Martial Arts Vs Magic - Chapter 140

Chapter 140: When Titans Clash

The moment the announcer's hand fell, reality bent.

Our blades met with a sound like the world breaking. The shockwave rippled outward and shattered the arena floor in a spiderweb of cracks that raced toward the walls. Where Aurelius's Lunafang cut through the air, trails of silver light lingered like scars on reality. Where my Kurayami struck, darkness bloomed and died, leaving afterimages that hurt to look at directly.

"Interesting choice of weapon," Aurelius said conversationally as if we weren't trying to kill each other. His blade flowed through forms I'd only seen in ancient texts, the movements like a poem written in steel and moonlight. "Most would call it cursed."

"Most would be right." I twisted away from a thrust that would have punctured my heart, Kurayami singing its hunger as it deflected the strike. "But I've never been accused of making safe choices."

His laugh was light even as he pressed his advantage. Where I fought with instinct and adaptation, reading his patterns and evolving mid-strike, Aurelius moved with the weight of centuries behind every cut. His swordsmanship wasn't just perfect, it was art refined to its purest form.

Steel rang against steel in a symphony of violence. I ducked under a horizontal slash that left silver afterimages in my vision, countered with an upward strike that he deflected with casual grace. His riposte opened a line of fire across my ribs, but I was already moving, already healing, the Heavenly Demon Body knitting flesh as fast as he could part it.

"You're durable," he observed, quicksilver eyes tracking the way my wounds closed. "Like fighting a particularly stubborn piece of leather."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." I pressed forward, Kurayami weaving patterns of darkness that clashed against his silver light. "Though I appreciate the effort."

We separated, circling each other like predators. The crowd's roar had faded to white noise, irrelevant compared to the dance we performed. In the periphery of my vision, I caught the Valtherians on their feet, Moui's massive fists clenched as he watched. Higher up, in the Royal Gallery, I felt the weight of ancient eyes measuring every movement.

Then Aurelius did something unexpected. His sword vanished into a pocket dimension, and he shifted into a martial stance I recognized from treatises on Silver Dragon combat forms that I’d been researching for weeks.

"Blades are all well and good," he said, rolling his shoulders. "However I find there's something satisfying about more direct methods. Besides, it would be a pity to damage our fine swords for this, no?"

I couldn't help but grin, dismissing Kurayami back to my Soul Storage. "Now you're speaking my language."

The shift in combat style was fast and brutal. Where our swordplay had been a conversation, this was a shouting match.

[True Demon Fist Art, First Form: Burning Barrage of the Bull of Heaven]

My fists ignited with crimson force as I closed the distance, my strikes carrying the weight of mountains. Aurelius's eyes widened fractionally, the only warning before he flowed around my assault like water around stone.

"That’s a Demon Arts?" he murmured, and there was something like approval in his voice. "How gorgeously heretical."

His counter came in the form of silver light coalescing around his hands. It must be the Silver Dragons’ [Lunar Step], which wasn’t that different from my Void Step. One moment he stood before me, the next he materialized behind, his palm strike aimed at my spine. I twisted, catching his wrist, but he was already moving, already adapting.

He didn’t need to shout his technique names at 8th Ascension, so I was left with guessing. The next one was [Constellation Strike], where his free hand moved in patterns that defied geometry, striking from angles that shouldn't exist. One fist became three, and three became seven, each hitting simultaneously from different directions. I weathered the assault, letting my body absorb the damage even as I shifted techniques.

[True Demon Fist Art, Second Form: Smoldering Strikes of the Serpent King]

Dark flames wreathed my hands as I retaliated, every strike leaving trails of burning air. Where the Bull charged with raw power, the Serpent coiled and struck with precision. Aurelius matched me move for move, his [Silver Coil] technique manifesting as liquid metal that tried to bind my limbs even as we exchanged blows.

"You're holding back," he accused, breaking free from a grapple that would have shattered lesser bones. "I'm insulted."

"Oh, trust me, I’m not holding back." I ducked under a kick that would have taken my head off, and countered with an uppercut that he deflected with his forearm. "But yes, if possible, I don’t want to use my strongest techniques."

"Arrogant pup." But he was smiling as he said it.

The tempo increased. [True Demon Fist Art, Third Form: Relentless Thunder of the Titan Ape] met his enhanced speed, my strikes becoming hammerfalls that cracked the air itself. The impacts sent shockwaves through the arena, and I heard stone crumbling somewhere behind us.

Then I reached for my Class abilities, and the game changed again.

[Mythrend] activated as I struck, the skill designed to shatter the essence of legendary beings. Aurelius himself was no ‘Myth,’ but Silver Dragons as a whole kind of could be considered that. It wouldn’t be as effective as against someone like Sazrazzakhan, for example, but it did its job. Aurelius's eyes went wide as the attack bypassed his physical defenses, striking at something deeper. He staggered, just for a moment, before his lips moved in that strange cadence of Dragon Tongue Magic.

"Resilience."

The word hit reality like a gong, and suddenly his form solidified, becoming denser, more real. My next strike, empowered with [Astral Rend], met resistance that hadn't been there before.

"Swiftness."

Now he moved like quicksilver given purpose, matching and exceeding my speed. We became blurs to the watching crowd, our exchanges too fast for normal eyes to follow.

"Clarity."

Whatever illusions or misdirection I might have employed shattered like glass. His gaze pierced through everything, seeing truth where others saw only motion.

"Cheating with words of power?" I complained, barely dodging a palm strike that left frost in its wake.

"Says the man using forbidden demon techniques." His counter was almost lazy, but it forced me back regardless. "Besides, all's fair in love and war. Isn't that why we're here?"

I laughed.

He had a point.

Time to reveal all my cards.

“Photon Ring,” I muttered, and the Ring erupted around me in its full glory. Not the fragmented version I'd shown before but a complete halo of stellar fire that made the crowd gasp. Light and heat radiated from the perfect circle on my back, and suddenly gravity was a suggestion rather than a law.

"There it is," Aurelius breathed, and his expression shifted to something almost hungry. "The technique from Merasca. They say you turned the sky into a second sun."

"Greatly exaggerated." I rose into the air, the ring spinning lazily around my form. "It was barely a large candle."

His transformation in response was breathtaking. Silver scales erupted across his skin as he entered his Hybrid Form, wings of liquid moonlight spreading from his back. His eyes became pools of mercury, and power radiated from him in waves that made the air shimmer.

"Shall we dance properly then?"

We collided in midair with the force of meteors meeting. The sonic boom shattered every window in the upper galleries, raining crystal down like deadly snow. My fist met his claw, stellar fire clashing against lunar frost, and for a moment we hung suspended, power matched against power.

Then he was moving, faster than before, faster than anything human-shaped had a right to move. His hybrid form wasn't just for show—every aspect enhanced beyond mortal limits. Claws raked across my chest, leaving furrows that wept crimson before sealing. His tail, which I hadn't even seen manifest, whipped around to catch me in the ribs, sending me spinning through the air.

I caught myself, the Photon Ring flaring brighter as I poured more power into it. We met again, and again, our battle painting the sky with light and darkness. Every clash sent ripples through the air, and below us, I could see the crowd alternating between cheers and ducking for cover.

"You're good," Aurelius admitted, pausing in his assault to hover twenty feet away. "Better than good. But this is a numbers game, boy. I'm stronger, faster, and I've been doing this since before your grandfather was born."

"All true." I wiped blood from my mouth, grinning. "But you're forgetting something."

"What's that?"

"You’re older than my Grandfather, but he can still wash the floor with you. What makes me any different? I'm too stupid to know when I'm beaten."

I reached deep, calling on the technique I'd gained from defeating Xohr'Veskhaa. Power gathered around me, reality bending under the weight of what I was about to unleash.

[True Demon God Art: Oblivion of the Heaven-Searing Star]

The air ignited. No, that wasn't right—ignition implied there was air left to burn. What gathered above the tip of my finger was the death of stars condensed into a singular moment of annihilation. The crowd's cheers turned to screams as killing heat washed over the arena, and I saw several mages frantically erecting barriers to protect the spectators.

Aurelius's eyes went wide, and for the first time in our fight, I saw genuine concern. His hybrid form rippled, expanding, and suddenly a full dragon hung in the air before me. A hundred feet of silver scales and barely contained power, his maw opening to reveal teeth like swords.

"If you insist on escalation," his voice rumbled like an avalanche, "then let's see how your demon fire fares against true dragon breath!"

Silver light gathered in his throat, not the gentle moonlight of before but like the cold radiance of distant stars. When he exhaled, it was like watching the heat death of the universe given form—a beam of absolute silver that met my dying star head-on.

The collision was visible from miles away. Where our attacks met, reality simply gave up, creating a sphere of nothingness that expanded outward before collapsing in on itself. The shockwave that followed flattened what remained of the arena floor, and only the emergency barriers kept the crowd from being swept away entirely.

Through the chaos, I saw my opening.

Aurelius had committed everything to matching my attack, assuming that raw power would carry the day. He was right, mostly. His dragon breath was slowly overwhelming my technique, pushing back the stellar fire inch by inch.

But he'd forgotten that I wasn't just a mage throwing power around. I was a fighter who happened to know techniques that looked like magic.

I cut the technique abruptly, letting his breath surge forward unchecked. His eyes widened in triumph, then confusion as I simply wasn't there anymore. [Void Step] carried me through the space between spaces, depositing me directly above his draconic form.

His reaction was instant, claws sweeping up to catch me, but I was already moving. The problem with being a hundred feet long was that it made you a hundred-foot target.

I landed on his back, between wings the size of ship sails, and did the one thing he didn't expect.

I punched him. Hard.

[True Demon Fist Art, Fifth Form: The Shattering Descent of the Infernal Behemoth]

The impact rippled through his scales, and he roared more in surprise than pain. His tail whipped around, faster than something that size should move, and this time I couldn't dodge entirely. The blow caught my left arm, and I felt bones shatter like kindling.

No matter. The Heavenly Demon Body was already working, already knitting—

His claw came from nowhere, enhanced with [Lunar Edge], and my right arm simply ceased to exist below the elbow. Blood painted the air crimson, and pain shot through me like lightning.

"Yield," Aurelius rumbled, shifting back to his hybrid form as I fell. He caught me before I hit the ground, his expression genuinely regretful. "You fought well, better than well, but this is over. You've lost both arms. Even your regeneration has limits."

I looked down at the stumps where my arms used to be, blood pooling on the shattered stone beneath us. The crowd had gone silent, the only sound the drip of crimson on crystal.

Then I laughed.

It started as a chuckle, building to something that made Aurelius step back. "What's so funny?"

"You," I managed between bloody grins. "Thinking this is over."

"Iskandaar, be reasonable. You've lost. There's no shame in—"

"Nah."

[Flesh Explosion]

The blood from both severed arms detonated into crimson mist, thick and cloying. Aurelius tried to dodge, but there was nowhere to go—the mist was already everywhere, already seeping into his scales, his skin, his very essence.

[True Demon God Art: Curse of Defying Heaven]

His scream was more shock than pain as the curse took hold. His connection to dragon magic flickered like a candle in a hurricane. His hybrid form wavered, scales receding, wings faltering, as if he was being corrupted in real-time. After all, Dragon Tongue Magic was a True Dragon Bloodline thing. What if that blood was corrupted with demonic blood? He dropped to one knee, mercury eyes wide with disbelief.

"What did you—"

The answer came in the form of my arms regrowing in an instant. Not the slow regeneration he'd seen before, but immediate restoration. Black veins pulsed along the new flesh before fading, and demonic markings writhed like living tattoos before vanishing beneath unblemished skin.

Kurayami materialized in my restored hand, its point finding his throat with delicate precision. Aurelius couldn’t move in that state, paralyzed by my technique for a few seconds. In fights like this, a few seconds was a lot of time.

"I win," I said simply, the tip of my blade drawing blood from his throat.

He stared at me for a long moment, then sighed. "You absolute madman. You let me cut off your arms on purpose."

"Best way to get you to lower your guard." I helped him to his feet, noting how he swayed slightly. "The curse is temporary. You'll have your full power back in half a minute."

"Half a minute that I don't have. I’d have died already if this was a real battle," he raised his voice, addressing the stunned arena. "I yield!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Then, cheers thundered through the stadium. Names were shouted. Hands were raised. A wave of sound and celebration rolled across the arena, washing away the tension of battle. The Valtherians roared like lions for me.

I stood there, breathing hard, arms aching with phantom pain, but I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “Haha…”

I’d done it.

I'd beaten Aurelius. I'd proved my strength before the entire world. For a moment, just one fleeting heartbeat, I allowed myself to believe that this was enough. That this was victory. Yes!!

And then someone started clapping.

It wasn’t from the crowd, no.

It was a slow, mocking applause that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

"Bravo," the child-like voice carried impossible weight as he floated down from the Royal Gallery. "Truly entertaining. The demon boy who thinks he can claim my daughter's hand just because this silver fool agreed to his terms."

My blood ran cold when I looked up. This wasn't part of the plan.

[Sahrazzakhan, the Arcane Gold Dragon, Level 300]

The Gold Dragon King descended like a falling star, his child form somehow more terrifying than any dragon shape could be. Those golden slit eyes held amusement the way a cat might find a mouse amusing right before it pounced.

"But tell me, boy," he continued, standing in the air with grace that defied physics, "who decided you could have my daughter just because you beat her fiancé? The agreement is between myself and his father. If you truly want her hand..."

He waved dismissively, and Aurelius went flying, caught by healers at the arena's edge.

"You'd have to challenge me instead."

The temperature dropped twenty degrees. No, that wasn't right, the very concept of warmth fled before the Arcane King's presence. The damned Arcane Crown gleamed against the sunlight. I stood alone in the center of the ruined arena, Kurayami still in my hand but feeling suddenly inadequate.

"Your Majesty," I began, but he cut me off with a laugh that made my teeth ache.

"Majesty? How formal. Tell me, imbecile, did you think this through? Did you imagine I'd simply hand over my daughter because you can regenerate limbs and throw around demon fire?" His child face twisted into something cruel. "You're nothing but an upstart with delusions of adequacy."

The insults washed over me, but I kept my eyes on his hands. When dealing with beings of this caliber, words were just distraction. The real threat would come—

He opened his mouth, and I saw death.

Gold Dragon's Breath. Not the refined technique Amelia had displayed, but raw, primal annihilation given form. The air itself began to burn before the attack even manifested.

Shit.

I tried to [Void Step] away, but his willpower slammed down like a mountain, locking space itself. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Just me and the approaching wave of golden death.

This is how I die, I thought with surprising calm. Turned to atoms by an angry father. Could be worse. There was nothing I could do. It was an odd feeling, but I suppose it made sense when facing someone wearing one of the seven Arcane Crowns.

"ISKANDAAR!" Amelia's voice mixed with Solara's, but it was already too late. The breath attack filled my vision, beautiful and terrible and final.

Oh, it was over.

I closed my eyes and sighed.

Then, a mountain fell from the sky.

No, not a mountain. A man who moved like one, red hair streaming behind him like a war banner. He landed between me and certain death, his fist already drawn back, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of nations.

"[Fist of a Titan]."

The punch met dragon breath with the sound of gods going to war. But where my fist technique had struggled against the Bronze Dragon’s breath, where even Aurelius might have been overwhelmed, this simply... won. The golden annihilation that would have erased me from existence shattered like glass before that fist, dispersing into harmless light that painted the arena in brief aurora.

Destruction Affinity. That punch was full of that.

[Sikandar Romani, the Titan of Destruction, Level 250]

My… my grandfather stood before me, the coat hanging from his shoulders like a cape billowed in the wind of dispersed power, and his grin was sharp enough to cut steel. Silence filled the realm for a few seconds as the light from the breath vanished.

"What is the meaning of this, Sikandar?" Sahrazzakhan's voice had lost its mocking edge, his hands locked behind his back.

"What's the meaning of you attacking my grandson?" Sikandar crossed arms that could have been carved from bedrock. "Rather rude, don't you think?"

"I thought you wanted him dead anyway. The Erebian Emperor's request?"

"He asked me to capture the boy and bring him in. Not kill him." My grandfather's voice hardened. "Besides, the reason he sent me instead of some other buffoon is because even if I had to kill him, he'd die by my hand. Not an outsider's. What gave you the audacity to attempt killing my grandson right in front of me?"

The child-king's expression darkened. "You dare use say such—"

"I dare quite a lot, actually." Sikandar's grin widened. "Always have. It's something of a character flaw."

"You have to be the most foolish human to have ever lived, given your choice of words." Sahrazzakhan's form rippled, expanding. His voice deepened. "You're going to regret this."

The transformation was instant and terrifying. Where a child had stood, now loomed a dragon that defied comprehension. A thousand feet of golden scale and barely leashed power, each breath creating small hurricanes, eyes like molten suns glaring down at the man who dared defy him.

"Who do you think you are, Gold Dragon," and yet Sikandar’s words were steel as he threw his coat aside, his voice carrying clearly despite the size difference, "to make me regret anything?"

He kicked off the ground with enough force to crater it, rocketing toward the massive dragon's head at a breakneck speed. Sahrazzakhan's maw opened, another breath attack building, but Sikandar was already there, his fist connecting with the dragon's jaw with a sound like continents colliding.

The dragon's mouth slammed shut, the breath attack detonating inside and making him roar in pain and fury. But more than pain, there was shock. A human had just punched him. Successfully.

All around me, people ran, fleeing the arena in fear of certain death. Only I stood frozen, looking up at my grandfather fighting an Arcane King like it was a tavern brawl scaled up to cosmic proportions. Around me, people fled in terror, but I couldn't move, couldn't look away from the impossible spectacle above.

This was the Titan of Erebia.

This was the man who'd stopped wars between Arcane Kings. 

This was my grandfather.

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