Chapter 182: 182. “…Don’t come complaining later.”

"Every muscle, bone, or nerve is messed up in some way. Don't even make me talk about the magic circuits…" Arima grumbled as he stood up. Just that already made him go through violent pain.

"Night," Arima called but Night didn't respond. Actually, the soul beast hid deep to escape any kind of scolding. "…We'll talk later. Malum as well," he stated and looked up. His eyes fell on both Fafnir and Jorga, who was riding Deva.

He then inspected his own body and groaned. He couldn't heal himself with the Fifth White Art since he noticed that the path of his circuits was overloaded. Arima summoned his gun and simply stared at Fafnir for now.

He didn't know how long Jorga would take to receive the full inheritance but he could tell it had already begun as Jorga's aura was rising very quickly.

As he thought that, Fafnir abruptly landed in front of him and twisted the landscape. Arima frowned when he saw how big the golden dragon had become. He glanced the eyes and exclaimed in surprise.

"Oh, so you're still lucid, huh?"

Fafnir snorted. "Of course, I am. I'm not weak enough to be controlled by my own power."

"You say that, but your power was something you got from an exterior curse wasn't it? It's not really yours."

"I had thousands of years to dominate it. Odin’s pathetic curse will not beat me," Fafnir scoffed and stepped forward. His eyes flashed in anger. "And you. You stole my possessions. I know you're weak at the moment. Be prepared to die."

Arima laughed and pointed Superore at Fafnir. "This isn't enough for you to get the upper hand. I only gave Malum the control because I knew I wouldn't be able to last as long as him. That guy sucked my mana dry but I still have more than you overall anyway."

He smirked. "Now, tell me, what color do you prefer between white and black? Choose well, I only have enough mana to cast one of them," he said and Fafnir was taken aback.

The dragon's eyes shook for a moment. ‘Is he serious?’ Arima's expression revealed no sign of deceit. So, he was really asking Fafnir to choose which one he was going to use.

The golden dragon was perplexed and very hesitant. He had heard during the fight the magics Malum had chanted. He could understand that White Arts were about healing and body manipulation. But he didn't know anything about Black Arts. His opponent never used them. But the name was far from appealing.

"White," he chose. He absolutely couldn't go with Black. He at least knew that White Arts were not about dealing damage. And even if Arima heals himself with that magic, the mana he would've left would not be enough to beat Fafnir.

"Good choice," Arima nodded and grinned. "You were at this to choose to go through even more torture than what you experienced with the flames." Fafnir shuddered. "I'll show you the First White Art then," he declared and flapped his wings and retreated.

"As if I'd let you do it so easily," Fafnir transferred next to Arima and instantly threw a punch along with an explosive fire magic. But his eyes narrowed in surprise as he tilted his head to dodge Superore's bullets.

Arima got out of the flames without any injury whatsoever. He smiled and started firing a barrage of bullets. Superore was the best choice for Arima at the moment. Karma was injured and his gun was a weapon that didn't need any particular magic to function and only required mana to operate. On top of that, it was also powerful while being low-consumption.

Even Fafnir couldn't ignore that many bullets coming at him. He summoned his gold artillery and made it clash with the bullets. It turned into a long-range fight very quickly. Arima couldn't do any fast movement at the moment.

His magic circuits used for time magic had already been overworked and he knew that if he moved with the pain, his movements would be dull and slow. In the end, nobody can completely ignore the physical restraint of the body when it feels pain. Especially one of that magnitude.

On the other hand, Fafnir didn't really care that much about this ranged battle. He could teleport at will every five seconds. He was sure that he could prevent the First White Art's activation quite easily since his opponent seemingly couldn't use time spells anymore.

What occupied his mind instead was how Arima had dodged his attack earlier. He didn't see it clearly but when he tried to hit him, the black dragon's figure appeared to coil around his arm then strangely go over it.

Fafnir groaned. He couldn't ponder about it eternally. He made up his mind and moved right below Arima. He restricted the area with his gold shields and then extended his palm. A small fireball ignited and started spinning while releasing searing hot sparks. It quickly transformed into an insane flamethrower.

Arima was one more time shrouded by flames but his figure emerged again with merely a bit of smoke trailing him. Fafnir frowned and swung Excalibur at Arima.

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The latter looked at the sword calmly as it closed on him. It was then that Fafnir noticed some really discreet and small silver sparks around Arima's legs. When Excalibur was about to reach him, the sparks surrounding Arima suddenly brightened and his body shifted place at extreme speed.

His figure seemed to duplicate multiple times as he dodged the golden blade. It was beyond the level of an afterimage at that point. Fafnir saw it and fell in a daze. Arima casually strode and used the sword's flat as a stepstone to jump away.

Fafnir felt as if things were happening in slow motion and only when Arima jumped off did his sword resume its course, which he promptly halted. He then waved his hand and called upon his other weapons to counter Superore’s bullets.

His mind was thinking about what he had just witnessed. ‘What kind of magic was that? It's way too fast. It isn't time manipulation; there's no fluctuation. But it's not teleportation either since he was certainly translating through space…’

He mused and decided to test it again. He summoned two giant hammers and made them fall on Arima. The black dragon didn't even spare a glance at them as they approached him from his blind spots. His body simply moved away again. He wagged his wings lightly and landed on one of the hammers before jumping as he had done previously. He seemed to be able to completely ignore magical fluctuations and inertia altogether.

When Arima had retreated far enough, the silver sparks vanished. He smirked and raised Superore to aim at Fafnir. "[Third Red Art, Semita Vitisque Repertor] (Path Finder)," he whispered and lightning sparked around him for the split of a second.

When he heard his words, Fafnir's entire body froze. He glared at Arima then urgently looked behind him. "You fooled me!" He shouted. "You never intended to use any of your Arts when you asked me! It was just to make me doubt and hesitate!"

Arima chuckled and the place where Jorga was situated suddenly became filled with a light blue mist that even reached the two of them. The glimmering mist was amazingly pretty and contrasted with the dark color of space perfectly.

"Not exactly. I’m really gonna use the White Art. But that’s for later," Arima said and Fafnir gritted his teeth as he used his passive Manifestation again. The golden dragon appeared right in front of Arima with bloodshot eyes and swung two Excalibur's packed with fire magic.

Arima triggered the Third Art again and went through it like a breeze. The sword hit nothing but a huge discharge of fire spread to the surroundings. The shockwave only surprised Arima for a brief second before he evaded it.

The Third Red Art was a technique that acted on both the caster and the world as a whole. It was a continuous magic that theoretically could last forever. It was a very useful technique that allowed the caster to freely move across the world by taking the right 'path'.

In theory, you could evade anything with that magic. The world around you would show you the way and help you take it. That's why Arima appeared so fast. Every time he’d move in that state, anything around him; light, atoms, molecules, air, or essentially whatever, would carry him to escape the threat he is facing.

Of course, in exchange, the Art takes something; defense. Once cast, your defense would become zero. At the moment, maybe someone at the First Divine could kill Arima in one strike if he managed to land a hit.

But even if it meant no mistake allowed, Arima still appreciated this magic a lot. He had precisely created it for dire situations such as this one in the first place. The other disadvantage was that the mana used to keep 'Path Finder' active was monstrous. A few seconds might be enough to suck dry the mana of a god at the Third Divine for instance. That's why Arima only used it for a short moment when he had to escape an attack.

"I have a bad feeling about his…" Fafnir growled as he turned his head around.

The blue mist around Jorga had begun to converge in two different places. The shape was clear and a pair of reptilian eyes, full of sharpness and wisdom, was formed. Fafnir instinctively shuddered, much to his ire.

When the blue mist dispersed again and the eyes vanished, Fafnir exhaled and glared at the void before turning back toward Arima.

"You are the ones who forced me to use it," he paused. "…Don't come complaining later," he uttered and Arima raised an eyebrow.

Fafnir's body lit up with a golden light then disappeared afterward. Arima's eyes narrowed and he confirmed that Fafnir had not teleported anywhere near him.

"{What…? Did he flee,}" Night was confused.

‘It's now that you say something?’ Arima sighed and clicked his tongue. "No," he responded. "I think… that he physically went inside his Vault."

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