Chapter 101: Manifestation
Beru’s sword cleaved through the ball.
An explosion rang out, rippling through the air.
Fissures began appearing in space, long and thick.
Somewhere outside the dungeon, two people stared at a screen.
It was split into eight sections, each one displaying a different student.
But they were not watching all of them equally.
Although their senses could follow all eight at once, they had chosen to focus on one.
Azrael.
His back and forth with the High Orc had caught their full attention.
"Well, at least this confirms he can hold his own during the tournament," Abaddon said, turning to Erebus.
Erebus nodded, then spoke.
"But is this not strange?"
Abaddon nodded in response.
The dungeon had existed for a long time and its monsters should have advanced gradually, not like this. They did not understand how the monster had reached tier seven without their knowledge.
Abaddon remained silent for a moment.
"Once they are done, destroy the dungeon."
He said it with the ease of someone asking for an insect to be removed from their path.
That was an entire dimension, potentially larger than a planet.
Erebus bowed, right hand on his chest.
"Yes, my Lord."
Azrael hovered in the air as if gravity did not apply to him.
Essence oozed from his body, making the surrounding air tremble.
Beru stood adjacent to him, just as composed as when the fight began.
His crimson sword still pulsed with unspent essence.
The wind roared as both of them lunged, faster this time.
"Curse arts," Azrael called as he closed in.
Zareth’s frame pulsed with essence.
Steel met steel.
But the result was not sparks.
A tremor swept outward and a vacuum opened in space.
Beru’s sword felt heavier from the collision, as though Zareth had infused it with weight it had not carried before.
He swung regardless, his mass carrying the sword as it arced toward Azrael’s neck from the left.
Azrael raised Zareth, catching it with the flat of his blade.
A tremor tore up his arm, rattling bone and flesh.
Beru pulled back and slashed forward in the same breath, targeting Azrael’s torso.
Azrael pivoted sideways, narrowly clearing the strike.
His body lunged backward once more, avoiding a thrust.
He looked at Beru with a smirk.
"Spatial arts," he said.
Zareth’s frame shifted slightly in acknowledgment.
Azrael lunged, gaze sharp.
Beru did not wait. He tore forward to meet him.
Everything else blurred as Azrael became his sole point of focus.
Click.
That was the sound that echoed through Beru’s ears as Azrael reappeared behind him.
The sword was already arcing toward Beru’s torso with the precision of a seasoned warrior.
It met empty air.
Beru reappeared behind Azrael, mirroring the technique perfectly.
Everything in Azrael’s head screamed danger, but it was already too late.
Against his own command, his body moved, activating phase shift.
At the same time, his body shrank.
The sword slashed over his head, cutting through the very fabric of space.
The shockwave from the attack passed through his intangible body simultaneously.
Azrael returned to his normal size, sword lashing upward with him.
"Explosion arts."
The sword connected with Beru’s blade, erupting in white flames that threatened to devour the crimson steel.
But Beru remained unmoved, his essence coiling around the white flames until they were snuffed out.
Azrael leapt back, creating distance.
His pupils dilated as the earlier scene replayed in his mind.
He had not expected Beru to copy his spatial arts.
That was too outrageous.
"Just use the manifestation art and end this," Zareth’s voice came through with clear frustration.
Azrael shook his head, remembering Raksha’s teaching on soul swords.
According to Raksha, a soul sword was meant to carry only two skills. One ultimate and one standard.
But Zareth had bypassed all of that, granting Azrael access to a range of abilities called arts.
And an ultimate skill on par with the abilities of Primordials.
Although Raksha had not warned Azrael about using the arts in general, he had specifically warned him about the manifestation art.
And so Azrael held back.
"Do not worry. I can handle this," Azrael said.
His body pulsed as want essence answered his call.
Something began to form in front of him.
And as it took shape, his pupils widened.
He had used Want Manifestation to create what Beru feared most.
It turned out to be Erebus.
The manifestation did not speak.
It lunged.
Beru’s entire body tensed at the sight.
Even though it was not the real Erebus, the trauma Erebus had inflicted on Beru was apparently deep enough to paralyze him regardless.
A spear appeared in the manifestation’s hand as it closed in.
No. Not a spear.
An ordinary stick.
But to Beru, that stick carried more weight than any weapon in existence.
It was the same one that had nearly killed him over a year ago.
Azrael squinted from the sidelines.
The manifestation drove toward Beru’s head.
His daze broke, but too late.
The stick pierced through his torso, drawing crimson blood for the first time.
"Devouring arts," Azrael said, lunging toward the wound.
Zareth absorbed the blood before the wound could close.
An exhilarated sound filled Azrael’s head as Zareth drank it in.
Azrael felt the katana strengthen as it absorbed the blood but did not dwell on it.
Looking at the manifestation, which could barely sustain a second action after the first, he sighed.
"Seems like I cannot make the manifestation overwhelming on its own," Azrael muttered.
This was the first time he had tested the skill in real combat and although it had worked, it had not met his expectations.
Just then, something appeared from the sky.
A single blue spark of flame.
Azrael’s body moved on its own, katana arcing upward to slice through it.
"Sealing art," he said as he swung.
Azrael had expected his sword to cleave through the spark and absorb it, but reality proved otherwise.
The sword passed through as though the flame did not exist in the same space.
As it reached the manifestation, a change occurred.