Sam emerged from Luna's Hollow world, hands casually tucked in his pockets, as if he had just taken a leisurely stroll. The arena was deathly silent as the spectators tried to process what they had just witnessed. Escaping from someone else's Hollow world without permission? Unheard of—yet here he was.
Matt, who had been fending off Alan's relentless attacks, suddenly froze. His eyes widened as he saw Sam approaching him, still with that casual, almost bored expression on his face.
"Hey, Matt," Sam called out, his voice carrying across the arena. "You done playing with my friend? Thought I'd take over now."
Alan, sensing the shift, stepped back, breathing heavily but with a slight smirk. "All yours," he said, knowing Sam was about to unleash something beyond anything they had seen so far.
Matt gritted his teeth, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. "You shouldn't have been able to leave her Hollow world… What are you?"
Sam shrugged, a small, mischievous smile playing on his lips. "I don't like being told what I can and can't do."
Before Matt could react, Sam vanished from his sight. The next moment, he felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. Spinning around, Matt found Sam standing right behind him, his face just inches away, wearing a devilish grin.
"You look tense," Sam teased, leaning in closer. "Want me to help you relax?"
Matt lashed out with his hammer, but Sam easily sidestepped the attack, hands still in his pockets. He moved with a fluidity that made it seem like he was dancing around Matt's desperate swings. Each time Matt tried to strike, Sam would appear at a different spot, sometimes behind him, sometimes above, even standing casually on Matt's own weapon.
The crowd was in awe, eyes glued to the unfolding spectacle. Sam was toying with Matt, making it clear that he was in complete control of the situation.
"Come on, Matt," Sam taunted, "Is this all you've got? I thought you were stronger."
Matt roared in frustration, slamming his hammer into the ground. The earth shook, jagged rocks bursting from beneath to impale Sam. But before they could touch him, the rocks crumbled to dust, dissolving into shadows that danced around Sam like playful spirits.
"Nice try," Sam said, his voice dripping with mockery. "But you'll have to do better than that."
Matt's face twisted in anger. He unleashed a barrage of soil spikes, each one aiming to pin Sam down. But Sam was too fast, dodging effortlessly, moving like a shadow. Then, with a flick of his wrist, Sam unleashed a wave of darkness that swallowed the spikes whole.
"You know," Sam said, almost thoughtfully, "You and your friend made a real mess of this place. How about I clean it up?"
The darkness around him surged, forming a massive hand that reached out and grabbed Matt's hammer. With a casual squeeze, the hammer shattered into pieces, leaving Matt weaponless and stunned.
"Oops," Sam said with a chuckle. "Looks like I broke your toy."
Matt staggered back, his eyes wide in disbelief. "You… you broke my Arcon," he muttered, staring at the shattered remains of his weapon.
Sam chuckled, clearly amused. "Did you hear that, old man?" he spoke aloud, as if talking to someone only he could hear. "This was his Arcon."
A deep, rumbling laugh echoed in Sam's mind—the voice of the demon. "Pathetic. They call this an Arcon now? How the mighty have fallen."
Matt backed away, fear finally creeping into his eyes. He had never felt so helpless, so completely outmatched. Sam was no longer just toying with him; he was dismantling him, piece by piece.
"I'll give you a choice," Sam said, his tone suddenly serious. "Surrender now, or I'll show you what happens when I stop playing nice."
The entire arena fell silent, the weight of Sam's words sinking in. The demon inside him had made its point—this was no ordinary fight. This was a demonstration of power, a warning to anyone who dared to challenge him.
Matt, trembling, looked around, seeking some way out. But there was none. Finally, with a defeated sigh, he dropped to his knees.
"I… I surrender," he muttered, unable to meet Sam's gaze.
Sam smiled, the darkness receding as he relaxed his stance. "Good choice," he said, turning his back on Matt and walking away, his hands once again tucked into his pockets.
"You know, you guys from the Shade Society… you've really let yourselves go," Sam said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You've grown weaker day by day. Isn't that right, old man?"
The demon's voice hummed in agreement. "Indeed. They're nothing but a shadow of what they once were."
Sam shrugged. "I knew you'd never agree with me, but whatever." He glanced at Matt, who was trembling, struggling to maintain his composure. "Well, my duty's done here. Kid, it's time to come back."
With those words, Sam's eyes flickered, and the darkness that had enveloped him began to fade. The menacing aura dissipated, leaving behind the Sam that everyone knew—except this time, his expression was one of confusion and unease.
Alan walked over, clapping Sam on the back. "Damn, I didn't know you were holding back that much before. You took down Matt like he was nothing."
Sam remained silent, still processing what had just happened. He had seen glimpses of the demon's power before, but this time, everything was crystal clear—the overwhelming strength, the chilling ease with which he had defeated his opponent, and the dark voice that had taken control. The memory was no longer a blur, and that realization left him speechless.
He knew he couldn't ignore this any longer. Something had to be done, and fast. The power within him was growing, and if he didn't find a way to control it, there was no telling what might happen next.