NOVEL NEXT Chapter 231: Strength
"These warriors..." Damien muttered, a chill of realization sliding down his spine. "They're alive, yet their eyes..."
"They're mind-controlled," Lyrisa explained quietly, her voice tight but composed, drawing her scimitars with practiced ease. The weapons gleamed sharply, whispering gently as they cut through the air.
"Everyone who fails the trial becomes part of it. This ensures an endless supply of warriors for the inheritance site."
Damien narrowed his eyes slightly, fists clenching and unclenching as he studied the warriors stepping forward mechanically. "How many have fallen here, then? Over all these years..."
Lyrisa shrugged lightly, though her voice carried an undertone of seriousness. "More than we could count. That's why failure isn't an option."
The gate clanged shut, and five warriors stepped forward, forming a disciplined, menacing line. Their movements synchronized with eerie perfection, their armor clanking softly as they shifted position.
Damien inhaled deeply, his senses heightened, tasting the metallic tang of ancient bloodshed in the air, feeling the rough grit of sand beneath his feet, hearing the measured breathing of his foes. He felt completely in tune with his surroundings, every nerve alert and tingling in anticipation.
Then, without warning, the warriors lunged forward as one, their blades slicing through the air with sharp, deadly whistles.
Damien moved effortlessly, his body fluid and precise. He ducked beneath a powerful overhead swing, feeling the air rush past his ear, crisp and sharp. He twisted around, delivering a swift, brutal elbow strike to the warrior's ribs. Bone cracked audibly, the sharp snap echoing satisfyingly in his ears.
Lyrisa, beside him, moved with lethal elegance, her twin scimitars weaving a mesmerizing dance of destruction. Metal met metal, creating bright, musical chimes that resonated clearly throughout the arena. She pivoted gracefully, slicing through an opponent's defenses with flawless accuracy, each strike a display of pure, graceful violence.
Damien moved on instinct alone, his focus sharp, body responding with perfect precision. He spun, a second warrior lunging toward him with a spear. Damien sidestepped easily, feeling the rush of air brush his skin, cool and dangerous.
Grabbing the spear's haft, he wrenched it free effortlessly and slammed it back against the warrior's helmeted head. The ringing impact vibrated up Damien's arms, satisfying and final, as the warrior collapsed limply to the sandy floor.
"Impressive," Lyrisa murmured appreciatively, eyes shining with genuine respect as she dispatched her own opponent, blades slicing with surgical precision through weak points in the warrior's armor.
The remaining three charged simultaneously, their movements unnaturally synchronized. Damien exhaled slowly, muscles coiling. The world around him slowed, his heartbeat steady, rhythmic.
He saw every motion with stunning clarity, the subtle shifts of their weight, the trajectory of each attack, the pulsing glow of their eyes.
He stepped forward confidently, engaging all three at once. His punches and kicks moved with deceptive gentleness, yet each strike carried tremendous force.
He felt each impact clearly, the crunch of armor buckling beneath his blows, the soft hiss of air expelled forcibly from his opponents' lungs, the brittle snap of joints dislocated with ruthless efficiency.
A warrior staggered back, gasping raggedly, but Damien pressed forward relentlessly, sensing victory. His foot slammed into the man's chest, the impact reverberating sharply up his leg. The warrior tumbled to the ground, armor scraping harshly across the sandy floor.
Another swung wildly, desperate and aggressive, but Damien caught his wrist mid-strike, twisting sharply until a sickening pop echoed clearly in the arena. The warrior's blade fell uselessly from numbed fingers, clattering loudly on the ground.
Damien's knee surged upward, striking him squarely in the abdomen, sending the figure crumpling silently to the floor.
The last warrior hesitated briefly, just enough for Damien to close the gap instantly. A quick, precise jab connected solidly with the warrior's jaw, the sound of the impact crisp, definitive. He slumped heavily, unconscious before his body touched the earth.
Lyrisa stood watching, her lips curled in a faint, appreciative smile. "You haven't even broken a sweat," she noted softly, genuine admiration coloring her voice. "And you didn't even draw on your death energy."
Damien relaxed slightly, breathing calm and steady. He offered a light shrug, his confidence palpable but not arrogant. "There was no need. They're strong, disciplined, but predictable. It's pure combat technique and intuition."
Lyrisa laughed softly, her eyes gleaming with approval. "Your reputation truly doesn't do you justice."
The defeated warriors vanished suddenly, their forms dissolving into motes of blue-white light. A deep rumble resonated throughout the arena, and another gate slowly creaked open, revealing the next set of opponents awaiting their turn.
"Four more rounds like this, at least," Lyrisa warned, stepping closer, scimitars spinning effortlessly at her sides. "Each more challenging than the last."
Damien cracked his knuckles lightly, the sound sharp and satisfying. "Good," he said calmly, a genuine eagerness lighting his eyes. "I could use the exercise."
Round after round followed in swift succession, each group of warriors increasingly skilled and better armored than the last. Yet Damien and Lyrisa moved through them effortlessly, their teamwork flawless, their individual combat skills exceptional.
Damien relished every detail, the stinging bite of sweat trickling down his brow, the salty tang of exertion coating his tongue, the harsh sounds of clashing weapons, and the quiet satisfaction as each warrior fell beneath his precise strikes.
His breath flowed evenly, muscles working harmoniously, never tiring or faltering.
Lyrisa matched him perfectly, her movements a breathtaking blend of deadly elegance and swift brutality. Her scimitars flashed brilliantly beneath the flickering torchlight, the sharp ringing of her weapons creating a fierce, rhythmic melody that echoed hauntingly through the arena.
Her dark skin glistened faintly from exertion, yet her breath remained even, calm.
Finally, after the fifth round ended decisively, their opponents lay defeated and scattered around them, silent and still. Damien brushed a light sheen of sweat from his brow, feeling invigorated rather than tired.
Lyrisa approached him, her expression openly impressed. "Incredible," she murmured sincerely, her eyes searching his face carefully. "I expected strength, Damien, but not like this. You have immense skill, rare even among seasoned drow warriors."