Rebirth Of The Bastard Spirit Summoner

Immediately the fire erupted, Caylus grabbed Darell with both hands and then, using his body as a shield, he jumped down the podium, escaping the blast.

The other two knights were not as lucky. The first knight screamed, the fire permeating his flesh and searing his skin.

His entire body was covered in fire that stuck to him like glue, his head burned like a flaming torch as he ran and fell off the podium, dying shortly after.

The second, more experienced knight managed to shield himself with mana and jump back immediately he saw the fire. But he was not unscathed; the fire still managed to burn part of his body.

As Kaeri stumbled forward, Stark immediately raced toward her, using the momentary distraction to separate her from Caylus and Darell.

The elf clenched her jaw in pain as her body was wreathed in burns.

"That spell is still a bit too much for you, isn't it?"

She smiled through the pain, the pain showing on her face a second later.

"Chubby."

The little spirit materialised and stared at the area with a shocked look on its face.

"Huuuumm?" it squeaked.

"Heal her."

Kaeri's body was covered in a light blue glow and her expression softened as the burn wounds began to retreat.

Then Stark pulled out a small potion bottle from his shirt. "Drink this, it will restore your mana."

Without a question, she uncorked the bottle and took a sip before rising to her feet, both of them watching Darell and Caylus as they stood up.

"What did you do to me?"

"It's a special potion I got from a certain witch."

Stark had applied it on Shifu's axe earlier.

"Does that mean the mark is gone?" she asked, a tingle of hope in her voice.

"Not yet, you only have fifteen minutes." In that time, he pointed his sword forward. "We have to kill Darell."

Kaeri smiled. On her face was a look Stark had never seen. Unlike her usual calm self, this was more feral, more violent.

Fire erupted in her hand, reflecting in her gem-like irises as she stared at Darell.

"I would have loved to kill him myself, but I know you have business with him."

She turned her attention to the knight who had survived her attack. "Him?"

Stark nodded. "Have fun."

The knight seemed to bear his own grudge with her because, without waiting for Darell's command, he jumped down the platform and unsheathed his sword.

"Come here, kid. I'll teach you a lesson you'll take to your grave," he snarled.

Darell, on the other hand, had a pained look on his face as he watched Stark, his hand trembling on the hilt of his blade.

"How is this possible? What did you do?! Caylus, kill that bastard!"

The stalwart knight seemed tired of Darell's antics, but he still jumped down the platform, his armour rattling as he landed on the floor with a boom.

He had pulled out his sword previously, but as he slowly walked towards Stark, he placed it back in its sheath.

"Don't you think you would maybe… need that?"

The knight shook his head. "I only draw my blade when I need to. I don't need it to beat you."

Stark scoffed at his arrogance. "That's how proud folks like you get killed."

If the man was offended by his words, then he did not show it. The only expression on his face was pity.

"Kid… is this really worth it? Are you willing to die just so that you can get to him?"

Stark smiled. "You act far too righteous for someone who is nothing more than a dog for that treacherous pissant."

Caylus cocked a brow; apparently, that had offended him. "Very well. Ready yourself."

Stark sheathed his sword as well and cracked his neck.

"Let's go, old man."

As the sound of the devastating clash between Kaeri and her foe filled the area around them, Stark took a moment to observe his opponent.

He was faster than him, stronger than him, and far more experienced. Even in the inner world, he had not managed to beat him even once.

But this was not the inner world, this was reality, and Stark had never really gone all out.

With the bag of tricks he had hidden in his shirt and the power of a thousand simulations...

He would win. He had to win.

Whoosh!

Caylus crossed the distance between them at blinding speed, his blurry figure appearing right in front of Stark a second later.

He drew his hand back just before exploding into action, his fists cutting through the air at speeds too fast to keep track of.

A few hit their mark, landing with the force of a battering ram. Stark's body trembled in pain, but he managed to dodge a few, snaking through the blows to drive his elbow at Caylus' face.

The knight shifted his head slightly, and Stark's elbow flew past. Now completely open, Caylus rammed his knee into his ribs, sending him staggering back.

Hot pain seared through his chest.

A powerful chop split the air apart, descending upon his head like an executioner's blade. Stark rotated his body—darting to the side and striking with a spinning kick, sweat already soaking his shirt.

Boom!

His leg crashed into Caylus' shoulder, causing him to stumble to the side, and then he pushed the advantage, jumping to drive his knee into his face.

But what met him was a large boot to the gut that caved him in, launching him into the dirt, followed by a stomp that nearly took off his head.

Stark spat out blood.

The two fighters met once more, dancing to the crazed tune of battle with their bodies glistening with sweat.

Stark's blows were driven by his unending lust for vengeance, each strike fueled by hate, while Caylus fought for the sake of his knight's pride—a vow to a man long dead.

Yet neither refused to be moved.

So far, Stark had been doing his best to keep up with Caylus' speed and power, but he was failing miserably.

A blow that he blocked sent him flying several metres back, and a kick broke through his guard as though it was paper, bouncing against his ribs and knocking the air out of him.

With blood dripping down his lips, he charged forward once more.

As failed attacks piled up and repeated pain from multiple bruises weighed on him, Stark found himself moving better to the rhythm of the battle and understanding the way Caylus fought.

He was a proud man, and it showed in his technique.

He fought in a ruthless manner, asserting dominance over the battlefield. He did not want to be moved, he hated the thought of retreat, and would dive headfirst to showcase his sheer dominance.

Normally, those traits made one susceptible to traps, and yet Caylus could see through all his tricks.

That was what made the fight even more frustrating.

Boom!

Their fists collided, sending air rushing past them. A few minutes ago, Stark would have been knocked back, but now he changed his footing, applied more force to his legs, and redirected the force with his entire body.

Caylus seemed pleasantly surprised.

"Not bad, not bad. At least you're not all talk… shall we kick things up a notch?"

Then everything changed...