Chapter Ten – Storm Within the Flesh
The afternoon sun, tinged with a mustard hue, streamed through the gaps of the metallic dome, spilling across the arena floor like molten copper, casting fractured, elongated shadows. Eyas heard nothing but the echo of Saman's footsteps reverberating in the battleground, until the air suddenly trembled with an explosion of aura unlike anything he had ever felt before.
The atmosphere thickened around Saman's body, rising and falling, carrying a whirlwind of green and red flames. Sparks danced like a hellish ballet, dust rained from the ceiling, and the arena floor shuddered beneath the surge of energy. The firelight burned in Saman's eyes, his hair whipping violently as though a storm centuries old had erupted inside him. Slowly, he raised his right hand. For a brief moment, silence pressed down on the world—then his hoarse yet confident voice cut through it:
"Eyas… this is Spirit Fusion: Fire and Wind! My body is lighter, faster, hotter. Two spirits bent to my will. Prepare yourself… you are no longer my equal."
Eyas's pupils shrank, the air tightening around him like a suffocating membrane. Yet instead of retreating, a smile curved across his lips—strained, manic, but brimming with a strange confidence.
He whispered, almost to himself: "Perfect… my turn."
He crouched low, chest nearly touching the ground, his feet driving into the arena floor until it trembled, as though every muscle in his body had gathered at a single point ready to explode. His frame shook—not from fear, but from energy straining at its limits, a reckless urge to break through. For an instant his tendons seemed on the verge of snapping—then his will clenched them tighter.
"Charge… charge… my instincts scream: this is my chance!"
Calling upon his ability, Super Intelligence – Cellular Control, he forced his cells to their absolute peak, stretching human limits. His inner voice burst outward in sharp mockery:
"Saman… you are no match for me in the realm of Super Intelligence. Do you realize how terrifying it is for a man to command every cell of his body?"
And then—he vanished.
All Saman saw was a ripple in the air before Eyas appeared, face-to-face, whispering with a harsh, merciless calm:
"But sadly… you still rely on magic more than your own strength."
Shock froze Saman's response. Before he could react, Eyas disappeared again, reappearing like a bolt ripping the silence. The air surged and fell, then his voice rang out—
"Here!"
A lightning-fast kick shot toward Saman's chest. He barely managed to raise an arm in defense—only for Eyas to vanish again.
Saman snarled with bitter defiance, spinning around: "Do you think you're a ghost?! Show me you're not just a bookworm!"
But Eyas had built his own battlefield. Invisible platforms—constructed by his mental power—formed beneath his steps. He danced across them as though climbing a staircase no one else could see. At an impossible angle, he leapt, blue psychic energy blazing, molding a sphere of compressed force in his palm. The sphere unfurled into a massive dome that swallowed the arena. Then he lunged at Saman, winds stirring into streams that suddenly surged across the battlefield. Nothing was random—every move was calculated, layered like chains of intellect.
Through clenched teeth, Saman muttered as the storm coiled upward: "He forged a cyclone inside the dome? Genius…" Then he roared, "Brilliant, Eyas!"
But the cyclone was no mere storm—it was a cage of death. The arena became a sealed, shrinking dome, pressure mounting with every heartbeat. The air tightened, the spiral condensed, until it became a knot of pure destruction. At the final moment, Eyas flung himself clear, leaving the storm to suffocate within itself—until it burst apart.
BOOOOM!
The arena convulsed, its northern corner ripped apart, while dust cloaked everything in a choking shroud.
Eyas dropped to his knees, panting, his body trembling, shield flickering over his skin.
⚠ Shield: 30%
The blast had shredded most of his durability.
Through ragged breaths, he whispered, bitter mockery bleeding through exhaustion: "S-so… tell me. Do you still think this is a bookworm's trick?"
But as the smoke cleared, Saman's silhouette stood tall amidst the wreckage. His shield still pulsed, barely diminished.
⚠ Shield: 72%
A sly smile tugged at his lips as he laughed: "You conjure a cyclone… and I breathe it in. Did you forget? The spirit of wind resides in me." Then, with mocking admiration, he added: "I'll call you… butterfly. You've grown, Eyas."
Despite the pain, Eyas smirked, eyes gleaming with renewed fire, drawing on the scraps of his strength.
But Saman granted no reprieve. His body detonated in another eruption—fire and wind entwined into a blazing tempest. The ground fractured under his steps. Eyas summoned what remained of his psychic force, five translucent shields orbiting him like satellites. Yet deep down, he knew Saman's storm was far too great.
Saman soared with lethal grace, weaving left and right, trails of red and green streaking the air like falling stars. Gathering his aura into a colossal fiery vortex, he roared: "Taste your own weapon!"
The vortex slammed down, crushing Eyas's defenses layer by layer:
⚠ Shield: 25%
⚠ Shield: 14%
⚠ Shield: 5%
Silence clung for an instant—then Saman's fist, blazing with compressed flame, smashed forward.
BOOOOM!
The strike pierced Eyas's abdomen, his shield shattering.
⚠ Shield: 0%
The system's cold voice declared: "Winner: Saman. Congratulations."
Saman strode closer, laughter booming: "You've leveled up, bookworm."
Eyas lifted his head with effort, propping himself on his palms, smirking in defiant sarcasm: "And you… outshine me in arrogance. I can't compete with you there."
Saman sneered: "Is it that hard to admit defeat?"
Eyas retorted coolly: "And do you truly believe this was a fair fight? You've conquered the seventh floor… while I've only cleared the first."
Saman barked a laugh: "Even then, I wasn't fighting seriously."
Eyas exhaled sharply, swallowing his frustration. But the system interrupted:
> Ding… Ding…
Saman: +25 Strength Points.
Ding… Ding…
Eyas: +5 Strength Points.
Penalty: Triple daily missions for three days.
Saman smirked, raising his hand theatrically: "I won't claim my wager's prize… not yet. I'll borrow it later. Farewell… oh champion of exhaustion!"
He left with laughter trailing behind, as the system announced: "Arena restoration in progress—nanocells deployed."
Dragging himself from the dome, Eyas staggered through the alleyways, the twilight sky bleeding into purple. His steps were heavy, breath ragged—until suddenly, a crimson screen flickered before him.
Analyzing…
He froze, staring at it, voice hoarse: "What… again?"
And thus, the night curtain fell upon the chapter.
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