Chapter 52: Battle!
Suddenly, Bufolk didn’t waste time and burst forward, like a thrown spear of flesh and mana.
Hia fist dug the ground and immediately, the space between seemed to vanished as he reappeared in front of Clay and—
BAM!
His fist drove into Clay’s side face, then slid through the line of impact, cheek to cheek, jaw to cheek—
A single strike delivered with chained precision, each hit following the last so ruthlessly there was no time to react.
The air around them split.
Not metaphorically, it was lliterally torn apart by the pressure of the blow.
A shockwave exploded outward, blasting dust, grit, and pulverized stone across the battlefield.
The ground beneath Clay cracked violently.
Fractures spread in every direction like a spiderweb of destruction, the earth unable to contain the force that had been poured into a single moment.
Pressure rolled outward in waves so destructive that the Captain, the knights, and the archers, standing a little far behind Clay, were still forced back by the heavy impact!
Their feet slid across the ground.
Some lost balance outright, collapsing to the earth with faces pale and mouths open as their bodies struggled to remain upright under the violent ripple that kept coming.
Cerys, who had already taken a few steps back the moment she sensed the clash about to begin, stopped.
Her eyes widened.
Her breath caught—
because this wasn’t ordinary fighting. Not another clash of power.
This carried a weight that made even instinct scream danger.
As Bufolk’s fist pressed against Clay’s cheek, he was waiting, expecting, and hoping to see some reaction from her master.
But she found there was none.
Clay stood there, completely still.
Not even leaning from the impact.
His face was calm... almost seemed like he’s bored... like what had struck him was nothing more than a light tap rather than a blow meant to crush bone and shatter stone.
And when Bufolk saw it... he felt that indifference and saw Clay looking back at him without even a flinch—
Bufolk’s grin slowly stretched wider and wider until it looked less like confidence and more like delight edging into madness.
"You are strong!" Bufolk said, voice brimming with exhilaration. His whole body trembled with thrill he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Clay’s eyes didn’t change.
"And you are weak."
The words fell flat.
Then—
Bang!
None of the onlookers saw but Bufolk’s body was somehow launched backward as if an invisible hammer had struck him from the side.
The air exploded behind him.
He shot across the battlefield, crashing through debris and dirt, his feet carving trenches into the earth as he forced himself to stop... grin still intact, eyes burning brighter than before.
This... this is it...
This is what I have been looking for...
Without hesitation, he lunged again.
His body blurred.
He vanished—
and reappeared in front of Clay.
Boom!
Another fist. Another explosion. Another shockwave.
The ground trembled again.
But Clay didn’t move.
No blink.
No step back.
Nothing.
And once more—
Bufolk was sent flying.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Each time Bufolk attacked, his speed rose... his strikes came faster and heavier, the mana around him growing denser, angrier, more oppressive. Each collision carved new marks into the ground; each clash scattered dust and fragments into the air as if the world itself was trying... and failing... to contain them.
And through it all—
Clay remained planted in the same spot.
Unchanged expression.
Same calm indifference, as if he was watching something that didn’t satisfy.
He is getting stronger...?
Clay could feel it.
With every attack, Bufolk’s mana thickened.
The air became harder to breathe. Pressure increased to a level where even the knights and archers far behind them began to tremble with suffocation... unable to imagine stepping into that battlefield without being crushed on contact.
Still not enough.
Bufolk lunged one more time.
This time, everything he had poured into a single strike.
Every ounce of strength.
Every pulse of rage.
And he brought his fist down... HARDER!
The world held its breath.
Then Clay finally moved.
His arm lifted.
His fist drove forward.
BOOM.
The moment their fists collided, a deafening explosion tore through the battlefield. The ground collapsed inward as if even the earth couldn’t survive the impact.
Bufolk’s body was driven downward—
smashed into the earth with such force that a massive crater formed.
Dirt and rock blasted upward like a violent fountain, swallowing him from sight as the dust churned into the sky.
Silence followed.
For a brief instant, the battlefield went still.
Then the dust settled.
Clay stood there with his arm lowering back to his side, expression unchanged, as if this had required no more effort than stretching after a long rest.
Behind him, the Captain, knights, and archers stared in disbelief.
Then something broke inside them.
Relief... pure and ferocious.
Their voices erupted all at once.
"Victory!"
"Young Master Clay!"
"He defeated him!"
"Praise the God of Light!"
Some raised weapons.
Some dropped to their knees.
Faces filled with gratitude and awe as they looked at Clay’s back like it was divine—like salvation had descended into steel and flesh.
"Thank you!"
"Thank you for protecting us!"
"The pride of the Holy Kingdom!"
"Our savior!"
The Captain stepped forward, voice hoarse, yet loud enough to cut through everything.
"Young Master Clay has saved us! He has protected the people! The God of Light has guided him to us... into our time of need!"
Chants continued, rising into the sky as if gratitude itself had become a storm.
Cerys stood quietly to the side.
Her heart beat faster despite herself.
Young master...
You are truly...
She couldn’t finish the thought.
Even she couldn’t measure it.
And at that moment, deep within Clay—
something stirred.
Not excitement.
Not pride.
Disappointment.
Another one punch...?
He stared at the crater.
Why is it always like this...
A hollow feeling passed through him for the briefest moment, like a gap in a wall he hadn’t known was missing.
Why does it feel... empty...
Then his frown tightened.
Bullshit.
I’m just acting... It doesn’t affect me!
He tried to clamp the feeling down before it could grow.
But before he could dwell on it any longer, afraid that it might come true... when a loud and strong laugh echoed from within the crater.
Full of excitement.
Then... debris exploded upward as Bufolk shot out of the depths, leaping back into the air and landing in front of Clay once more.
Dust scattered.
His posture straightened.
His bone armor was cracked, dirt covering him, but his face... his face was still smiling.
"Impressive," Bufolk said, steadying his breath. "Very impressive."
He lifted his hand, brushing dust off his shoulder like the damage was nothing.
Broken pieces of his bone armor clattered to the ground one by one.
Clay watched, expression unchanged.
Bufolk continued, voice carrying a rare sincerity beneath the thrill.
"Your physical strength... it is monstrous."
"Without using mana... without becoming a berserker like us..."
"You managed to force me back up several times."
"I thought breaking my bones is all that you can do..."
His eyes gleamed.
"And yet..."
"You sent me flying several times in my berserk form."
He laughed again... bigger this time... as if he couldn’t contain the hunger inside him.
Clay tilted his head slightly.
"Is that so?"
Bufolk nodded.
"Yes."
Then his expression sank into seriousness as he glanced downward at his armor—watching the last fragments fall away.
"Unfortunately..."
"With your current level of strength..."
"you will still not last against me."
Without warning, his body began to change.
His skin turned red—
not slowly, but rapidly.
As if something inside him had awakened.
A violent surge of mana erupted outward in all directions, blasting the air into a visible pressure wave. The ground cracked further beneath his feet, pressure pressing down so hard that soldiers and archers staggered back again, faces turning pale at the difference between what they had just seen—and what was coming now.
This was no longer the Bufolk from moments ago.
This was something else.
Something far more dangerous.
His muscles swelled.
Veins bulged across his arms.
His breath grew heavier, each inhale sounding like a decision.
The air distorted around him under the intensity of his presence.
"Hahahahaha!"
Bufolk laughed—voice deeper now, raw power roaring behind every syllable.
"Now... this is what I wanted..."
"I’m going all out next!!!"
He lowered his stance, eyes locking onto Clay.
"Let us go for round two!!!"
Clay finally smirked slightly.
"You should have done that from the start."
Bufolk’s grin widened.
Then he roared—
"Bersukaaaaaaaaa... IMPACT!"
His fist slammed into the ground.
And the world shook.