The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Deep within the dense jungle, where towering trees enveloped the surroundings, a mesmerizing sight unfolded. Two individuals stood locked in a gaze, their eyes penetrating the lush foliage that enveloped them. The first was Gibson, a stout figure with a cascade of light-brown hair, his intense stare fixed upon his opponent.

Clark, on the other hand, possessed a well-toned physique and striking green eyes that shimmered with determination. They stood amidst a tangle of wild vegetation, their duel shrouded in an eerie atmosphere.

As the tension mounted, Gibson, his eyes ablaze with fury, unleashed a flurry of spells upon Clark without a moment's hesitation. The air reverberated with the clatter of rocks tumbling, a percussive symphony accompanying his movements. Mystical energies surged through Gibson's body, transforming his feet into massive mounds of hardened earth, twice their normal size.

With swift agility that defied his appearance, his colossal feet seemed to possess a life of their own, soaring through the air and generating seismic waves, aimed squarely at Clark.

Yet, Clark stood his ground, defiant and resolute. He vehemently denied Gibson's accusation, his voice echoing from the depths of his lungs, while his lips whispered incantations, channeling his inner power. He conjured an army of newly sprouted roots that effortlessly thwarted each of Gibson's relentless attacks. Shielded by the living barricade of rapidly growing roots, Clark remained steadfast.

"Foul-mouthed fool! I haven't taken anything!" Clark retorted, his voice laced with frustration. Despite the chaos that ensued, he maintained his unwavering focus, continuously murmuring incantations that harnessed the very essence of nature itself.

In a fit of rage at witnessing his assaults being thwarted by mere arboreal defenses, Gibson charged forward, his hands pulsating with surging energy. He was determined to search Clark's pockets, believing him to be a thief.

A resounding bang filled the air as Gibson's mouth muttered forbidden words, transforming the gathered energy into a colossal hand made of earth, enveloping and shielding his palms.

Unyielding, Clark shook his head in defiance, his gaze hardening with resolve. A surge of power surged through his being, drawn into him with an almost magnetic force. In an instant, Gibson's expression morphed from anger to fear, but it was too late. Clark channeled the energy, his hand charged with potent winds that propelled his body forward.

Swift as an arrow, Clark soared through the air, his intentions clear. With a resounding swoosh, he bellowed, "Fortitude Counterattack!" The entire might of his right hand amassed an overwhelming amount of energy, momentarily blinding any onlookers. As the radiance dissipated, a hand surfaced, encased in a sheath of wooden armor, its appearance reminiscent of a finely crafted katana.

In a thunderous boom, Clark swung the wooden katana, its incredible sharpness evident as it etched a small crater into the earth. Nature itself seemed to revel in Clark's triumph, for Gibson, his previous speed limited to mere minutes, found himself propelled forward by a ticklish sensation caused by the enchanted roots.

Cursing inwardly, Gibson's mumbled words carried even as he gulped down air, frantically searching for a way to overcome his opponent. Yet, his dismay transformed into delight as he beheld Clark standing motionless, his body positioned in an enigmatic stance, clutching the enigmatic sword. Elation ignited within Gibson as energy coursed through his massive hand, exclaiming, "Golems!"

In response to his command, a torrent of energy surged forth, planting itself into the ground ahead. The earth quivered beneath the weight of the summoned power, and one by one, towering shadows rose, emerging from the ground.

Upon closer inspection, these shadows unveiled themselves as meticulously crafted earth golems, each standing tall, forming a formidable barrier that obstructed Clark's view of Gibson.

Amidst the chaos, Clark found himself bewildered by the sudden activation of his spell, leaving him rooted in place with a swordsman's stance, the katana firmly gripped in one hand, while the other remained spread wide, poised to seize Gibson's neck.

The earth-shattering clashes reverberated through the jungle, accompanied by deafening booms that startled birds into flight, their wings beating hurriedly against the air. Sunlight streamed through the falling leaves, casting fleeting glimpses of their fierce confrontation. The ground beneath them trembled, adding an unsettling layer to their clash.

Though hindered by the earth dolls blocking his path, Gibson's robust frame collided with them, shattering the constructs into a myriad of debris that scattered through the air, even grazing Clark's arms with a fragment. Unaware of the danger, Clark remained focused, his attention captivated by the bruises that adorned Gibson's visage.

"Hah! Come forth!" Clark's posture grew resolute, his grip on the katana tightening. His eyes blazed with solemnity as he bellowed his challenge, undeterred by the impending crash and the debris that veered perilously close to his face. As Gibson's colossal hand loomed over him, the katana in Clark's grasp absorbed the gathering power.

"Mugen!" he cried out.

A thunderous crash followed, enveloping the scene in a temporary shroud of silence. The aftermath of their clash remained a mystery, obscured by the weight of suspense.

In another corner of the jungle, a young man with blond hair stood amidst a rocky landscape, his clothes singed and tattered. Sharp, determined eyes surveyed his surroundings as he wielded two handleless metal daggers. "I must admit, your hidden power has caught me off guard," he remarked, his voice tinged with surprise.

"I recall you losing to that portly fellow," the blond man spoke reproachfully, a broad smile playing upon his lips. However, his reflexes kicked in, prompting him to swiftly dodge and leap to the side.

A blur of motion followed as a chilling, feminine voice resonated along the blond man's line of sight. "As the son of the esteemed Master Wizard, Matson, your weakness disappoints me," she taunted. In the spot he previously occupied, a raging white fire consumed the rocks, reducing them to ashes. The flames persisted, scorching the surrounding meadow and leaving a seared mark upon the ground.

Matson, grounded by the voice, felt a chill creep into his indifferent gaze, swiftly propelling his body forward while simultaneously launching his short daggers toward the figure's shadow.

Swoosh, swoosh—the daggers sliced through the air, finding their mark, but upon contact, the metallic blades gradually liquefied, transforming into a pool of molten metal that dissipated into white energy spheres.

"Your magic pales in comparison to his," the girl scoffed coldly, emerging from the shadowy embrace of a nearby tree. A headband adorned her head, securing her long red hair, which fluttered gracefully in the wind. Her crossed arms accentuated her valkyrie-like armor, intricately designed for a woman, with a faint greatsword fastened to her back.

"Are you truly the one who defeated Clark?" she questioned with a sarcastic edge, piercing Matson's heart. Her aura radiated a sense of holiness, yet unlike Elizabeth's serene presence, her energy brimmed with violence and aggression.

Matson's smirk widened as his body surged forward, his weaponless approach revealing his confidence. In an instant, the liquefied metal on the ground transformed, giving rise to a dagger adorned with chains, descending from above with precise aim, fixated on the center of the girl's head.

Unbeknownst to both combatants, a lurking figure observed their fierce clash from the tree's lofty canopy. Desmond recognized this individual, a grim realization washing over him as he recalled freezing her in place with his chilling powers.

"What's the point of engaging in this futile battle when our objectives have already been stolen by that malevolent man?" The black-haired girl gritted her teeth, her anger palpable as she reminisced about Desmond's calm and detached gaze.