In the middle of a grand arena, two figures could be seen.
On one side was a young man, with a physique leaning on the smaller side and a body covered in tribal tattoos, as well as eyes full of cold and vicious fury. In his left hand, he wielded a sharp longsword.
His name was Eliotis, ninth-ranked royal seat holder.
On the other was Amon, wearing battle robes of black, and apart from a pitch-black ring on his hand, he seemed to have brought nothing else to this battle.
Seeing Amon's slight smile and his nonchalant demeanor, Eliotis nearly snapped, but he soon managed to calm down, looking around at the large crowd of watchers who'd gathered in the stands, all chanting and reciting his various names and feats.
An arrogant smile bloomed on his face, and his posture suddenly relaxed.
BOOM!
The ground shattered as Eliotis immediately moved, but shockingly, it wasn't because he'd attacked but rather because he'd instantly been forced to dodge a lance Amon had thrown.
Sweat matted his forehead as his heart violently slammed against his rib cage, but he pushed it all down and flared his aether, his speed picking up as he closed the distance.
'Stupid.'
While it was true that in this case, based on Amon's first move, the most intelligent reaction was to close the distance and assume he wasn't proficient in close-quarter combat, this was a foolish endeavor when it came to him.
He extended a hand, and a spear of white aether formed, immediately tainted by colors of green and purple.
He lightly swung it at the air, and from this swing, an arc of chaotic aether was launched, crashing into the speeding Eliotis.
BANG!
Amon instantly followed with a swipe of his hand, sending a dozen aether singularity beams toward his opponent.
BOOM!
Eliotis' shield had barely begun to dissipate when Amon soared out of the cloud of aether and toward him, his blade streaking across the air to launch a series of cleaves in a second.
SHAH!
Blood flowed as dozens of gashes were torn across his chest, his warm green blood staining the floor, but he didn't have the time to linger on this as a kick dug into his chest, sending him flying, only to be followed by another wave of beams.
BOOM!
Amon rested his spear on his shoulder and shook his head, looking toward the elders in the private sections of the stands.
"So-called 'royal seat' holder, hm? Does the boy even train?"
A roar of rage echoed and a sudden pulse of aether engulfed the arena.
Beaten and haggard, Eliotis stood up, his body slowly healing under the power of a spell he'd just cast.
Around his body, blue and red flames manifested, intertwining to form a colorful dragon that snaked around his body.
On his left fist, the blue flame took root, and on his right fist, the red did the same as around his head, a crown of white flames appeared.
Seeing this new form Eliotis had activated, Amon couldn't help but whistle, feeling this transformation was truly impressive. The pressure he now gave off was no joke.
But regardless, his victory was assured, so instead of worrying, he smiled and waved a hand, inviting Eliotis to attack.
Infuriated by this, Eliotis immediately set off, flames igniting at the soles of his feet to boost his speed.
PAH!
He sent a punch forward, his blue flames carrying an icy edge, but without any difficulty, Amon deflected the punch before he then coated his palm in aether and sent it crashing into his opponent's gut.
Eliotis was stunned, having lost the ability to breathe when a second palm came crashing into his chest, shattering his bones, but this wasn't all, as he felt the very aether within his body slowly… fade.
'I see… so I can even decay aether. Well, this makes it much easier, too easy, perhaps.'
He grabbed Eliotis' skull and as he squatted down, rammed it into the stone floor of the arena.
CRACK!
A sickening crack echoed as his head made contact with the ground and fractured.
Amon raised Eliotis' head, his body seemingly having gone limp and his gaze full of fear and fury as he stared into his eyes.
"Why are you so… weak?"
These words cut like a dagger into Eliotis' heart.
At the beginning, Amon had merely been taunting and teasing him, trying to disturb his mental state so he could have an advantage, but now, he truly felt like this man was weak beyond reason.
It was a fight of life and death, and yet, he hadn't used any spells, had barely used his affinities and elements, and had shown subpar sword skills.
If it wasn't for the fact that Amon wanted to make a show out of this, he could've killed him with one single supercharged aether singularity beam.
The worst part was that as an Undead from a Noble background, Eliotis should have a lineage that granted him a terrifying healing prowess, just like Amon, but for some reason, he barely managed to heal, even when casting healing spells.
It was all too strange.
[Father, it's called Lineage Hierarchy, or as humans would call it, Bloodline Suppression. Remember, the tier of your lineage and race are not the same as the one the others use; it is a totally different scale.]
'Suppression? But I don't even know how to use my lineage?'
[A lion does not need to roar to let its supremacy reign!]
Amon chuckled hearing Mordred's enthusiastic and excited tone as he nodded and bashed Eliotis' head into the ground once more.
'To kill… or not to kill…'
He looked around at the crowd, basking in the silence as he observed their expressions of horror, fury, and disgust, both toward him and Eliotis.
Basking in such a moment, Amon wasn't intimidated in the least, but still, for some reason, he felt reluctant. Something within him told him killing Eliotis would be a mistake.
Just as he began to sigh, a weak voice reached his ears.
"K... ki-… Kill! M-… Me! Kill me!"