NOVEL NEXT Chapter 76: The clash of pride and power
The restaurant was gripped by a suffocating silence, as if even the walls dared not breathe. The only sounds that remained were the faint creaks of shattered wood and the erratic breaths of those who remained within. The air had thickened, heavy with tension, pressing down like an invisible weight. Beads of sweat clung to the brows of Bako and Bili as they stood behind Nyxander, their nerves taut, their bodies poised as if anticipating an unseen threat.
Nyxander, however, remained as he was, unshaken. Seated with an air of utter composure, his sky-blue eyes reflected neither concern nor impatience, only an impassive curiosity. His presence was a quiet storm, a force of nature resting before it decided to rise. The contrast between his serenity and the apprehension in the room was striking.
Above, on the second floor, Kola's subordinates had retreated to a corner, their bodies tense, their instincts screaming at them to act. Yet they stood firm, awaiting the unspoken command of their leader. They knew better than to interfere.
Kal and Kola remained locked in an unyielding gaze, each gasping for breath, each refusing to lower their guard even for a fraction of a second.
Then Kal moved. With a deep inhale, his body surged forward, his immortal energy crackling around him, illuminating the battle in a ghostly gleam. His grip tightened around his axe as he swung it low, his movements sharp and deliberate. As he advanced, he lifted up a broken wooden chair with the axe, hurling it towards Kola in a seamless motion.
Kola reacted instantly. His right fist shot forward, shattering the chair into splinters midair. The debris scattered in slow motion, floating like falling leaves in a storm. But as the dust settled, Kal was already there. The axe, now aglow with power, streaked toward Kola's right side, the edge mere inches from his neck.
A heartbeat. A whisper of steel. Kola's left hand snapped up, his palm closing around the axe's blade. A dull clang rang through the restaurant as sparks flickered at the point of impact. The veins on Kola's arm bulged as he held firm, his grip a vice against the deadly edge.
His subordinates flinched, ready to intervene. "Don't… move… an inch." Kola's voice was steady, but a single bead of sweat traced its way down his cheek. He tightened his hold, his muscles straining as he resisted Kal's force.
He exhaled sharply, eyes locked onto his opponent. "Where is your shame? Resorting to cheap tricks?"
A chuckle. Low and rough. Kal smirked, pressing down harder with his axe. "Hah. A few weeks ago, those words might have cut me deep." His voice carried an edge of amusement, but also something deeper, something learned. "But then I met someone who said, 'Save those words until you face someone stronger than you.'"
He inhaled, letting the words sink in. "At first, I hated hearing it. But now… now that I get to say it back, it feels pretty damn good."
With newfound resolve, Kal shifted his weight, intending to push forward. But fate had other plans.
The treacherous floor, littered with wreckage, betrayed him. His left foot landed on a jagged piece of broken wood, sending his boot sliding ever so slightly. In that fleeting moment of imbalance, Kola seized his chance.
His muscles tensed, his left arm trembling as he forced the axe's momentum away. Then, with a calculated motion, he twisted his body backward to the left, his grip on the axe shifting just enough to redirect Kal's force. The sudden imbalance worked in his favor. Kal faltered, his footing slipping just as Kola's right elbow surging forward towards him.
The impact was brutal. Kola's elbow struck Kal's temple with the force of a battering ram, sending him airborne. His body twisted midair, his axe tearing free from his grasp as he was hurled backward. He crashed through tables and chairs, splinters exploding around him, before his body finally skidded to a halt against the wooden floor.
Silence down the ground floor, Nyxander, Bako, and Bili witnessed Kal's body arch through the air. The inevitability of the power behind kola's strike.
Bako and Bili stiffened, their postures shifting instinctively into battle-ready stances. Their muscles coiled, ready to charge. But before they could move. "Don't interfere."
Nyxander's voice was calm, yet absolute.
His gaze never wavered, his expression unreadable as he leaned slightly into his chair.
"The spar has already reached a fair level," he continued, his tone carrying a quiet authority. "Intervening now would only damage his reputation." He glanced at them, his smirk deepening. "And neither of you would want that, would you?"
The weight of his words sank deep. Bako and Bili hesitated, their hearts pounding in protest, but their bodies obeyed.
They forced themselves to stillness, though the unease in their eyes betrayed them. Sweat trickled down their temples as their hands clenched into fists at their sides.
Meanwhile, Nyxander exhaled softly. His fingers drummed lazily against the armrest before he rested his head against his left palm, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Interesting." The word was almost a whisper, barely audible beneath the heavy tension that now loomed over the wrecked restaurant.
Kal lay sprawled on the floor, his fingers brushing against shattered plates and splintered wood as he struggled to push himself up. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling like waves in a violent storm. Beads of sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, splashing onto the dust-covered ground below. His muscles ached, his vision swayed, but his resolve burned ever brighter.
"What a turn of events," he muttered, forcing a smirk as he staggered toward his axe.
His right hand gripped the weapon's handle, its weight familiar, grounding him amidst the chaos. But before he could straighten, a blur of movement filled his vision, Kola, charging toward him with relentless speed.
With a powerful leap, Kola's boot struck a wooden table, shattering it into a rain of splinters as he propelled himself high into the air. His right fist, clenched tight and crackling with immortal energy, came hurtling down toward Kal like a meteor descending from the heavens.
Kal reacted on instinct. Shifting his weight, he dodged to his right just in time, feeling the rush of displaced air as Kola's fist struck the ground where he had just stood. The impact sent a shockwave through the floor, cracks spider-webbing outward as dust billowed into the air.
Seizing the opening, Kal swung his axe upward, the blade catching the dim light filtering through the shattered windows. The weapon sliced toward Kola's jaw, swift and unforgiving.
But Kola, ever the seasoned warrior, bent his upper body backward with precision, the razor-sharp edge of the axe whistling past his face, so close he could feel the wind of its deadly arc.
Without wasting a breath, Kola retaliated. His left fist shot forward, aiming directly for Kal's chest. But Kal was ready. He raised the rod of his axe, deflecting the strike before using the momentum to spin backward. His movements were fluid, each transition seamless. With a final, calculated twist, he extended his axe mid-spin, its gleaming blade carving through the space between them, aiming for Kola's torso.
Kola barely had time to react. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his muscles hardening as he imbued them with his immortal energy. The axe struck with a resounding clang, the sheer force behind it sent Kola flying backward, his body a projectile of destruction.
His body smashed through a thick stone pillar, sending cracks racing across its surface before breaking through the second-floor guardrail. The wooden structure splintered under the sheer force, and in a heartbeat, Kola plummeted like a falling meteor, crashing onto a table below. The furniture exploded into a spray of debris, wooden shards scattering like airborne daggers. A thick cloud of dust rose from the impact, momentarily shrouding him from view.
Kal straightened, his steps slow yet deliberate as he approached the gaping hole in the guardrail. His axe rested on his shoulder, the rod pressing lightly against his collarbone. He gazed down at Kola's motionless form, waiting for movement.
Then, his eyes shifted. Below, Nyxander sat comfortably, his expression unreadable. Their eyes met, and in that single moment, Nyxander gave a slow, approving nod.
Kal exhaled. With a powerful leap, he descended from the second floor, his boots landing with a soft thud as his body bent slightly to absorb the impact. As he rose, he strode toward Nyxander, his expression one of measured pride.
A slow, deliberate applause echoed through the silent wreckage.
"Very good," Nyxander praised, his voice smooth and effortless. "It seems those workouts over the past two weeks were not for nothing."
Kal parted his lips to respond, but before he could utter a word, a harsh scraping noise filled the air.
All heads turned.From within the wreckage, Kola stirred. Pushing aside the broken remains of the table, his body rose, slow yet steady. The dust clung to his sweat-soaked skin, mixing with the faint sheen of blood trailing down his temple. His breaths were labored, but his eyes, his eyes burned with a ferocity that refused to be extinguished.
His subordinates, Edgar and Eadric, rushed to his side, their concern evident. With cloths in hand, they wiped the sweat and dust from his face, their feet kicking away the debris surrounding him.
Despite the bruises forming along his arms and torso, Kola stood tall, his gaze scanning the room before locking onto Kal.
Nyxander, unbothered by the tension in the air, leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. His golden eyes gleamed with intrigue as he regarded Kola.
"So," he said, his voice carrying across the room like a blade cutting through silk. "What is your comment on our response to the welcome gift you presented us?"
Kola's gaze flickered, shifting from Kal to Bako, then to Bili before finally landing on Nyxander himself. The room hung in silence, the once volatile tension now replaced by a colder, more subdued stillness.