I Died and Became a Noble's Heir-Chapter 359: Demon Arts Part 1

The garrison fell into absolute silence as Jack held Oscar high above his head, the spear’s tip angled past his skull in a stance no one recognized.

Lord Dustpire leaned toward Lady Veyra, his voice barely above a whisper. "What is that? I’ve never seen that fighting stance before."

"Neither have I," Veyra replied, her honey-colored hair shifting as she tilted her head. "It looks ceremonial, but the killing intent..."

"Is anything but," Lord Arydn finished, his scarred knuckles white against his wine glass. "His bloodlust is seeping out of him."

Lady Mistfang studied Jack’s positioning. "The weight distribution is all wrong for using a spear. His balance is entirely on the back foot, which should make him vulnerable to forward pressure, but..."

"But he’s not planning to defend," Evelyne Veyra observed with a keen eye. "He’s loading power for a single overwhelming strike."

Chiron Stormblood stood motionless, white lightning crackling faintly around his clenched fists as he stared at Jack with intensity that bordered on obsession.

His eyes tracked every minute detail, the angle of the spear, the distribution of Jack’s weight, the way red lightning gathered along Oscar’s shaft.

Charlotte noticed her father’s fixation and felt her own lightning respond. Blue sparks danced across her knuckles as she watched Jack prepare to unleash something she couldn’t identify but desperately wanted to understand.

"Father," she whispered, "what is he doing?"

"Something I’ve never seen," Chiron replied without breaking his gaze. "And I’ve fought countless opponents."

Garrick remained silent beside his sister, but his hand had moved unconsciously to his sword hilt. His warrior’s instincts recognized danger.

On the Kaiser family platform, Octavia leaned forward with her usual analytical precision. "That’s not anything from the standard combat curriculum. I’ve studied every major spear technique documented in the past three centuries. This doesn’t match any of them."

Alaric’s golden eyes remained fixed on his son, genuine curiosity mixing with pride that threatened to crack his usually stoic expression. Lady Genevieve squeezed his arm gently.

"Father," Octavia turned to face him, "you trained him. What technique is this?"

"I didn’t," Alaric responded, his tone conveying a sense of wonder that astonished his daughters. "I never taught Jack any spear techniques. Everything he knows with that weapon, he learned himself."

"Self-taught?" Celeste’s eyebrows rose. "That’s... actually impressive. Most self-taught fighters develop terrible habits."

"Jack doesn’t do anything by half measures," Lady Genevieve observed with a slight smile. "If he developed his own style, you can bet he perfected it."

Octavia’s analytical mind raced through possibilities. "But where did he even get the foundation? You can’t just invent combat techniques from nothing. There has to be a base methodology, some framework he’s working from."

"Look at him," Alaric said quietly. "Pay attention."

Jack stood perfectly still, red lightning crackling across his skin in patterns that seemed almost alive. The spear above his head vibrated intensely, causing the surrounding air to resonate.

His red eyes blazed with focus so intense it felt like looking into the heart of a storm.

And beneath the stance, there was something else. There was something flat and hollow in the way Jack watched his target; it was the look of a man consumed by a bloodlust that would not be satisfied by a single blow.

"He looks excited," Annabelle whispered, her charcoal pausing mid-stroke. "Like he’s been waiting for this."

"Sounds like he wanted someone to really push his boundaries." Alaric nodded.

Across the garrison floor, Rhys stood patiently. His green eyes glanced at Jack’s stance with growing dread.

’What is he doing?’ Rhys thought desperately toward Sylph. ’I’ve never seen anything like that.’

’Neither have I,’ Sylph replied, her usual mischievous tone replaced by genuine concern. ’And I’ve seen a lot of combat styles over the centuries. Whatever he’s preparing... It’s not conventional. Be ready to move the moment he...’

Red lightning exploded across Jack’s entire body with enough force to make nobles flinch backward.

The crackling energy wrapped around him like a suit of armor, coating every inch of exposed skin in red lightning that blazed with violent intensity.

Jack’s grin widened with feral anticipation.

His entire body dropped as he swung Oscar downward in a devastating arc. His hand slid down the spear’s shaft as he struck, extending his reach and building momentum that transformed the blow from a spear strike into something closer to a war hammer’s crushing impact.

Nobles watched in confusion as the spear arced toward the ground, perhaps fifteen feet in front of Rhys. The attack wouldn’t reach him; the distance was too great.

But Jack’s grin never faltered.

The moment before Oscar’s tip touched stone, Jack vanished.

He ceased to exist in one location and appeared in another.

Reality folded in as Jack materialized directly in front of Rhys with Oscar already in motion, the downward strike continuing with momentum that had built through the spatial displacement.

’BLOCK!’ Sylph screamed internally, panic replacing her usual playful confidence.

Rhys tried. His hands moved to raise his daggers, to form some kind of guard, but his body was too slow. The damage from their previous exchanges caused his reaction time to slow down.

Green light exploded from Rhys’s body as Sylph took direct control. Wind currents condensed in front of him in layered barriers. Three walls of compressed air stacked together.

Oscar hit the first barrier with force that made the entire garrison shake.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the barrier’s surface, green light fracturing as compressed air struggled to hold against overwhelming power. The first shield shattered.

The second barrier caught Oscar’s continued descent, slowing but not stopping the cursed spear’s momentum.

Oscar crashed through all three layers of defense and slammed into Rhys. Stone exploded upward in fragments that peppered the nearest nobles. The floor cratered beneath the impact, creating a depression wider than Rhys’s stance that dropped several inches into fractured bedrock.

Rhys sank into the crater, his feet losing grip as the ground gave way. Oscar’s weight pressed down on him through the destroyed barriers, the spear’s cross-bladed tip catching his left shoulder and pulling downward with inexorable force.

Pain exploded through his shoulder as one of the blade edges hooked flesh and muscle. He tried to pull away, but Jack’s grip on the spear was absolute.

Jack yanked Oscar backward, and the hooked blade pulled Rhys forward. The elf stumbled out of the crater, off-balance and vulnerable.

Jack’s right leg came up in a devastating front kick that caught Rhys in the stomach.

The impact drove the air from Rhys’s lungs with such force that his diaphragm spasmed. He flew backward, boots leaving the ground as momentum carried him across the garrison floor.

He crashed into a stone twenty feet away, rolled twice, and came to a stop.

Oscar left his hand in a throw that transformed the spear into a red lightning-wreathed lightning bolt.

The weapon screamed through the air, as lightning crackled and struck the ground.

Rhys saw it coming; he tried to dodge, but his body wouldn’t respond fast enough. Oscar’s blade grazed his right arm, cutting deep enough that blood immediately began pouring from the wound.

The cursed spear continued past him, heading for the garrison wall where it would embed itself in stone.

He appeared beside Oscar mid-flight, his hand closing around the weapon’s shaft casually.

The catch looked effortless, as if the spear had been moving in slow motion.

The nobles watching gasped. Several stood from their seats, unable to believe what they’d just witnessed.