Chapter 533 - Demon vs human (Patreon)

It’s amusing how a big part of my arsenal doesn’t work against him, as he doesn’t even bother to use mana beyond what’s absolutely necessary. Almost all of it is turned into kinetic energy.

I deploy my own Resonance Flow, and a big part of the sea’s surface immediately becomes calm. Whitey’s field and mine collide against each other as both of us fight for control.

He stays in Pulser Stance, while I shoot mana projectiles, conjure exploding orbs, and create lances that scar the air itself, leaving shimmering fields behind. The surface of the aircraft carrier beneath us cracks more and more as we both direct kinetic energy into it.

Unlike before, I don’t hold back. All my mana channels through my body to the point where Whitey becomes pale, the sheer amount threatening to knock him unconscious.

But the demon holds up.

His red eyes shine, and his heart changes its rhythm at an incredible speed. Needle Point, Pulser Stance, Wraith Dance, Resonance Flow, Steelroot, Counter Flow, Breaker Style—he uses all seven techniques in an incredible display of mastery over kinetic energy, employing them at the very limit to counter my own output, which keeps growing.

My attacks are explosive and even a partial hit would be enough to kill him. Yet he dodges, avoids them, and strikes back in turn.

A materialized [Ley Line] cuts the aircraft carrier apart again, but the ship doesn’t split. Whitey holds it with his kinetic energy, absorbing all that massive amount of momentum. But I know he can't handle that for too long. Unlike a brute like me, he can't channel such a massive output. There's a reason for that.

He flings it at me, forcing me to block it at the last second and sending me flying off the ship until I crash under the water.

I teleport again, appearing behind him, water still dripping off me as he turns around. Our fists collide, my Needle Point piercing his leg. An explosion sends him rolling, followed by [Empyrean Lance] closing in and exploding—but Whitey’s gone. I track his movement and detonate the floor under my feet, diving into the hangar below.

Whitey hurls a jet at me, boosting it with kinetic energy.

Armor forms around my body as the jet collides with me, erupting into a fireball. With a burst of kinetic energy, I fling the mangled remains aside, and the flames burn out as I absorb all the heat. A laser-like stream of golden fire shoots from me, slicing into the metal above Whitey’s head as he ducks. Molten metal drips from the edges of the cut, red-hot and glowing.

Whitey charges me again, and I opt to release a powerful surge of mana—no technique, no specific skill, just a colossal blast in one direction, something I’ve done before during the challenge.

Unlike his Lurker self, Whitey reacts with incredible speed, using Wraith Dance to slip aside. The kinetic field around him shifts, his entire body vibrating, letting my attack pass through him as though he isn’t there.

“Well, that’s new.” I transform all of my mana into golden flames that blaze around me, heating the surrounding metal to the point of glowing and raising the temperature in the hangar.

Whitey blasts through a nearly molten wall with a surge of kinetic energy, sending droplets of molten metal flying, and I follow right behind him.

“I saw Specter in your memories doing something like this. It took me six months, but I found a way to use my kinetic energy like that,” he answers smugly.

My lance pierces the wall near him, unleashing a dozen [Ley Lines] that materialize for a split second, slicing everything apart before another explosion of golden flames floods the corridor in Whitey’s wake. Wraith Dance propels me through the flames, then through the hole, until I land in the calm patch of the sea surrounding Whitey.

“Before you ask, I don’t think you’ll ever manage to pull that off. You’re more of a brute than someone who likes refined control,” he teases, stomping down.

Kinetic vibrations slam into the barrier I create.

At the same time, the destroyed carrier behind me collapses onto the sea, kicking up waves that freeze in midair, along with the ship itself. I reshape all that energy and release it through Needle Point. It’s thicker than a mere needle—nearly as large as a train—ripping the very air, churning the sea, and blasting past Whitey before piercing yet another carrier, which starts to shudder.

Both of us charge, my armor stretching around me as flames surge across my body.

Whitey strikes me, snuffing out the flames with a single powerful gust. He ducks beneath my follow-up attack, vibrating his body so my mana-arms whiff past him. He slams a fist against my chest, but a thick layer of mana thwarts the blow again. He phases once more through a stream of flames, absorbing the train-thick Needle Point surge and compressing it into a single strike.

The world around me slows as I enter a deeper [Focus]. Barrier after barrier forms ahead of his attack, shattering and reforming, steadily slowing and weakening it until it finally collides with my armor, vibrating through it, tearing into my heart a bit more.

He tries to phase again, but I deliberately reverberate the kinetic energy in a similar manner—not to mimic him, but to disrupt his phasing.

Whitey switches to Steelroot, and I halt the attack I was about to unleash, all that immense mana frozen mid-flow, and instead I grab his left hand.

Before he can attack or attempt another phase, I yank him closer, driving my knee into his chest and releasing a tremendous amount of kinetic energy he’s forced to absorb. A blast of mana follows it, sending Whitey flying; his torn arm remains in my grip.

I teleport to the anchor I placed on him and duck under his kick. He phases through my [Ley Line], and when he rushes me. I unleash a torrent of flames that makes the sea sizzle. Whitey punches, diverting the heat off to the side where it melts part of a nearby ship. He tries to land another blow, but I teleport again, reappearing behind him thanks to the same mark.

Before he can strike, I teleport once more.

Taking a short breather, I gather enough mana and teleport once more, deploying my [Mana Domain]. The sheer density of mana in the air nearly becomes tangible, making him hesitate. Even so, a Needle Point bores a hole into my side and another into my leg, these ones thicker than before.

I teleport again, and he pursues me, passing through the field left behind by [Empyrean Lance]. Inside it, his heart stutters, his movements slow, and I see surprise flicker in his eyes as the remaining effect disrupts his primordial energy.

He drops onto his ass to avoid my javelin. As my tricolored orb teleports there, glowing brilliantly, Whitey crawls out of the field on all three limbs. Right before the orb detonates, he curls into a ball. The explosion sends him flying, creating ripples across the rough sea where the debris of the carrier and droplets of water rain down.

Once again, the surface grows still, debris and water droplets suspended in midair, as Whitey breaks through to stand atop the water. Blood drips from his body, staining the surface red. He glances at his left arm—now nearly entirely gone. His left arm, his left eye, a chunk of his chest—broken and burned.

“It’s always the left arm?” He smirks, and the expression is anything but friendly. It’s dangerous, like a predator’s grin.

"Tradition demands it," I say, surging mana through my body.

I feel a grin creep onto my face, not too different from Whitey’s, as I glance at the clear blue sky and take a deep breath. My heart is hammering so wildly, and it isn’t just the kinetic energy. The tips of my fingers tingle, and my own mana threatens to tear me apart at the slightest misstep.

“I apologize for underestimating you. You’re one tough motherfucking demon,” I admit.

I’d thought I would beat him easily, even without using black mana. But this version of Whitey is nothing like the lurker. It’s not even close. Just a slight percentage difference between a mindless beast fighting on instinct and a living being who fights with purpose makes a huge difference. And beyond that... the damn demon has gotten better. He didn’t show me exactly how, but he spent over six months in my mind, in this mind space, training every moment he wasn’t sparring with me or teaching.

I turn my gaze on him, compressing a wisp of mana with [Focus]. A small black orb forms in front of me and shoots toward my crown, which turns pitch-black in an instant. The gathered reserves condense, forming something exceedingly potent.

That whirlpool surrounds me, trying to pull in any ambient mana, but there isn’t much. Whitey’s mana is nearly gone too, most of it already converted into kinetic energy stored in his body.

Of course, that wasn’t my goal. I seize the crown, forcing it under my command to power my skills and fortify my body.

“Fucking humans, always cheating,” Whitey says with a grin, unbuttoning his camouflage jacket one-handed. He shrugs it off and tosses it into the air, where it remains frozen like everything else. Standing there in a bloodied pale-green shirt and camo pants, even the droplets of his blood no longer fall.

“I didn’t realize demons were such complaining crybabies,” I reply with a smile, fueling my mana more and more, preparing.

Whitey’s heartbeat alters again, adopting a rhythm I’ve never sensed before. Something entirely new. The vibrations it creates around his body send a cold sweat down my back and raise goosebumps on my arms.

Once again, I can’t help feeling a deep admiration for him—the sheer control he has over his body and his heartbeat, especially given the condition of his body for his entire life.

If his circumstances had been different, Whitey might very well be an Absolute candidate.

No more words are exchanged as black mana floods my body, completely replacing my normal mana. Whitey extends a domain I’ve never seen him use before, colliding with my [Mana Domain], demolishing it, and halting only when it strikes [Eclipse].

Both of us attack once more.

***

I open my eyes, finding myself back on the stairway outside the tower. Even here, I feel the urge to move, to fight, and I have to take my time to gradually calm myself down.

Draw.

Standing up and climbing the stairs, I think of that word, replaying the fight in my mind, especially the ending. I do so while examining my own feelings.

Frustration. Satisfaction.

I ascend a few steps.

Annoyance. Amusement.

A few more steps.

Thankfulness. Admiration. More frustration.

I reach the inside of the tower, where Kyralon already waits on the loggia, sitting in a chair.

After taking a seat opposite him, I say, “I want to ask a question now, and I’ll answer your future question to pay for it, then a hundred more to earn another question.”

“Please do so,” Kyralon gestures.

“There’s a presence in my mind. Someone who got there after a challenge I made and who I want to set into a new body or something similar.”

“Tell me more.”

I explain in detail, providing as much information as possible so he can give a well-informed answer.

After a moment of contemplation, Kyralon shakes his head. “The wording of your challenge will not allow it, nor will the system. Across the long history of the tutorial, there have been cases like this—Absolutes going rogue, treacherous challenges, and the Rulers twisting the rules in unexpected ways. Yet never, not once, has a native of the tutorial escaped. At times, the system was slow to act or it waited until attendees began their return to their homeworlds. But in the end, no native has ever broken free.”

I study his manner, looking for any hint of deception.

There is none.

"The presence in your mind—those memories will almost certainly vanish the moment his lurker regenerates on the first Beyond floor. That is what I would expect from the system for a challenge like this, one that should never have been approved. Even if he takes over your body or finds a new one, he will not be able to leave. At most, he will kill you in revenge before the system erases him. That, perhaps, is what Envy is counting on. And it makes no difference if you try to store these memories in an item or anything else—the outcome remains the same."

“I see.”

Kyralon observes me for a moment. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I expected something like that.”

“Have I answered your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then, allow me to continue with the questions that you owe me.”

***

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