✽✽✽✽✽
The fact was, Nergal didn’t think the boy stood any chance against him.
When he was serious about moving, he could move faster than the human eye. He could just run around within the boundary for ten minutes and he would win. The boy seemed to be anticipating some kind of loophole in the rules, but he didn’t need to resort to such pettiness; his own physical capabilities would hand him the win easily.
At his core, Nergal was a god who enjoyed playing with humans. If he’d just wanted to keep Natsuki with him, he could have just killed them all. The reason he’d gone out of his way to talk to them, and even to offer up the game, was simply to toy with them.
It was a fun way to kill time, watching a silly human try desperately to concoct a plan, and then eventually, die in despair.
No matter how gentle and reasonable he may seem, after all, Nergal was still an evil god’s avatar. Evil was in his nature. He was naturally inclined towards seeking out displays of great hopelessness.
He had never had any intention of releasing Natsuki, either. He had made that very generous promise only because he knew he’d have no need to fulfill it.
The boy was walking towards him now.
Nergal found him rather precious; the way he was trying to smother his anger just brought a smile to his face.
Nergal had no martial arts training — he needed none, with speed and strength like his — but even he could tell that the boy’s carriage was that of a master. His center of balance was rock solid, and he carried himself with great stability. He had almost no openings, likely believing he could react to an attack from any angle.
No matter how excellent his techniques, though, there were limits to human reaction times. He would be helpless in the face of speed that exceeded that. Nergal could move faster than the speed of sound, and think and perceive things at the same speed. No human could ever hope to challenge him, no matter how well-trained they may be.
That was why his claim that he wouldn’t use his hands wasn’t actually a handicap. He could still hit the boy with the lightest of kicks, and deal crushing damage with that alone.
However, he had no intention of ending things that quickly. He had no intention of attacking, or even of running around. Nergal would stand right where he was and dodge until the time limit ran out.
The boy had walked up to Nergal, and now stood before him. His posture was a natural one, his hands hanging at his sides.
Nergal watched him expectantly, interested in how he might begin.
His vision went white.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure what had happened.
He was looking at the dome’s ceiling, which, he realized a moment later, meant that his face was turned upwards.
He looked forward again, quickly, and saw that the boy was standing there, an arm raised in front of his face. His fingers were outstretched, the back of his hand visible, the elbow slightly bent.
Something slick touched Nergal’s lip. As it dripped onto the floor, he realized it was blood, and then he realized he was in pain.
There was an ache in the center of his face. He was bleeding, slowly, from his nostrils.
What did he do to me? Nergal thought, stunned.
The boy’s posture suggested he had just finished an attack.
“I touched you, so I win, right?” the boy said dryly.