Chapter 19: Life or Death

It was his first time taking a life. Though he would normally try to ration that this was simply an artificial world, he knew that didn’t apply. Somehow, the people of this world were hardly artificial; it was just as real as the life he lived before. 

He looked at the steel sword that was now half-dyed in fresh blood, only looking up once one of the doors in the hall was kicked open. 

“Marlo! What happ–”

It was the man with the scarred, bald head. The words coming from his lips halted as he saw what had transpired in the corridor; the man’s complexion shifted into an angered red as he drew his blade from its sheath. 

“You little piece of shit! Do you know what you just did?! I’ll kill you!” The bald man roared out. 

All he could do was lift the sword up out of instinct as he defended against the unseen attack; the man, despite his burly build, moved swiftly like a feather, dashing the distance between them in an instant. 

CLANG. 

He slid back a good meter after blocking the blow, feeling his arms quivering just from guarding the powerful strike. 

So strong! He thought. 

For a moment, he saw the sigil of the Mountain God Style again, remembering that the cruel man in front of him was nothing less than an expert with his blade. 

Compared to that, he was a fish out of water. Even if he had the proper skills to match, in terms of physical prowess, he was trailing behind the man, who was rushing towards him again. 

“Gyuh!”

He hid behind his blade as another wide-arc slash came his way, defending against it but still being knocked back several meters from the strength behind it. 

“I’ll gut you, fucker!” The bald abductor said through his clenched teeth. 

The man clearly had an uncapped temper; he was slobbering with rage as he wildly swung his blade around. 

All of the training and sparring in the world couldn’t prepare him for this: a battle to the death against a man much stronger than himself. 

Come on…Magic, come on! He prayed. 

As the Mountain God Style Noble dashed forward him again with that blinding speed, he hid behind his sword, flinching as it was struck. 

This time, a knee came up, striking him in the gut and lifting him into the air as the force sent him up higher than the adult’s head. 

“Ghh-!” He spat out the breath from his lungs. 

Being kneed up into the air, his grip naturally loosened, dropping the sword down as his mind went black during that brief moment while airborne, though the moment crawled forward sluggishly. 

…He’s too strong. I can’t beat somebody like this…He thought. 

While in the air, falling as he struggled to kickstart his burning lungs again after receiving such a heavy blow to the gut, he looked up to see the bald, enraged man jumping up, rearing his leg back. 

It was a form he recognized picture-perfectly from when watching his father train; the Mountain God Style incorporated brawling into swordplay–he remembered this just as the man kicked him against the head. 

The air hissed from the powerful impact before he was knocked down against the stone floor. 

“Grhhh…”

He winced, coughing out blood as he laid flat against the ground. He looked up with his wavering sight, seeing his sword laying on the floor as he reached out to grab it. 

CRUNCH. 

“Aghh!”

A scream left from his lungs as the dirty boot from the adult stomped down on his fingers. 

While the man grinded his sole down against the small, pale fingers of the young boy, he held his enraged expression. 

“I’m going to make this slow. Spoiled brats like you never learn,” the bald man told him. 

Though it hurt to have his fingers pressed down on, feeling his bones be compromised, he realized the singular advantage he had: his opponent was blinded by rage. 

It was something drilled into him not just by Veldalla, but his father as well; each time he’d get frustrated during sparring, they’d show him just how little it helped him, and how a cool head rewarded him. 

“--”

He breathed in slowly, exhaling smoothly as he adjusted his breathing. 

“Come on–scream for me!” The man said, lifting his boot, preparing for a mighty stomp. 

Just then, he felt it flutter inside of him as if awakening from a lengthy slumber–the mystical warmth within. 

FWOOM. 

A massive shock wave propelled outward from his position; the wind howled like a banshee as the bald man was flung back across the hall. The swaying flames that sat on the lanterns were snuffed away by the cascade of sharp wind. 

It was a “Wind Blast” invoked with his utmost will, more powerful than any he had unleashed previously as it caused the dungeon to shake by its foundations. 

“What the–?!” The man growled. 

He picked himself up with a focused gaze, stretching his fingers as he clenched his fist a few times, feeling the mana flowing through his body properly again. 

A dull pain rang through his body after the visceral release of mana, but he ignored it. 

It’s back, he thought with a small smile. 

“...Tch,” the man clicked his tongue, wielding his sword with a proper stance this time, “Your magic is back? So what? A brat like you is nothing!”

As the man rushed towards him with a powerful dash, he responded by slamming both of his palms against the cold stone. Through an internal invocation, he created a thick wall of gray stone in front of the swordsman’s path. 

“--This won’t stop me!”

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The man roared out as he slashed his blade, cutting straight through the slab of sturdy material. After bisecting the barrier, the angered man looked around, not seeing the young bow anymore. 

“What…?”

Above?! The man realized. 

–Indeed. 

Through a gust of air propelled from the soles of his shoes, he had launched himself upward, aiming his palm down at the man as he clenched his teeth:

Imagine the wrath of flames, roaring and stretching their chaotic reach across the land! He thought. 

Coalescing in front of his outstretched hand, embers gathered before an orange flame was born, unleashing out a cone of roaring flames directly towards the bald man. 

“Ngh–?!”

He wasn’t experienced with fire magic, and it showed–flipping back with surprising nimbleness, the cruel criminal evaded the flames as they crashed against the floor, dissipating just as quick as they came. 

“...Grk,” he winced at the failed spell. 

Due to not being able to properly manifest it to its full potential, the flames died out, washing away like dust to the wind. 

“--You’ve got talent, but you’re just a kid at the end of the day! Too bad for you!”

With an acrobatic flip forward, the man hurled towards him as he jumped back with a burst of wind aiding him. 

Though it didn’t seem to be enough as an unorthodox maneuver came from the man; as he managed to leap out of reach from the spinning slash, he looked up to see the sword being flung towards him like a spear. 

What–? He threw his sword?! He thought. 

The Mountain God Style was certainly something imposing to face as he watched the blade spinning in the air towards him. 

“Ghh!”

Just as the tip scraped against his forehead, he invoked a blast of wind, knocking the blade back, but not before the man sprung towards him and threw his fist straight into his gut. 

“Pyuh-!” He spit out. 

The gut punch sent him tumbling backward as he manifested a protrusion of stone from the ground behind him to stop his tumble. He quickly picked himself up to see the man catch his airborne sword, rushing towards him again. 

It was terrifying to be faced against; the bald-headed criminal, layered in scars and wearing heavy leather armor, had such palpable bloodlust that was solidified by his status as a cruel, unforgiving person. 

This time, he threw his hands around, tossing compressed blasts of wind in an attempt to keep the man at bay, but the expert swordsman danced around his blasts–hopping off of the walls and flipping around. 

Something…! Think! He told himself. 

If wind didn’t work, he switched it up, planting his feet against the ground as he invoked magecraft that allowed him to manipulate the stone around him, creating small, sharpened projectiles that launched forward swiftly. 

The bald swordsman deflected the incoming stone arrowheads, but one managed to stick him in the arm. 

“Yes–”

Before he could celebrate, he realized the man was still pushing forward, grunting as his shoulder bled, but seeming even angrier than before. 

I have to do something…! He thought. 

As he racked his brain, an idea came to mind, but he was reluctant to do it. It was something definitely risky, but as he watched the man evade his spells effortlessly, he decided a risk had to be taken. 

He held his hand forward, concentrating as he drew further sweat from his pores while blood trickled down his forehead. 

Feel it heat up your blood; condense that destruction into the palm of your hand…! He thought. 

Visualizing the flames, it bore into reality as the small fireball swirled in front of his palm, but he wasn’t done yet. 

In addition to the element of fire, he manifested a swirl of wind around the newborn inferno, feeding it precious nutrients as the flame as its pale orange hue became a howling vermilion–

Just as the man dashed towards him, he unleashed the oxygen-fueled flame while stabilizing his spell-arm with his other hand. 

“Ghh-!”

“--!”

The criminal’s eyes widened at the last moment as once the young boy released the fed flame, it filled the width of the dingy corridor with its burning wrath. 

He nearly fell back from the massive expansion of wind that came from the flame’s birth. 

Holy shit…! He thought. 

The flood trembled beneath his boots as the great flame burrowed through the hall, swirling and displaying its destructive nature. 

It flashed its fangs for only a moment, but that seemed to be enough as once the flames dispersed into smoke, he could see the figure of the man standing in the hall. 

“--”

All of the flesh on the man’s body was charred; turned to a complete black as he lingered there for a moment before falling flat on his face. 

“...Huff…huff…”

He stood there for a moment, still holding his hand forward while catching his breath. The walls and floor were charred as well, laden with black burn marks that sat in the wake of the destructive flame. 

As the spell had left with an explosive percussion, his ears were left ringing as he watched ashen particles flutter in the air before him. 

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