"Enough!!"
Hundreds of bodies lay on the ground. Azraüs stood there, panting over his mace. Nathanaël, his eyes shining, was also there, sitting on a body that had received a kick to the ribs just a few minutes earlier.
He looked at his hands, thoughtful, reflecting on his actions and the way he handled things.
He hadn't killed anyone, but he was aware that he had shattered dreams and broken legs. It was as if he had killed them from the inside. Maybe it could be healed, but it would never be the same. He couldn't overlook such harshness. He had to take this book at all costs, even if the world didn't want him to. So it was a little sad to have to extinguish careers like this.
Despite everything, he had never felt so tired after such a long effort. Time and again, the warriors of Dan had nearly ended his own life. Without Azraüs, he would have died, and multiple times at that. But the most worrying part was that most of them didn't have extraordinary auras—or only absurd amounts leaking from their bodies. They were just normal humans who had perfected their art to such a degree that their mastery became nearly lethal almost all the time.
Nathanaël was terrified. He had never exerted enough effort to reach this kind of genius—the work geniuses who could achieve perfection through sheer effort. He wasn't one of them. And now that he faced several of them, he understood just how frightening that could be. Compared to others, a perfectly mastered art made a person seem directly more divine than another—as if they had risen above everyone in all domains, while only perfecting one.
Nathanaël had never reached that level. Lost in his plans, the slightest pursuit of perfection depended on the extremely slim chance that everything aligned. And it never did. Anchored in these theories, the most he could give for a cause was to sweat. And Nozras had managed to ignite in him an urgent quest to change that.
However, Dan hadn't fallen—not as long as his leader hadn't fallen.
"Azraüs, son of the ogre, do you really think you'll get away after all you've done? You claim to be a warrior aiming for the throne, but you're just a kid."
An authoritative, imposing voice rose from the storm, while the wind still raged.
But Azraüs smiled as usual, seemingly unconcerned.
"Sometimes it takes kids to remind adults that they are not invincible."
The voice seemed to approve in the silence.
"You're right."
The sun began to rise as the figure of the leader of Dan, their final opponent, started to emerge through the swirling dust rising to great heights.
"I don't believe I've given you my name."
"No need. Everyone knows it—the chief of Dan, the most powerful clan in Nozras, the terror of the drylands. The false king."
Nathanaël had no idea who he was.
"The false king?"
"Yes. He is, in a way, the king of Nozras outside the arena. He is the most powerful of those who came out of the arena and once sat on the throne with his clan. However, they were dethroned."
"I see. Another false chosen one."
Suddenly, the voice cut through the wind's cries.
"Do not mock, stranger. This world is full of greater madmen than his father or the one who accompanied him. There is no shame in being removed from the throne. The only shame for a warrior is never having fought."
Then the voice paused briefly before continuing in a calmer tone.
"I've learned who you are. You are as formidable as your companion."
"Yeah, that's all Nathy's strength."
Azraüs was proud, but Nathanaël seemed perplexed. Facing a warrior who had already sat on the throne wasn't part of his plans. On top of that, his clan members were already formidable enough, so he couldn't gauge just how strong this guy could be.
The warrior was sparsely dressed as well. However, he wore an immense coat made of beast hides—a beast feared in Nozras. But whatever its name, it was now nothing but fur and protection for the false king. His tattoos were few: a line running along his right side and around his back, a line on his face circling his head, and a line on his right leg encircling it. He clearly didn't like tattoos; he had been forced to get them to look like a true warrior. The head of the slain beast seemed to devour his own. Yet it was the beast that had died. His brown skin shone under the rising sun. He looked calm even though his clan had been completely defeated.
"Could he be stronger than Reno?"
"Don't worry, Nathy. Whether it's him or my father, we would still struggle."
"That doesn't reassure me much."
"You think you can defeat me together?"
He held a long staff as a weapon, engraved with countless symbols, as if the staff itself carried all the tattoos that were supposed to represent his victories. Its thin tip looked like a snake's head, but its diamond-shaped blade didn't seem practical at all.
The chief of Dan gripped his staff firmly. Nathanaël could see all his muscles contract with the slightest movement. It was scary; he had them all over his body like a statue carved in the form of a perfect human being made for combat.
"And with all that, what is his name?"
"His name is Zvrag, the false king of Nozras."
Zvrag raised his head toward the duo. His cold, hard gaze met the hopeful eyes of his two opponents.
"And I will put an end to your journey."
Nathanaël immediately felt an immense pressure. It was as if the aura around him screamed at him to be careful. His senses sharpened automatically, and his aura went into guard mode. In less than a second, he was ready.
"How? He's not even from the other world."
Nathanaël realized something. The aura of certain people didn't depend on where they came from, but rather the influence they had in their world. The difference was that the inhabitants of his world couldn't manipulate it to enhance themselves. That's why he had no special or extraordinary power. When he felt this pressure, he knew Azraüs could feel it too, but while he saw the aura unleashing, Azraüs saw a man whose presence made others step back.
And it was terrifying. Compared to everything he had seen in this world, the chief of Dan's aura was even more frightening than Goagi's.
"I see."
This time, Zvrag violently swung his staff, and the wind around him erupted in all directions. The entire area seemed to rotate around the aura of the chief of Dan, while the very atmosphere grew ominous.
Nathanaël and Azraüs were exhausted, but this was not the time to whine. They had to face this monster to enter the capital.
Nathanaël sincerely questioned the usefulness of this fight for his objective, as it was all just Azraüs' whim to come and teach a lesson to those who had attacked them.
Yet, turning his head, all he saw in Azraüs was a wide, frenzied smile.
And that, he didn't know if it was even more terrifying than the monster before them.
"Let's go."
In a fraction of a second, the two were no more than a meter from the false king. Nathanaël, sword in hand, and Azraüs with his club.
Zvrag effortlessly countered both of them with his staff.
"Pfff."
"What strength."
"You must be dreaming, little ones."
Zvrag pushed them back with sheer force before charging at Nathanaël. A powerful vertical strike came down on him. He barely managed to block it, but his strength wasn't enough to stop it completely, and he was quickly overwhelmed, crushed like a mere insect.
Nathanaël hadn't faced this kind of raw power since Reno.
"Damn!"
Azraüs quickly returned with his club and struck Zvrag behind the head, but to his great surprise, the false king didn't even flinch.
Determined to crush Nathanaël for good, the false king didn't even glance back for a second.
"Nathy! Hold on!"
Azraüs charged again. This time, his strike was far stronger. Zvrag stepped back a meter, but still hadn't taken any real damage.
Nathanaël took the opportunity to stand while Azraüs continued his assault. Blows rained down on the false king, but he blocked every single one.
The speed at which everything was happening even surprised Nathanaël. Yet, despite never chaining attacks at such velocity himself, the false king countered calmly and didn't seem troubled at all.
Very quickly, the tide of the assault turned in his favor. He even managed to catch Azraüs' club mid-air, completely stopping him.
"What?"
Zvrag then lifted him off the ground and grabbed Nathanaël's arm, who had also approached. Azraüs was in the air in his left arm, Nathanaël on the ground in his right. Zvrag seemed like the king of Nozras himself—a massive fortress they should never have challenged.
"Except I must remind you…"
"Hmm?"
Nathanaël freed his arm from the false king's grip and tried a roundhouse kick on his target.
"…That you are nothing but a fake."
Zvrag received the blow on the left side of his head while Azraüs also struck above with a kick. He dropped his club and grabbed the false king's head between his hands, a wicked smile on his face.
"One down."
Azraüs tried to violently twist Zvrag's head with all his might, yet…
"The ogre might have succeeded, though."
Zvrag calmly turned his head the other way. The veins on his neck bulged violently as Azraüs' hands tried everything to twist it.
Azraüs couldn't believe it. The false king grabbed him and slammed him to the ground with the strength of one arm. Nathanaël withdrew and attacked again at high speed. He drew his sword from nowhere and tried to slice Zvrag. However, Zvrag stepped back and blocked the sword again with his staff.
"Will you be any better?"
"No."
Nathanaël knew one thing well: for now, no one could be considered better when facing this monster.
He tried again with several simple diagonal strikes. Swordsmanship wasn't what he had practiced the most, whereas Zvrag mastered his staff perfectly. He wielded it and controlled its trajectory flawlessly, making nearly any approach impossible.
Nathanaël was completely overwhelmed. On top of being pushed back by unmatched mastery, he was crushed bit by bit, taking increasingly powerful blows in the worst spots for him.
Azraüs arrived again. His club was no longer in his hand. And Nathanaël knew perfectly well what that meant....
"...But one day, they brought me his weapon, that huge club that I don't even know how to use."