CHAPTER 17: OH COME ON... WHY HIM, OF ALL PEOPLE?

«And here we are, at last, with the fight you’ve all been waiting for!»

The announcer’s voice echoes through the arena.

«The Predestined Familiar of Princess Ayra Volkom—Lyon Volkom! Current ranking: 1514th place!»

The crowd erupts into a deafening roar as I step onto the battlefield.

They welcome me not just as another challenger, but almost as their champion—or rather, their favorite gladiator.

Judging from the announcer’s words, they’re eager—almost desperate—to see me fight.

I just hope I don’t let them down.

Or let Ayra down.

Because I really don’t want to find out what would happen if I did.

«And his opponent... Aron Dulcar! Current ranked 1291st !»

A chill runs down my spine as Aron enters the arena.

His glare burns with hatred, fists clenched tight, each step heavier than the last.

Damn it... Of all the opponents I could’ve faced, it had to be him?!

Not that I’m scared of his strength—he’s only ranked 1291st—but still, he holds a lot of sway over the other familiars in the Lunae Novae dorm.

That means he’s been here for a long time, and I expected him to be ranked much higher.

Even so... the rage in his eyes makes me uneasy.

«You know, Lyon...» Aron’s voice is cold, dripping with hate. «I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. Fighting inside the dorms is strictly forbidden, but here...» A twisted grin spreads across his face. «...here I can finally unleash all the anger, all the resentment that I—no, that we all—carry toward you, the vampires’ idol!»

«The vampires’ idol...» I repeat, annoyed. «Aren’t you tired of spouting the same crap?!»

«Crap, huh?» Aron sneers. «Hearing the crowd cheer for you only proves me right. Honestly, I’m shocked they still let you live among trash like us instead of giving you a room in the Volkom royal palace.»

«I’ve had enough of you!» I snarl, teeth grinding in frustration. «I’ll shut that filthy mouth of yours once and for all!»

«Let the battle begin!»

The announcer’s voice rings out, marking the official start of the match.

«Blood Word Lv.1: Weapon!»

A long violet sword materializes in my hand, faster than ever thanks to those sleepless nights training with Ayra.

The glowing aura of the Visanguis coils around me, drawing another wave of awe and excitement from the crowd.

«You even use their magic...» Aron snarls, disgust burning in his eyes. «And you still dare to call yourself one of us?! You make me sick!»

Blue Vis energy bursts from his body.

It’s nothing like Angelica’s refinement, but far more focused and stable than Gerard’s.

Like a bullet, he shoots straight at me, fist aimed at my face.

I tilt my blade, his knuckles slamming against the flat of the sword.

The impact shoves me back a few centimeters, but no more.

I hold my ground.

Ayra’s strikes—the ones I endured all night long—were way stronger, even when she used just a fraction of her power.

Angelica shattered my sword with a single kick.

Their speed, their reflexes... they’re on a completely different level from Aron.

He pulls back his right fist, ready to strike again, but before he can, I swing the blade in a wide arc.

Ayra would call this a Priscilla-proof attack—so clumsy and predictable that even her despised little sister could see it coming and block it.

And yet, it lands.

A deep cut slashes across his chest from shoulder to shoulder, forcing him to stagger back, leaving behind a trail of blood and agonized screams.

Aron’s face twists in fury and pain as blood pours from the wound, running down his torso and dripping onto the arena floor.

One strike.

Just one, and he’s already in this state.

I’m not surprised; my sword isn’t just a weapon—it’s a magical blade forged from Sanguis energy.

According to Ayra, the weapons born from the Blood Word Weapon are predators that thirst for blood, especially when it’s human.

Any wound they cause leads to severe, uncontrollable bleeding, destroying all platelets in the injured area.

In short, it completely shuts down blood clotting.

Even a scratch could become fatal if the fight drags on.

And this is only Blood Word Lv.1! I can’t even imagine how strong the higher levels must be.

«Y-You bastard...» Aron grits his teeth, his voice trembling. «BASTARD!»

A surge of renewed vigor ignites his Vis energy, flaring even more intensely.

He bends his knees slightly before launching at me with surprising speed, despite the wound that won’t stop bleeding.

Once again, I use the flat of my blade to block his strike, but this time the force behind his punch is far greater than before.

Cracks split across my sword where the impact lands.

My body is hurled backward with violent force, yet somehow I manage to stay on my feet.

«Lyon, what the hell are you doing?!» Ayra’s alarmed voice bursts in my ear through the usual earpiece—a glowing sphere. «He’s just a low-rank familiar! Why haven’t you finished him already?!»

«He’s still ranked above me, with way more experience! I’m not fighting some damn training dummy!» I snap back, frustrated.

I don’t even finish the sentence before...

—CRACK!

My sword snaps right where it was struck earlier.

The upper half of the blade drops to the ground in front of my wide, disbelieving eyes.

Oh, shit...