating at gold.
He pushed forward, pouring mana into his sword until the glow turned blinding. I leaned in, unflinching, my aura flaring back with enough pressure to make the air groan.
His light cracked first.
The golden sheen along his sword splintered, corruption biting into the fracture like teeth.
He jumped back, clutching his weapon, eyes wide for the first time.
I tilted my head, smiling faintly. "Guess we found the limit of your little purification trick."
He didn’t reply. He just reset his stance, chest heaving, light flickering unsteadily.
I stood straight, rolled my shoulders, and let the black aura ripple outward again. "Relax, Onecent. You’re not fighting to win."
I stepped forward, dragging my sword across the ground. The earth hissed, turning to gray dust.
"You’re fighting to learn how to lose beautifully."
He lunged first, faster than before, the air crackling with divine energy. The radiance stung against my skin like needles. I stepped aside, let his blade pass through a smear of smoke, and countered with a lazy backhand. The collision sent a jolt through the arena floor, stone splintering beneath our feet.
"Nyxian Dirge," I murmured. My breath fogged, black and cold. "First Form — Breath of Renewal."
The deathly aura shifted. My heartbeat slowed. Every breath felt cleaner, sharper, feeding me instead of draining me. The tiny cuts, bruises, and burns I’d taken simply... vanished, fading into the nothingness my mana loved so much.
Onecent blinked, disbelief flashing across his face. He swung again, reckless now. Light arced like molten gold, slamming into my guard. The impact shook the air, but I didn’t move. My boots stayed rooted, a black pillar in a sea of radiance.
He attacked again. And again. Each strike grew faster, brighter, desperate. The light stung, but couldn’t pierce me. My aura devoured it like a dying flame gasping for air.
Then I moved.
One step. One breath. One strike.
"Hollow Thrust."
The sword disappeared. The sound came a heartbeat later—like thunder cracking through water.
The golden light that had filled the arena shattered in a single pulse.
When it cleared, Onecent was down on one knee, his broken sword embedded uselessly in the floor. His hands trembled as he tried to rise, but his body wouldn’t listen. The veins in his neck stood out, his breathing shallow and uneven.
He tried again, gasping, a low sound of pain escaping his throat. The golden light flickered along his skin, failing to form.
His armor was cracked, the symbol of the royal crest burned and blackened at the center. A faint violet steam rose from the mark, hissing as it met the air.
He coughed once. Blood spattered the ground.
The crowd above had gone completely silent no whispers, no gasps, nothing. Even the sound of the wind outside the coliseum felt like it stopped to listen.
I stepped forward, sword dragging lazily through the dust. The air still trembled where my last strike had passed, distorted like glass caught in heat.
He tried to lift his weapon again, but his arms wouldn’t move. His connection to his arms was gone, cut clean.
"Don’t worry," I said softly. My voice echoed in the stillness. "You’ll recover. This isn’t enough to kill you."
His gaze lifted to mine, wide, hollow, filled with something that wasn’t just fear. He had felt it, the edge that reached past flesh and mana and touched the soul itself.
I tilted my head slightly, a small smile tugging at my lips."Now you understand."
He flinched when I stepped closer, my aura brushing against him like cold smoke.
"You don’t beat death," I said, turning my blade away. "You only delay it."