Chapter 184: A Man's Fight - 4
Chapter 184: A Man's Fight - 4
When Jiha raised his swords and charged back, a flicker of surprise crossed Lungtao's face.
It passed in an instant. A satisfied grin spread across his face as he balled his fist, ready for the decisive clash.
One exchange to settle it all.
Which blade would carry the Wind Blade—the shortsword or the gladius? The dilemma lasted only a heartbeat before Jiha's reflexes made the choice.
'This one!'
A man's roar intertwined with a tiger's howl as their bodies crashed together.
Thud! Crack!! Shhluck!
Bone snapped, flesh split, and Jiha was hurled backward, bouncing off the dirt.
He'd just collided head-on with a charging truck. There was no scenario where he walked away unscathed.
"Ah...!"
"No!"
Amid the crowd's groans, Leticia shot up from her seat. Her face went pale. She stood frozen for a moment, then made a frantic move to rush down to the arena floor.
Enril, still seated beside her, grabbed her arm and forced her back down.
"Stay still."
"Let go! He'll die at this rate!"
"It's not over yet."
Leticia caught the faint tremor at the corner of Enril's eyes, and even through her alarm, bewilderment cut through. This arrogant dark elf was so shaken that emotion was bleeding onto her face.
Leticia looked back toward the arena.
Jiha was down on the ground, dragging in ragged breaths. Lungtao stood silently, unmoving.
Splat.
A grisly sound, then a chunk of flesh hit the dirt.
Lungtao's left arm, severed below the elbow, lay in the dust.
Jiha's strike had carved from Lungtao's right shoulder across to his left flank—and taken the arm as well. Blood streamed freely from the Tiger Beastman's chest and stomach, a deep gash so severe that one wrong move might spill his insides onto the ground.
It was a wound that would have sent a normal man into shock and unconsciousness long ago. Yet Lungtao still stood silently.
"Grrrgh..."
Jiha rose to his feet with a groan.
His clothes were shredded rags. An ugly purple bruise covered his side. From the outside he looked mostly intact, but his ribs were utterly wrecked. Even breathing was agony.
"Ah..."
"Waaaaaah!!!"
When the crowd saw both men still standing, a roar of shocked admiration erupted. Tens of thousands of spectators felt it in their chests—the sheer, stubborn pride of two men refusing to lose.
"Ah! Both fighters! Do they still mean to continue!? In all the history of the Summoning War, I have never witnessed a bloodbath this fierce! Neither man has any intention of surrendering! They are absolutely set on not giving a single step!!"
Ruby's passionate commentary rang out, and Jiha allowed himself a faint smirk.
The gladius in his left hand was still serviceable. But the sword in his right was thoroughly cracked, snapped in half. The Grade 3 blade Uben had secretly secured for him—they'd been through plenty of scraps together, and he'd grown somewhat attached to it. Its time had simply run out.
Jiha glanced down at the broken sword, then lifted his gaze forward.
Lungtao, arm severed and a terrible sword wound carved across his torso, was staring back at him in silence. Tiger Beastman or not, those were devastating injuries. He couldn't fight any further.
'...The same goes for me.'
Jiha's ribs were broken, every breath a torment. Lungtao's fist, packed with Mana, had slammed into his body and shredded his insides. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground.
'My insides are completely... wrecked.'
A Tiger Beastman's raw strength combined with Mana was genuinely lethal. Without his Mana defense, Jiha would be dead already. Even so, the only reason he was still breathing was that Lungtao had launched the attack after taking the critical wound, when his power was already waning.
The two men simply stood there, gasping for air, staring at each other.
Who would move first? Who would attack again? The crowd cheered them on with wild abandon.
"Lungtao! Go! Win this!!"
"Jiha, don't you dare lose! Show us that fighting spirit!!"
Good and evil no longer mattered. The spectators were utterly enthralled by the fighting spirit on display, screaming themselves hoarse.
One of the gasping men shifted a foot forward.
It was Jiha.
"Ah! He's moving! Jiha! He's moving!"
One step forward on nothing but stubborn will. With every step, a jolt of piercing pain shot up from his toes straight into his skull.
His heart pounded so violently that each step felt like it was shaving seconds off his lifespan.
Still, he didn't stop.
Head raised. Cheers washing over him. Jeers washing over him.
One step.
Another step.
Driven by pure pride—the need to carry himself with confidence until the very end—Jiha forced his body forward.
After he'd taken four steps, Lungtao gave a long sigh.
"What was the reason?"
He was asking about that final exchange of blows.
"Why the shortsword?"
"Because you..."
Jiha answered with effort, forcing the words out. His chest throbbed with a dull, crushing ache each time he spoke. Sirel was probably stamping her feet, demanding to be let in. But that wouldn't happen.
The fight wasn't over yet. Medical staff could only enter once a clear winner had been determined.
Jiha came to a stop three paces from Lungtao and explained.
"At the very last instant, your kind trusts the weapon."
"..."
Those who had grown strong on Dirga weapons inevitably grew dependent on them. Even Lungtao was no exception. No—saying a man of Lungtao's caliber was "dependent" didn't fit.
But in the decisive moment, he had assumed his opponent would attack with the superior weapon. Faced with a Grade 1 sword and a Grade 3 sword, which would you stake your life on? In that split-second, he'd decided it would be the Grade 1.
So Jiha had activated the gladius's Special Ability and adjusted its blade length to deflect Lungtao's sword at an angle. Then he'd poured his Mana and the Wind Blade into the Grade 3 sword instead.
"You trusted the weapon just a little bit more. It's because all your combat experience taught you to."
"..."
Lungtao knew how to wield Mana, but that was a secret among secrets. And if he could only sustain it for five minutes, he would have been cautious. In the end, his primary combat experience relied on weapons and brute strength—and Jiha had gambled that this was exactly the case.
At the point of impact, Jiha had exploited that opening.
"I see. So that's how it was."
Lungtao exhaled heavily and nodded. Jiha steadied his breathing and narrowed his eyes.
"Well, now..."
"Don't lose, Lungtao!!!"
The moment he tried to speak, a ragged scream shattered the air.
Jiha and Lungtao both turned with difficulty. Narsha was on her feet in the stands, face gone chalk-white, eyes trembling with shock, lips quivering. It was the face of someone who had just witnessed something that absolutely should not have happened.
"Don't you lose!! Who gave you permission to throw the fight! You—you are not allowed to lose! You promised me! You promised!!"
"..."
"You said you'd always win for me!! You said you'd always be there for me!! You can't lose!! Absolutely not!!"
Narsha screamed herself hoarse, and Lungtao gazed at her with a warmth that cut through the chaos.
The look that passed between them. Narsha's brimming eyes. In that moment, Jiha understood.
It wasn't one-sided devotion from Lungtao. Narsha held him as someone special too.
Not as a man. Not as romantic interest. He was the one who had stood by her, guarded her, looked after her ever since she was a child. The way she looked at him now was...
"I'm sorry, Narsha."
She was too far away to hear it. Lungtao said it quietly nonetheless.
Just as Narsha froze in place, Lungtao extended his hand forward. He grasped Jiha's wrist and lifted it high into the air. A clear signal to everyone of who the victor was.
"The win is yours, Jiha!"
He proclaimed before the entire crowd that this was the man who had surpassed him. Then Lungtao lowered his head.
The last thread of consciousness he'd been clinging to had finally snapped.
Lungtao passed out on his feet, and Jiha's fist rose into the air, pulled along by the Tiger Beastman's grip. Jiha steadied his breathing. Tens of thousands of eyes watched him, burning with fervor.
The rabbit beastman emcee, Ruby, shouted at the top of her lungs.
"The winner is Jiha!!!"
"Waaaaaah!!"
An explosive roar of cheers washed over the arena. At the same moment, the strength drained from Jiha's body. Pain, as if his entire body were splitting apart, crashed over him. His breathing grew ragged.
But he'd won. Won after a death struggle.
Jiha squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest, and closed his eyes. He fought down the overwhelming urge to collapse unconscious, straining to stay on his feet until the very end. Then a chill rushed in from behind him.
He turned his head with effort. Sirel stood there, her face tight with urgency.
"Don't speak. It's dangerous if you speak."
"...Appreciate it."
"I said don't speak, you idiot!"
Sirel poured every ounce of Mana she had into him, sweat beading on her forehead. Jiha might have looked fairly intact on the outside, but his injuries were catastrophic. Broken ribs. Shattered internal organs. Mana reserves completely empty. He was practically half-dead—if Sirel had reached him just a few seconds later, it might have been too late.
"Whew..."
As his body began to settle under her care, Jiha looked forward. Lungtao, still unconscious, was being treated by another healer. His arm was gone, but regenerative treatment would eventually fix it.
'I've heard regenerative treatment is expensive and takes forever... but he's worth it.'
A man of Lungtao's caliber needed to be put to proper use. After all the trouble it took to get him.
"Huff..."
Jiha was gathering himself when Leticia came flying down from the VIP seats, swift as a dart. Her dress seemed to be getting in the way—she had torn the skirt to free her legs. She sprinted down with no thought for appearances and threw herself into Jiha's arms.
"Ah..."
"Ah, and so it comes to this! This is what we get!"
At the fresh spectacle, Ruby's voice pitched even higher. Leticia, who had run down without a single glance at anyone around her, wrapped her arms around Jiha and exhaled.
"Are you okay? You're not dead, right?"
"Yeah..."
Still receiving Sirel's emergency treatment, Jiha wrapped his arms around Leticia in return. The unexpected sight stirred brief confusion among the spectators who had come to watch the vicious kidnapper Jiha get crushed—but the applause that followed rang just as loudly. They were conceding they'd gotten some things wrong and welcoming what was unfolding right before their eyes.
Jiha was a human. A Common. None of that mattered anymore. He'd fought a spectacular battle and won outright. Every spectator in that arena now had it seared into their minds: this was a man who had earned it.
"...Excuse me, Lady Leticia. You're interfering with the treatment."
Sirel's voice came out sharp and annoyed. Startled, Leticia pulled back. Sirel, having dumped every last drop of Mana into him in one go, sighed heavily and withdrew her hands.
"Emergency treatment's done for now. Full treatment starts in one hour. I've stopped the critical organ damage, but absolutely do not overexert yourself. No fighting, under any circumstances. Have another healer check you—"
"No. Send them to Lungtao."
Jiha refused further attention from another healer and redirected the resources. His own injuries were severe, but Lungtao's blood loss was worse. Losing an arm often resulted in fatal shock; the fact that Lungtao was still alive at all was a testament to his stubbornness.
Lungtao, too, seemed to have regained consciousness. His eyes were open, fixed on Jiha. Jiha walked over alone and extended his hand. Lungtao smiled wordlessly and reached to take it.
Shunk!
"..."
Jiha's face went rigid. Something had burst through Lungtao's stomach.
A dark, blue-black mass had impaled the healer tending to Lungtao's back—and pierced straight through Lungtao's abdomen as well.
"What—"
Lungtao followed Jiha's gaze downward at his own belly. The black shadow wrenched itself free from his body. Blood erupted from Lungtao's mouth as he collapsed to his knees.
"What the—!?"
"What is that!?"
The crowd reeled in confusion. Jiha locked his stare forward.
A man-sized shape loomed there, formed of dark blue-black energy. Where it had come from, what it was—questions for later.
"Leticia! Grab Sirel and get out of here, now!"
"You..."
"I'll handle this, so move!"
Leticia reacted on reflex to the force in his voice, scooping Sirel into her arms and breaking into a blind sprint.
Jiha glared at the figure before him. Humanoid in size; it had limbs, but no face—nothing but a seething mass of dark blue energy coalesced into a body. Yet the blood dripping from its arm was unmistakable. This thing had just run Lungtao through.
"You little bastard..."
His Mana was spent. His body was barely holding together after the death match he'd just endured.
But dodging this wasn't an option.
The man who had staked his life against him lay collapsed at his feet. The result was obvious if Jiha stepped aside now.
Jiha clenched his fist.
Then he had to fight.