CHAPTER 119: STAR STRIKE

Kyone bit her lip as she watched Azel fight.

"Reversal..."

That second form.

That damned second form.

It was the most infuriating technique she had ever witnessed in her life.

It wasn’t just troublesome — it was an insult to the natural order.

A technique that mirrored your own strike back at you, as if the sword itself mocked you, saying: whatever you can do, I can undo.

She winced.

Memories intruded, every slash she once threw, every frost imbued strike, all bouncing back at her with the same speed, the same precision, the same smug grin on his face.

By that damn guy that called himself the Hero.

’I really hate that guy...’ she thought bitterly, her jaw tightening.

If he wasn’t already erased from existence, she would have stomped his face in herself.

...

Azel exhaled slowly, drawing the air deep into his lungs, steadying the rise and fall of his chest.

Fighting against someone stronger than you had that sort of effect on you

Dante had been relentless so far — wild, hateful, and loud but still within what Azel could manage.

For now at least, Azel was sure that Dante hadn’t been going all out.

’So far, he’s throwing things I can handle,’ Azel thought, raising his blade into Kyone’s stance once more.

His grip was steady, but his instincts screamed.

Something about the silence that followed made his skin prickle.

His gut whispered that this next exchange would decide whether he walked away alive or left this room a corpse.

Across from him, Dante’s shoulders shook with rage.

His silver hair clung to his sweat-slick forehead, crimson eyes burning with malice that could melt glaciers.

"I hate you..." Dante hissed, voice ragged, venom dripping from every word. "That’s why I got rid of you years ago! Why did you have to come back?!"

The words cracked across the training hall like thunder.

Azel blinked.

’Eh??? That easy?’ He almost laughed. ’Man didn’t even hesitate to monologue. I thought he’d at least try the whole ’you don’t belong here’ routine, maybe gaslight a little. But nope — straight to self-snitching.’

He nearly laughed at the comedy of it all, maybe the villains needed to do better.

’He doesn’t even deserve to be called a side villain but apparently it makes my job easier though.’

He could kill him with ease now...

Then suddenly the world blurred red.

Azel’s pupils dilated — Dante’s bone blade was already at his face.

His reflexes saved him, tilting his head a fraction to the side, but the edge still bit into his cheek.

Flesh tore, blood sprayed warm across his skin.

The cut stung for a heartbeat before golden light flared from within, knitting his flesh back together.

The goddess’s blessing automatically healed his body.

He wiped at the blood and let out a low whistle. "Close one."

The floor cracked under Dante’s weight as he lunged again, a blur of silver and red.

Azel leapt back, boots skidding across polished wood.

The air screamed where the blade had been, slicing through space itself as cracks spread across the ground.

’This guy’s fast... too fast,’ Azel thought, eyes straining.

He could only catch Dante’s swords when they were already close enough to cut him and if he made a mistake at that moment, He could have well been caught in his eyes.

The rest of his movements were streaks of afterimage.

The sound of bone meeting bone rang out again and again as Azel barely managed to deflect each strike, his arm trembling from the sheer weight behind Dante’s swings.

’This guy is really strong.’ Azel thought.

"Why don’t you just die already?!" Dante’s voice cracked with hysteria.

Each word was punctuated by another murderous blow.

"Die! Die! DIE! Let me become the Patriarch! If you weren’t here, everything would have been fine!"

His crimson aura roared around him, blades dripping malice like venom.

"The goddess was meant to choose me — not the likes of you!"

’Bro actually sounds like a rejected cartoon villain,’ Azel thought dryly as he twisted his blade to catch another strike. ’All that’s missing is him shouting ’You’ll pay for this!’’

And true to Azel’s thoughts, his next words were...

"You’ll pay for this!!!"

He couldn’t hold it anymore, he immediately burst into laughter, nearly losing his footing.

The exchange was brutal, neither man yielding an inch.

Their swords blurred, bones singing in the air, sparks flashing as the training hall shook with the force of their duel.

Then —

Something cold brushed Azel’s skin.

A flake of snow drifted lazily across his vision.

His instincts screamed, and he bent low just as Dante’s sword tore across the air where his face had been at an even faster speed.

More snow fell.

It was not natural snow but rather random but he could feel that urge, Battle State.

A miniature storm had begun to swirl inside the room, icy winds gathering around Dante.

Frost hissed as it spread across the floorboards, creeping outward in jagged lines.

’Ahh. So that’s why he’s been screaming his evil plan like an idiot,’ Azel realized, lips quirking. ’He was buying time. Entering Battle State, huh? Clever bastard. I’ll give him that.’

Dante’s aura surged like a floodgate bursting open, crimson aura wrapping around his swords.

His body blurred again, but faster, sharper, more brutal than before.

Azel’s hair whipped across his eyes as the pressure spiked, the storm’s winds slamming against him like invisible fists and if he wasn’t careful, he could lose his footing.

His body felt heavy, but at the same time — he grinned.

’Good. Let’s even it out.’

Golden warmth spread through his muscles as he activated his own Battle State.

His blood quickened, his limbs loosened, the air sharp around his senses.

Unlike Dante, though, his mind remained calm, razor-clear.

He made some distance between them and changed into Kyone’s stance — sword raised, center of gravity lowered, his entire frame aligned in perfect poise.

Kyone’s hispers brushed against him.

[Clear your head, Esteemed Husbad. One strike. Nothing else exists.]

Dante screamed, lunging forward like a bullet fired from a gun.

His twin blades carved arcs of red through the blizzard.

The floor shattered beneath his speed, each step detonating like thunder.

Azel didn’t move.

The storm howled, snow and shards of ice swirling around him.

He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, exhaling.

Then — he stepped forward.

The stance shifted, seamless, flowing into the motion Kyone had burned into his body.

His blade gleamed brighter than the frost storm, sharper than Dante’s hate.

"Star Strike," Azel whispered.

The world blinked white.