Every era has its defining theme. In the Age of Mysteries, before the gods bathed the world in glory, the theme was violence, plunder, and destruction. Every creature fought to claim resources, gambling their lives to survive and reproduce.
But in this Age of Gods, Igula believed the new theme was domination—domination over individuals, organizations, cultures, and even thoughts.
With large-scale wars now a rarity and territorial expansion a thing of the past, society revolved around the competition for existing resources. Social classes had ossified, institutions reigned supreme, and the raw violence of plunder had been replaced by more "elegant" forms of exploitation. In this age, crude force was no longer enough. Only the refined art of mental domination could thrive.
And when it came to domination, mind mages were unmatched.
Though Igula was "merely" a two-winged mind mage, in this hierarchical Blood Moon nation—where most people's life paths were set at birth and few ever glimpsed the higher realm of the Void—he was a predator at the top of the food chain.
The Blood Saints and Moonshadow Clan monopolized the most dangerous knowledge, leaving ordinary mages ignorant of the very existence of mind magic, let alone ways to defend against it.
Igula himself had only become a mind mage thanks to his awakened succubus bloodline, which led him to resonate with two key Void entities: Resonance and Fulfillment. Combined with his base-level spirit, Contract, this trio of spirits granted him a miraculous ability: "Words Into Action."
With this miracle, Igula could manipulate anyone who entered into an agreement with him—be it a joke or a lie. Using Resonance to establish a connection, Contract to bind the promise, and Fulfillment to enforce it, he could compel others to obey his words.
In the civilized world, this miracle made Igula practically invincible. If he hadn't crossed paths with someone even craftier, he'd likely still be lounging on a sunny beach, sipping cocktails, instead of trading blows in this lake-locked prison.
But even in prison, where direct spirit use was restricted, Igula remained a master of domination. Spirits were embodiments of knowledge, after all, and as long as he was clever enough to improvise, he could still achieve his goals.
A Beast Tamed
Igula smirked as he easily dodged Ash's punches, his tone dripping with mockery. "So weak, so soft—your fists still have the scent of milk. You think you can hit anyone with those?"
Ash's thoughts flooded into Igula's mind, thanks to a little trick he had devised in prison. By combining the Contract bond with subtle verbal cues, he could sustain Resonance during fights, allowing him to anticipate his opponent's every move.
"He's going to punch my left cheek."
"He'll kick at my left shin."
"He wants to grab me."
Each of Ash's intentions echoed in Igula's consciousness, like a trapped beast futilely baring its fangs. Igula's smirk deepened. Once shackled, livestock could never harm their master.
Through 45 deathmatch victories, Igula had used this trick to crush one opponent after another, draining their contribution points until they were reduced to nothing. Ash, he thought, was just another lamb, ready to be roasted and devoured.
"He's aiming a straight punch at my chest."
Igula dodged with ease, delivering a counterpunch with a mocking grin. "Close, but not quite! Keep trying, little lamb—"
But this time, Ash ducked and sidestepped Igula's counter, closing the gap with an elbow strike.
Igula backpedaled, avoiding the hit, but for the first time, he felt a sliver of unease. Ash had dodged. That had never happened before.
The game wasn't fun anymore. Time to end it.
With a sharp breath, Igula surged forward, focusing entirely on predicting Ash's movements and aiming for his vital points.
From the crowd came cheers and jeers:
"Finish it already, Beast!"
"Don't break the newbie too soon! I wanna play next!"
"Hey, save some thigh meat for me! Don't hog it all, Ronna!"
Ronna, perched smugly on her partner's lap, suddenly leaned forward. "You won't get any meat, because he's not losing."
The crowd's laughter faltered. Gazes turned back to the ring, and murmurs of disbelief rippled through the stands.
Ash's movements, while still clumsy, had become more calculated. He blocked and dodged with increasing efficiency, forcing Igula to land only one out of every four punches. Even when Igula's strikes connected, Ash managed to deflect or minimize the damage with his arms.
He wasn't getting faster—if anything, his exhaustion was slowing him down—but his actions had grown sharper, more deliberate, as though he had started to anticipate Igula's tactics.
The crowd's chatter grew louder.
"Isn't this guy just some cult lackey?!"
"Looks like the Beast is finally up against someone with a brain."
"Or maybe... this guy's learning in real time?"
"Don't be stupid," muttered a veteran prisoner. "If he's improving, it's because he's finally showing his true colors. This was an act from the start!"
"No." White-haired veteran fighter Tyger's expression darkened. "He wasn't pretending. He was genuinely terrible before."
Ronna nodded. "His body shows no signs of training—it's soft, untempered. This fight might actually be his first real close combat in years."
"You're saying..." someone whispered.
"Exactly." Ronna's voice carried a hint of pity. "An ordinary man, in extraordinary circumstances, has awakened an extraordinary talent. It's... a shame, really."
A Lamb's First Bite
Igula raised his hands to block one of Ash's punches—a first in the match.
"I have to admit," he said, his mocking tone giving way to a hint of tension. "Your learning speed exceeds my expectations. A gift from your god, perhaps? Or just a latent talent finally unearthed?"
"Unfortunately, it doesn't matter. Your body is still far too weak. All I have to do is outlast you, and you'll collapse."
Igula's voice softened, as if imparting a lesson. "Let your 1-point bet serve as the price of your evolution. Take pride in this transformation from lamb to beast. But understand—this fight will be our last. I won't accept your challenges again. You can't touch me within the rules of this prison."
"True power lies in mastering, using, and bending rules to your will. Your combat skill may elevate you from livestock to a beast, but beasts are still slaves to their instincts. And when you're thrown into the Bloodmoon Trial, I'll be sipping wine from a safe distance, watching you struggle."
Ash suddenly spoke.
"Don't cover your face."
Igula sneered. "Only a fool would—"
"You're pretty good-looking," Ash said casually, his tone strangely sincere. "Let me admire it a bit longer."
The flattery struck Igula off-guard. For a brief moment, his hands shifted from his face, as if to display it better.
CRACK!
Ash's fully charged punch smashed into Igula's cheekbone, knocking him unconscious instantly.
The arena fell silent, save for the triumphant chime of the scoreboard:
"Victory: Ash Heath!"