Since he couldn’t let up for a single moment, the attack should have been lethal. Zig’s ability to smell magic allowed him to dodge the attack, but he couldn’t nullify the opening it created.
The crozier exploited this and met with the twinblade, one weapon entwined with the other. The crozier wound around the twinblade, scooped it up, and tossed it upward.
However, two weapons flew through the air. Zig made the quick decision to let go of his weapon and kicked the crozier up with his right foot. He brought his foot down again and stepped inside.
Both combatants were unarmed now. There was no stopping either of them. Neither paid any attention to their weapons as they moved. Because they attacked simultaneously, their attacks landed at the same time.
Yaesar’s left leg slithered like a snake. Zig’s left leg swung like a battering ram. Both aimed at the other’s head.
A loud cracking sound tore through the church, and then impact. A kick from the left leg was blocked with the right arm. Though they had differing approaches, both attacks landed at the same time with the same results. Yaesar’s sharp kick would have snapped Zig’s neck if it had landed instead of only sneaking slightly through his defense. Meanwhile, Zig’s heavy kick would have shattered Yaesar’s neck as it blew through his guard.
“Gaah!”
They both shook their heads and delivered a front kick, making some distance between them before they could fully recover from the near concussion.
Their weapons dropped before them. Without looking at each other, they grabbed them and slowly got back on their feet.
“Your technique is unrefined… But not bad.”
“You’re pretty strong yourself… For being malnourished.”
Despite the lighthearted exchange, both looked heavily beat up. They could tell from each other’s gaze that the next attack was going to be the last. No draws, no time extensions—the end would be decided here and now.
They both took deep breaths to prepare for what they were about to do next. Zig took a deep, slow breath, while Yaesar took a light, long one.
They readied themselves.
Zig leaned forward, assuming an offensive stance for maximum power. Yaesar lowered his center of gravity, focusing on defense so he could launch his counterattack. The two opposing postures depicted the combatants’ different approaches.
“I will control your strength with my softness,” Yaesar declared, trusting his game plan.
“Then I’ll break your softness with my strength,” Zig countered.
These were the last words the two exchanged, but they were enough. Neither of them would stop until one of them was dead. No negotiations or compromise. Just a battle where a victor and loser would emerge.
The silence lasted for what felt like an eternity. Zig was the one who broke it.
A crackle of fire—such was the force of Zig’s step. His footfalls exploded across the floor, making it seem like the church itself was shaking.
Zig flexed, releasing the pent-up energy he had stored like a spring. It took time for his giant body to reach top speed, but it rivaled that of Isana’s lightning-clad enhancement.
Yaesar’s eyes widened. He was two meters away now. A giant red arc was approaching him with ridiculous speed. Yaesar focused, trying to see everything in slow motion. His mind was going so fast that he could count every pebble and dust particle Zig had kicked up. It took forever just to breathe out.
“Haaah—!”
His polished, lethal sight and his counterattacks—the strengths he had gathered over his years of experience—would be tested in this single moment.
Zig swung his twinblade in the time it took to blink. His feet landed on the flooring so hard it felt like the earth would break. He did the motion over and over again without hesitation, adding the momentum from his charge to his slash.
No fancy techniques, just a raw culmination of what he had learned over the years.
Being faster. Stronger. Straightforward goals pursued through dogged persistence. Counterattacks were the height of gentle strength—the ability to receive violence, convert it, and turn it against its owner. It was a highly effective combat method against much more powerful demi-humans. It was what made him a remitter.
Yaesar made cold decisions with fiery emotion. His opponent’s speed and power were out of the ordinary. Focusing on his weapon wouldn’t give him enough time. He had to read his whole body. Even with his accelerated mind, he still found it difficult to calculate the speed of Zig’s blade. However, he was overjoyed that he was fighting his most powerful opponent so far and wanted to rise to the occasion.
He shifted his body in an arc, his crozier following suit. He could do nothing to stop the blade coming down on his head; stepping into the attack might lead to his death.
All Yaesar needed to do was shift the trajectory of the twinblade. With that understanding, he rushed forward.
Crozier and twinblade finally clashed. He had correctly calculated its trajectory, the timing perfect. And yet…he failed to change the twinblade’s trajectory.
“Huh?!”
The crozier lowered as the blade increased in speed at the last moment to overpower it, making a straight line with the intent to cut its target in half. The dark red blade ran through Yaesar’s left shoulder, eating through the protective spell and all the flesh and bone underneath.
Yaesar reacted with his own attack, albeit a little late. He forcefully thrust his lowered crozier in an attempt to gouge Zig’s stomach. Blood sprang like a fountain, then flowed in a steady stream. If Yaesar pressed on, Zig would die.
“Urgh—”
Their eyes met, a momentary glance at each other. They exchanged savage smiles like they were longtime friends.
Press on and die? No. Press on and he would kill the other man.
Neither man stopped. Their weapons dug into each other’s flesh, neither of them relenting to the other.
And so, the curtains drew to a close in the battle to the death between two men, leaving only one survivor. The winner turned his back on the defeated, adding another to his body count. There was no glory or joy in the victory. He just carried his weapon and walked away.
A woman came to greet the victor—bewitching with her black hair and terrifying power. His client.
“Got him,” he reported.
He spat out blood as more gushed from his body. He had narrowly avoided death and would join those he defeated in the grave soon without treatment.
And yet Zig won, so he maintained his composure.
“Yes. I knew you would.” The witch, Siasha, caressed his bloodied face and smiled gently at him, not minding the mess it would leave on her hand.
Now his body—that was the real mess. The crozier was left in his stomach; removing it carelessly would cause him to bleed out. Several ribs were clearly cracked. The other injuries he picked up along the way were not to be taken lightly. He probably would’ve died if Siasha hadn’t been there to heal him.
Removing the crozier buried in his stomach was the most difficult part. Siasha had been ready with her healing magic, so they managed to pull it out in one go and wrap it in a clean cloth. Zig still felt like he was about to pass out as she stopped the bleeding. The procedure ended as soon as they stemmed the blood flow.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
Zig waved his hand, telling her not to worry about him. His insides were still far from perfect, but he probably didn’t have enough stamina to withstand her treatment. More healing magic would leave him immobile because of the intense battle he just had. It couldn’t be helped, really. He slapped his sagging feet to wake them up and stood.