"Just who is this child?", King Edmund asked, watching Milo dash around the basilisk at incredible speeds on a blue screen.
A knight knelt down by his side, "I believe his name is Milo Van Belched my liege. He appears to be from a branch family of Baron Van Belched".
"Is this true?", the King turned from his chair and faced a long line of nobility, where Renny was anxiously shaking.
Renny dropped into a bow, "Yes my liege. He is my nephew and the child with him is my son".
The King focused back on the projection above him, "Astounding …", he mumbled beneath his breath.
"No way! How fast is he moving!?", Pavlor choked out a mouth full of sand, watching Milo in awe as he danced around the basilisk.
For Pavlor who was in a weakened state and had a low core level, right now Milo appeared as nothing more than a blur and his fist as a flurry of strikes.
Another concern began to plague Milo as his injuries began to worsen and a sudden strum vibrated from his core.
'I've been in this state for a minute already, I don't know how much longer I can hold out before my mana completely burns away'.
Whilst in this state that he called critical overload, Milo expanded his veins and allowed the blood circulating his body to become imbued with mana that continually pumped through, accelerating his blood flow and rapidly increasing his strength for a short period of time.
It allowed him to exude an absurd amount of strength and an unbelievable amount of mana at once, but the downside was that he was creating small explosions inside of his body. When the mana swelled to a certain level they exploded, taking those very same blood vessels with them. It wasn't visible thanks to the sunburn, but beneath Milo's skin a deep red hue had begun to form from internal bleeding.
At the current stage where he had been fighting the basilisk, Milo felt like he could take on whoever came his way …
'SO WHY THE FUCK HAVEN'T I LANDED A CLEAN HIT YET'.
Milo swung down, his claws clashing with the wings of the basilisk sending a thunderous echo throughout the desert.
'It's like I'm hitting steel …'.
He had suspected it when he first saw the basilisk, but its wings and colour weren't just for show. Not only did the white reflect the heat, but when spread the wings created a shadow just enough to mask the movements of the basilisks bottom legs.
'Perfectly adapted for its environment'.
"Ugh! Makes me sick", Milo said lunging forward again.
This wasn't the only problem Milo found himself contending with. The basilisks tail that was also coated in these steel-like feathers was strong enough to shatter his bones with a single swipe. After the first hit he received he quickly deduced that his ribs were definitely broken, an unappealing outcome considering his situation.
The basilisk slammed its tail onto the sand.
Milo covered his eyes as a cloud of dust kicked up.
'AGAIN!?'.
His mana raced to his eyes and ears as a slight ripple in the air in front of him allowed him to narrowly dodge a masked swipe from the basilisk tail. It was a common strategy that had nearly caught Milo off guard before. Using its tail the basilisk created a smoke screen thick enough to completely block Milo's vision, allowing it to freely attack without fear of being countered.
In other words, the basilisk possessed a high level of intelligence.
'Perfect just what I needed'.
Milo felt his core strum again as his body lurched forward, stumbling towards the basilisk.
'Not now for goodness sake'.
He condensed his mana on the soles of his feet and leapt backwards, dropping to one knee, he panted as sweat fell from his forehead.
"Ah shit …", he felt a shadow loom over him as the basilisk towered over him, "I'm fucked".
It was the correct assumption for him. If his ace in the hole that he planned to keep secret until the final wasn't enough to beat this creature, then nothing in his arsenal could even land a scratch on it. What made the defeat even more crushing for Milo was that despite his best efforts, the basilisk showed no signs of even being remotely intimidated by him.
It was a first for him. Normally a basilisk or a creature of similar stature would've cowered before him when he was the Azure Dragon, but now he was the one cowering.
Was this what it felt like? All of those people and monsters he massacred that pleaded for their lives either through words or actions, just for him to mercilessly cut them down. Was this it? This single moment where the realisation dawned on them that their foe was far superior and all they could do was beg and plead.
The shame and humiliation he felt, was this also what they felt? The disgust at his own lack of strength was revolting for Milo. He knew that he was tyrant who was unmoved by seeing and killing everything, but this, this was a first for him. The feeling of regret and powerlessness that plagued his mind.
A tear fell from his eye, but it wasn't a tear of sadness. It was a blood tear that continued to flow as his sclera transformed into a deep red and his pupils narrowed into a slit black taking on a similar shape to the basilisk.
A maniacal chuckle escaped Milo's lips as he whipped his head up, "AM I FUCK LOSING TO SOME OVERGROWN LIZARD!".
He pushed himself up, bouncing on the tips of his toes. The sounds of his bones cracking and joints popping reached Pavlor's ears.
"Let's go", Milo shuffled forward, "Round 2 …".
"Stop", a voice called out from behind Milo.
Milo didn't turn to look, "Don't stop me, it's been so long since I've felt this fired up, I feel like I could seriously kill this thing!".
"Really?", the voice questioned.
"Of course, who do you think you're talking to!", Milo shouted back, shuffling forward again.
"I should be asking you that", the voice called out, finally getting Milo to turn and face it.
Milo's face sank when he saw King Edmund standing in front of some kind of purple portal surrounded by knights, each of whom pointed spears and swords towards the basilisk.
King Edmund stepped forward, "Do you really believe you will be able to beat such a monster on such rickety legs? Child, your body sounds as if you are 100 years old".
As all of the adrenaline coursing through Milo's veins vanished, his body sagged to the floor trembling like an infant.
"W-What the hell …", he muttered, attempting to push himself to his feet but stumbling face first into the sand.
"Examine them", King Edmund commanded a woman tucked away behind the knights, she was dressed in white overalls and sporting a pair of thick black rimmed glasses.
First the woman rushed towards Pavlor's side, flipping him over with no regards to his injuries. She held out her hand over his back, a thick green light illuminated from her palm and stretched across Pavlor's entire body.
She stood up and turned to King Edmund, "Lacerations all over his body, fractured right wrist, left ankle and a broken nose … also some blunt trauma to the head with potential of concussion".
Milo stared at her in awe as she rushed to his side. It was the first time since arriving in this world he had met someone who's magic was specialised in supporting others. Marcos could be classed in that manner, but he wasn't solely for that purpose. This woman was incredible and someone Milo wanted to learn more about.
She flipped Milo over, the green light stretched over Milo's body enveloping him in a warmth that felt like a soft embrace. It was a strange sensation for him, it was like her mana particles were invading his own muscles, bones and skin.
She stood up, "Wow … broken ribs on both sides, a pierced lung and shattered bones in both of his legs. Both of his knees have been blown to bits and his right and left shoulders are on the verge of fracturing. His right and left wrists have also been fractured …".
All of the knights gasped in unison.
"I see", the King grinned, kneeling down next to Milo. "You must be one of those fighters … we call your kind instinctive fighters, do you know what that is?".
Milo thought for a moment before responding.
"I assume that it means someone who fights through instinct rather than logic. Meaning they rely solely on their physical conditions to get them through battles, rather than their intelligence and planning abilities".
The King grinned again, "Correct". He pointed towards Milo's core, "You see, even now your body is reacting and continues to pump the mana to keep you alive. With the severity of injuries you possess, you should be long dead … but you aren't".
Milo looked inwards and to his surprise, the King was right. Even without him being conscious of it his mana was evenly dispersing towards all of the injuries, preventing them from worsening and for some of the less severe injuries, slowly patching them up.
It wasn't a viable method for healing, considering that the current pace would take at least 4 years to fully heal the less serious wounds. But what it did do was give Milo a lifeline should he ever find himself with fatal injuries.
To Milo's surprise, the basilisk that was hyper aggressive remained completely still, as if it was stumped in its tracks by its own fear.
'Seriously …'.
The only two logical solutions Milo could conjure were, either someone here was so powerful that the basilisk knew it couldn't win, or it knew it was outnumbered to the point it wouldn't be able to leave uninjured and was biding its time.
Either way it only served to piss Milo off more.
"Well then …", the King huffed, lifting Milo into his arms and carrying him back towards the portal, "I suppose we should get back to the castle".
'Should a King really be doing this?'.
Milo thought watching Pavlor scamper behind with the help of a knight propping him up.
"Ah, hold on", Milo said, "Does this mean we passed?".
The King smiled, "Yes. 90% of the other children dropped out due to the intense heat and the others who passed that aspect burrowed wherever they could to avoid the basilisk. You and Pavlor were the only ones who truly understood what the challenge entailed".
'… I mean, I didn't. But who the hell am I to care, if I get a free pass I sure as hell am going to take it'.
But this still didn't change the fact Milo thought the King shouldn't be carrying him … mainly because it was awfully embarrassing considering his true age. Milo couldn't tell whether the King was kind or just plain stupid not to understand the ramifications this could have.
Mainly looking as if he was already starting to play favourites.
They stepped into the gate and Milo felt his mind physically shuffle, he leant over the King's arm and threw up onto the fresh white carpet they landed on.
He wiped his mouth, "Damn … that wasn't like last time".
The King looked down at the carpet and then back to Milo, "Not to worry young one, everyone is like this their first time passing through the gate. It takes quite a toll on the mind and with how dense the mana is, the core gets pushed beyond its limits as well".
"Is that your technique?", Milo asked.
"Yes", the King replied with no hesitation, "It's my emblem to be exact. Though I am ashamed to admit it my skills with ordinary elements are lacking, thankfully the world blessed me with this talent".
Milo's initial assumption about him turned out to be true. Edmund wasn't the king just for his bloodline, he also had the power to back it up. Milo's gaze drifted towards the soldiers following them, then to the nobility who bowed as they walked past.
'And it seems he has the loyalty of the subjects as well'.
It was the first time Milo had seen a human King with all of the necessary attributes to be a true leader. Edmund wasn't a tyrant nor a coward, he was the epitome of what a King should be. The revelation only served to make Milo's job much easier.
If King Edmund was a tyrant, then getting him to bestow a high rank on Renny would have been near impossible. Typically, the tyrants choose a few close comrades and bestow the ranks on them, granting them control over everyone where their influence will never waver.
Having King Edmund acting fair and righteous meant he wouldn't shy away from granting titles to those that deserved it.
The only way Milo thought this could go downhill was if Edmund decided to grant Milo the title and not Renny. In that case all of his efforts would have been for nothing.
Out of the corner of Milo's eye he caught a glimpse of Renny trying to stifle a laugh seeing Milo being carried by the King.
Milo was handed off to another woman dressed similarly to the healer.
"Here, take him and get him patched up", The King ordered.
"Right sir", the woman bowed, nearly dropping Milo before scampering away into a white room with advanced technology surrounding a lone bed.
Milo was placed on the bed and before he had the chance to ask what was happening, multiple masked men and women poured into the room and began attaching wires to his wounds.
A fluorescent light beamed down from the ceiling into Milo's eyes, he winced, and the woman ran over placing a pair of goggles to block out the light.
'Well, this really is something'.