Chapter 49: Confrontation (2)
’He’s far more ruthless than before’
Slightly taken aback by the sudden increase in speed and accuracy, Matthew’s defences were breached by the constant attacks.
’I have to kill him!, my honor is on the line here’.
Parrying a few of his attacks sparks showered the modest room with each clash, the scythe’s dark arc tearing through the air while Matthew’s lightning-imbued sword retaliated in sharp, precise strikes.
Clark’s breathing steadied, his movements sharper, his swings no longer wild but deliberate—every strike calculated under the influence of his skills. His scythe moved like an extension of his will, grazing Matthew’s shoulder, then twisting back with deadly accuracy to force him onto the defensive.
"Tch—!" Matthew clicked his tongue as the weapon nearly clipped his neck. His lightning flared, crackling around his blade as he swung with renewed desperation. "You’re fighting like a completely different person!"
Clark’s gaze remained hollow, his expression unreadable. He deflected another electrified slash with the flat of his scythe, his body pivoting smoothly to counter with a sweeping strike aimed at Matthew’s ribs.
The blow connected partially, sending Matthew stumbling back, smoke rising from the charred spot where the scythe had grazed his armor.
"He’s adapting too quickly... no wasted movements, no hesitation. Damn it, if this keeps up—" Matthew thought as he steadied himself.
Lightning suddenly exploded outward from his body, filling the room with blinding sparks. He lunged, blade descending in a furious arc, the crackle of energy burning scorch marks into the floor.
Clark caught the strike on his scythe, the impact vibrating through the room as if the walls themselves groaned under the pressure. Still calm, still precise, he twisted his weapon just enough to redirect the lightning blade, leaving Matthew wide open.
In one smooth motion, Clark’s scythe sliced down diagonally, stopping mere inches from Matthew’s chest—close enough for the heat of its aura to singe his clothes.
Matthew’s eyes widened, his breath caught between fear and rage.
"I said you wouldn’t see the end of this day and I tend to keep my promises"
Clark’s flat voice resounded.
Matthew’s chest heaved as he staggered back, sweat beading across his forehead. For the first time, doubt flickered in his eyes.
"Damn it... he’s dismantling me piece by piece. If I don’t gamble everything, I’m not sure I’ll survive!"
’My trump card it is, then!’. After deliberating for a split second, Matthew gathered all the lightning elements that were scattered about the room a
Clark narrowed his eyes, his scythe twirling calmly in his grip. ’The openings are clearer and my body’s agility is off the charts. So this is what being an A rank feels like’.
His movements slowed but became unnervingly deliberate, each step avoiding the chaotic bolts as if he knew exactly where they’d land.
"You think dodging will save you?!" Matthew spat, his eyes bloodshot as the lightning from his sword condensed. In one reckless move, he poured all his mana into a single thrust. The blade gleamed like a spear of pure thunder, the floor cracking under the force.
’His attacks are becoming more desperate...i need to see his blood on my hands, I need to hear him beg desperately for mercy...’
Infusing his heightened mana reserves into his scythe and mana shield, Clark raised his scythe horizontally at the direction of the blade and prepared himself to intercept it.
Tilting his legs backwards and crouching his knees in preparation, Clark sucked in the electrified air and forcefully ignored the hairs that stood on end all over his body.
A loud crackle resonated throughout the inn. The spatial formation couldn’t take anymore damage and faded into nothingness— triggering an alarm in Rose’s office.
’This is...Clark’s room..’
The sense of urgency that appeared in the heart of Rose immediately she received the alert slowly vanished and was replaced by undeniable hesitance and doubt.
’He must have gotten stronger and destroyed the formation while training. I’ll give him the bill for that later....probably’. Rose reasoned and briskly ran back to her seat with a pensive expression.
Meanwhile back in the nearly destroyed room, Matthew and Clark were currently engaged in a tug of war with their lives literally on the line.
The floorboard where Clark stood smashed in due to the impact of the attack, but his face showed no signs of panic or any emotions at all.
’If I abandon my defensive position, ran towards him during his attack and strike him down, I’ll be able to salvage what’s left of my home and.....feel pain’. Clark analyzed
Screaming through clenched teeth, Matthew’s muscles bulged visibly and the lightning blade flared brighter in an attempt to finish him off before he ran out of mana .
His face remaining neutral despite his gradually blackening arms, Clark took a step forward, then another and another until the distance between him and Matthew wasn’t as large as before.
"W—what do you think you’re doing?!". Matthew asked with confusion and doubt flickering on his face while reducing the length of the lightning sword to secure his ground.
Ignoring the question, Clark took one more step, the lightning crashing against his face, the smell of burnt skin filling the room as he extended his hand toward Matthew.
"You’re crazy!" He exclaimed in shock and shifted positions to dodge the menacing grip, effectively cancelling the attack.
The mixture of water and lightning caused a haze to be formed in the destroyed room, there was smoke everywhere and a bloody faced figure could be made out.
’The only thing that lets me know I’m alive is pain, and even that feels distant, diluted...as if I’m no longer worthy of it’.
Slowly reaching his hand for his face to feel his pulsing flesh beneath, Clark winced upon making contact.
’Then maybe the death of others can make me feel...alive’
An extremely dangerous thought process. One that no sane man should entertain, yet again, Clark was never sane to begin with.
And Matthew was possibly going to validate his theory.
Matthew charged forward once more, the lightning surrounding his sword dimmer than before and attempted to slash horizontally at his chest.
Clark watched calmly, his skills anticipating and countering any variations that popped up in his mind. The blade was inches away from his chest before he held it with his bare hands.
Shock registered on Matthew’s face once more as he watched the blood flow through the blade and drip softly against the shattered woods.
Without giving him a chance to come out of his shock, Clark’s scythe formed a clean horizontal slash aimed for his neck.
Learning from Clark, Matthew held the blade of the scythe with clenched teeth.
A wide grin formed on his face as he taunted, "You’re not as cold as you make yourself out to be".
No verbal response came from Clark, but the increased force at which he pushed the scythe towards his neck told the story.
Both sides were locked in a battle of strength where one slip up could cost them their lives and the blood that continually flowed from the hands that shielded their bodies attested to that fact.
’This isn’t going anywhere’
’This isn’t going anywhere!’
Both men came to the same conclusion at the same time and as if their actions were connected, both weapons were knocked wide. The scythe scraped across the floor while Matthew’s lightning-wreathed blade skidded away, sparks dying out in the cracks of the stone.
Neither of them sought to heal their bleeding bodies as their fists clashed with unbridled intensity.
Clark lunged first. His fist smashed into Matthew’s jaw, snapping his head sideways with a sickening crack. Before the noble could even register the blow, Clark drove a knee into his gut, folding him over, then followed with a brutal elbow to the back of the skull that sent him crashing to the ground.
Matthew tried to rise, coughing blood, but Clark didn’t give him the chance. A kick slammed into his ribs, rolling him across the floor. He barely had time to groan before Clark was already on him, dragging him up by the collar and burying another punch straight into his cheekbone.
Crimson sprayed across the shattered floor.
Each strike was merciless, precise—knuckles to flesh, boot to bone. Clark didn’t waste movement; he didn’t let Matthew breathe. A jab to the throat stole his air, a palm strike to the sternum rattled his ribs, and a spinning kick snapped his head back with brutal finality.
Matthew’s body slammed into the shattered bed and slumped, dazed eyes barely able to focus.
Clark’s hollow gaze never wavered as he advanced, step by step, the sound of his boots ringing louder than Matthew’s ragged breaths.
Gripping his collar, blood dripping down their faces steadily, Clark spoke coldly, "You’re skilled with weapons, but I can tell you’ve never fought with your life on the line".
Planting a punch on his cheek, Clark continued, "You’re skilled...for a noble, that is".
Matthew’s face twisted in anger, the blood and broken teeth making him look horrifying but his eyes never left the hollow ones of Clark.
"I....admit defeat". Matthew spoke lowly
Clark’s fist halted mid air and he stared at the defeated eyes of Matthew for a while before answering lowly.
"If only those words were enough to soothe the darkness budding within me"