I Died and Became a Noble's Heir-Chapter 360: Demon Arts Part 2

He landed in a crouch, Oscar held loosely in his right hand, and turned to face Rhys with a grin that was beyond anything he’d ever seen in his life before.

"Now we’re fighting!" Jack’s laughter resonated throughout the garrison, conveying a genuine, almost unrestrained, sense of joy. "Show me more, Rhys! Show me everything you’ve got!"

Red lightning crackled more intensely around his body. His red eyes blazed with excitement as his body entered a state of pure combat euphoria.

This was what he’d been waiting for. Someone who could take punishment and get back up. As the days went by, he craved fights more and more.

Jack launched himself forward, and Oscar became a red blur as Jack’s assault escalated beyond tactical precision.

He struck from above, the spear arcing down with force that cracked stone where Rhys had been standing a fraction of a second earlier.

The elf rolled left, his wind-enhanced movement barely keeping him ahead of the devastating strikes.

Jack laughed, pure, unrestrained joy, and adjusted his attack mid-swing.

The spear’s shaft rotated in his grip as he redirected the downward strike into a horizontal sweep. Oscar’s blade traced a red line through the air at chest height, lightning crackling off the weapon’s edge with hungry intensity.

Rhys ducked, feeling displaced air ruffle his silver hair. His daggers came up in a desperate counter-thrust aimed at Jack’s exposed ribs.

Jack didn’t dodge. He planted Oscar’s butt-end into the ground and used it as a pivot point, his body swinging around the spear in a movement that looked almost acrobatic.

His boots connected with Rhys’s wrists, kicking the daggers aside with contemptuous ease.

Then Jack released the spear entirely, grabbed it mid-fall with his other hand, and drove the weapon forward in a thrust that would have skewered Rhys through the chest.

Sylph’s barrier manifested as a desperate wind wall that diverted the thrust fractionally off-target. Oscar’s blade passed close enough to tear Rhys’s shirt and draw a line of blood across his ribs.

"Excellent," Jack affirmed, his voice imbued with a fervent intensity. "Sylph’s getting faster with the defensive barriers! But can she keep up?"

He spun Oscar in a complex pattern, the spear becoming a wheel of red lightning that attacked from six angles simultaneously. High, low, thrust, sweep, overhead, rising strike. Each attack flowed seamlessly into the next.

Rhys tried to create distance, but Jack closed the gap quicker than he could get to safety. The elf’s wind-enhanced jumps bought him seconds of breathing room before Jack’s Abyssal Step erased the advantage.

’He’s not fighting strategically anymore,’ Rhys realized as he narrowly avoided a thrust that would have taken out his knee. ’He’s just... enjoying himself. Like this is entertainment rather than a duel.’

’He’s escalating,’ Sylph confirmed, her voice tight with concern. ’Every exchange makes him push harder. This isn’t someone trying to win. This is someone testing their own limits by pushing yours.’

Oscar swept low, forcing Rhys to jump. Mid-air, Jack appeared above him by using Abyssal Step to put himself in position to strike while Rhys had no leverage to dodge.

The spear came down like divine judgment.

Rhys threw up both daggers in a desperate cross-block. Oscar crashed into the improvised guard with force that drove him into the ground like a nail struck by a hammer.

The stone beneath his feet didn’t just crack. It pulverized, creating a crater three feet deep that swallowed him to his waist.

Pain exploded through his arms as the impact vibrated through bone and muscle. His daggers held, barely, but he felt hairline fractures forming in both wrists from absorbing that much force.

Jack landed on the crater’s edge, spun Oscar in his hands, and thrust forward with the spear’s butt-end.

The strike caught Rhys in the solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs. He doubled over involuntarily, and Jack’s follow-up knee caught him in the face with enough force to break his nose.

Blood sprayed across green-lit stone as Rhys’s head snapped back. He tried to create wind currents to push Jack away, but the curse of fighting someone faster meant defensive techniques never had time to fully form.

Jack grabbed the front of Rhys’s torn shirt and yanked him out of the crater. For a moment, their faces were inches apart, Jack’s red eyes blazing with feral excitement, meeting Rhys’s green-lit gaze that held growing desperation.

"You’re doing great!" Jack said with genuine enthusiasm. "Most people would be unconscious by now! Sylph’s healing is really impressive!"

Then he threw Rhys across the garrison like a discarded rag.

The elf crashed into a support column hard enough to crack the reinforced stone. He slid down the pillar, leaving a smear of blood, and collapsed in a heap at its base.

’Get up,’ Sylph urged desperately. ’You have to keep moving. If you stay down, he’ll...’

Jack appeared in front of the pillar, Oscar’s tip pressed against the stone inches from Rhys’s throat.

"Get up," Jack echoed Sylph’s internal command, sneering. "We’re not done yet. I haven’t even started using my techniques."

Rhys forced himself to stand, using the pillar for support. Blood poured from his broken nose, his left shoulder screamed in protest, his right arm continued bleeding from Oscar’s graze, and his ribs sent sharp pains through his chest with every breath.

But he stood nonetheless.

His green tattoos blazed with renewed intensity as Sylph flooded his system with power that ignored normal safety limits.

Healing magic worked frantically to keep critical systems functional. Wind magic gathered with desperate intensity.

A spirit’s manifested power in their contractor is directly reflected by their bloodline, talent, and determination.

For example, if someone with a strong bloodline, but weak talent, were to form a contract with a mythical creature. The amount of power they could manifest would be about 40% of what someone else could achieve. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Numerous factors come into play with a contractor. And even more factors for when a spirit or creature decides with whom they wish to contract.

"That’s what I want to see!" Jack’s grin widened impossibly further. "Fighting spirit! Determination! The refusal to quit even when you should!"

He thrust forward, Oscar screaming toward Rhys’s chest with speed that made the weapon nearly invisible.

Rhys twisted aside, barely, and the blade passed close enough to tear his shirt. His left dagger came up in a counter-strike aimed at Jack’s wrist.

Jack didn’t block. He shifted his grip on Oscar, letting the spear rotate in his hands, and the shaft intercepted the dagger with a metallic clang.

Then he continued the rotation, using the momentum to sweep Oscar in a rising arc that caught Rhys under the chin.

The blow lifted Rhys off his feet. He flew upward, crashing into the garrison’s ceiling twenty feet above, and dropped like a stone down a well.

Jack was waiting when he landed.

Oscar struck downward, catching Rhys mid-fall and driving him into the ground with the same devastating force Jack had opened the assault with.

Stone shattered. Dust exploded outward. The crater from this impact was deeper than the previous ones, four feet down into bedrock.

Rhys lay at the bottom, coughing blood, his vision swimming. The green tattoos flickered unstably as Sylph struggled to maintain healing under this level of continuous damage.