Chapter 143: Vincent’s Realization
Adrian's dagger hovered dangerously close to Vincent's throat, its razor-sharp edge glimmering with a soft, ethereal light.
Vincent's breath came in ragged gasps, his entire body trembling from exhaustion and pain. He could feel the warm trickle of blood oozing from the numerous cuts and bruises Adrian had inflicted on him.
The agony was overwhelming, yet what stung the most was the sheer humiliation—the realization that he had been thoroughly outclassed.
"Too weak," Adrian murmured, his voice devoid of emotion. The dagger's glow dimmed as he retracted it, taking a step back from Vincent, who was still reeling.
"You didn’t even push me to my limits. And here I thought the 'Lightning Fist' would give me a good fight."
Vincent’s eyes flashed with anger, but it was short-lived. His shoulders slumped, his fists unclenching as he struggled to stay on his feet.
There was no denying the truth in Adrian's words. He had given it everything he had—each and every skill, every ounce of mana, every drop of blood and sweat—and yet, Adrian remained almost unscathed, his breathing calm and steady.
Adrian continued, his tone now laced with mockery. "So much for the 'Lightning Brawler.' You're nothing but a dim spark."
He tilted his head slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "At least I’ve learned something valuable from this… I can fight on more than equal terms with Second-Class Awakened like you."
A ripple of shock passed through Vincent’s expression. "What…?" he whispered hoarsely. "You’re… you’re still First Class…?"
Adrian didn’t bother answering. He simply turned his back on Vincent, dismissing him with that single act.
The oppressive aura he exuded seemed to ease, and the enchanted dagger in his hand flickered before the light within it extinguished completely.
He sheathed the blade, his gaze already shifting to the other occupant within the barrier—Asmodeus.
The Blood Knight stood a short distance away, his eyes wide with disbelief. The powerful Abyssal Knight was rooted in place, watching the aftermath of Adrian’s effortless victory over Vincent.
A mixture of emotions played across his face—astonishment, fear, and, above all, caution.
Vincent, a formidable opponent in his own right, had been defeated in a matter of minutes, and yet, Adrian seemed completely unfazed.
No, more than that—Adrian looked… bored. As if the battle had been nothing but a trivial exercise for him.
Asmodeus clenched his jaw, his hand drifting to the hilt of his massive, black-bladed sword. The weapon, pulsing with a dark, malevolent energy, almost seemed to sense its wielder’s unease.
It vibrated softly in its sheath, emitting a low hum that only Asmodeus could hear.
Adrian’s eyes locked onto Asmodeus with an intensity that made the Abyssal Knight’s blood run cold. There was no hesitation, no fear—only a cold, calculating confidence.
"My dear Aunt," Adrian called out casually, his gaze never leaving Asmodeus. "Can you adjust the barrier? I’d like to have a go with him next."
For a brief moment, there was silence. Then, Seraphina’s voice, clear and steady, echoed through the shimmering barrier that surrounded them. "Of course."
With a flick of her wrist, the barrier shimmered and shifted once more. The section separating Asmodeus from the rest of the combat zone dissolved, leaving him alone with Adrian and Vincent’s barely conscious form.
Seraphina’s hands moved gracefully, weaving intricate patterns in the air as she channeled her mana into the barrier spell. The shimmering wall of energy shifted and reformed, rearranging itself to separate Adrian and Asmodeus from the others.
Vincent felt a sense of weightlessness as he was gently pulled toward the edge of the combat zone, his body sliding across the ground with surprising ease.
Before he could even protest, he found himself alongside Barom Mortimer and Isolde, who, previously separated, were now all in same single barrier region.
The protective dome sealed them off, leaving Vincent to catch his breath in a secluded corner. He winced as the last remnants of his strength faded, his body sinking to the ground, too drained to move.
The pain from his wounds was nothing compared to the ache in his pride.
As Vincent laid down, he realized something, he hadn't told his name to Adrian. But Adrian had addressed him by name—had even referenced his class.
Yet, Vincent was certain he had never introduced himself, and he wasn’t famous enough for his reputation to have reached the ears of someone like Adrian Everhart.
He glanced toward Baron Mortimer, "Did you… tell him my name?" Vincent asked, his voice hoarse.
Baron Mortimer shook his head slowly, his brows furrowing in confusion. "No… I haven’t said a word. When did I even have time to tell your name?"
Vincent frowned at this realization, but how did he know his name and class. He knew he was not that strong that his fame was spread throughout the kingdom. He had a vague premonition that, perhaps they had offended someone, they could not afford to provoke.
The ease with which he had dismantled Vincent, the casual arrogance in his tone, the way he seemed to dismiss the power of a Second-Class Awakened like it was insignificant…
It was terrifying.
"Adrian Everhart," Vincent whispered to himself, the name now carrying a weight that sent shivers through him.
There was something deeply unsettling about this young man—something far beyond the raw power he had displayed.
Vincent clenched his fists, ignoring the pain that shot through his bruised knuckles. He had to figure it out—had to understand just what kind of monster they were dealing with.
But before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, the air within the arena crackled with tension.
His gaze unintentionally shifted back to the battlefield, where Adrian and Asmodeus stood face-to-face, their gazes locked in a silent confrontation.
The protective wall now enclosed just the two combatants, creating a separate arena for them to battle in.
Asmodeus felt a shiver run down his spine. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his gaze never wavering from Adrian.
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his instincts screaming at him to be on high alert.
This… this was no ordinary opponent. Adrian was dangerous. Lethally so.
"Vincent was so-so," Adrian remarked almost conversationally. "I wonder… will you be same or be different form him? I hope you are, as your fate depends upon how excited you can make me for the fight." His voice now filled with taunt and mockery.
Asmodeus bristled at the provocation, his pride as an Abyssal Knight flaring. "You think you can defeat me?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. "I’m not like him. I won’t go down without a fight."
Adrian smiled—a cold, predatory smile that sent a chill through Asmodeus. "Good," he replied softly. "I’d be disappointed if you did."
Without another word, Asmodeus drew his blade, the massive sword glinting with a dark, ominous light. As he took his stance, a crimson aura began to emanate from his body—his Dread Presence.