The Duel (4)

'Why is this so strong?!'

The power stunned even me, the one who had fired it. I'd assumed it would land somewhere around the level of a Fireball from a Class D mage at best — nothing more.

'This is beyond anything I imagined.'

No matter how good an A-rank skill was supposed to be, there was no way it should output power worthy of the top of Class F...

'Wait a second.'

Had I even checked my status window at any point in the last two days?

'What the hell is this?'

Opening my status window, I couldn't hide my shock. Every stat sat at 35 across the board, and even my SAN value had jumped dramatically.

'Could this be the result of the last two days?'

The food from that so-called Lesser Outer God had boosted my stats by a full 7 points. And the shake ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Cthugha had given me must have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠carried a similar effect. As for the SAN value...

'That's from seeing too many... weird things.'

Nyarlathotep kept dragging in gods of every description and driving me right to the edge of madness, over and over, until this was the result.

'So that's why she kept telling me not to worry.'

Stats made a massive leap in performance at every multiple of ten. A stat of 28 could beat a 29, but a 29 could never beat a 30. Which meant that right now, my level was...

'Bottom tier of Class A.'

Though that figure only accounted for raw specs. Factor in my overall skill set, and...

'What the hell is this?'

The upper ranks of Class A. The very bottom of Class F had clawed his way into the academy's strongest ranks in a matter of days.

I flinched.

As I stood there trembling at how much stronger I'd become, something ominous crept toward me from far across the arena. 'Sorcery.'

Chomp, chomp.

"Ptui!"

Iris chewed on something and spat it out. What landed on the ground was a piece of her own flesh.

'Her arm as a medium?'

Looking closer, her arm was ragged with bite marks. Sorcery, by its nature, drew on mana and mental force — but it could also be cast through a sacrifice as a medium. The criterion was something spiritually close to the caster. A curse invoked that way carried several times its usual power.

Whuum!

Twice the power or more. A blade of razor wind came shrieking down toward my head, and I barely managed to duck beneath it.

'Shit — what the hell was that?'

That one would have killed me on impact. My head would have come clean off in a single stroke.

—...!

The academy professor seemed to sense that something had gone wrong too, rising from her seat with a grim expression. If my HP hit zero, she could work the Miracle of Resurrection and bring me back.

'Should I let her save me?'

She'd burned through so much power recently dealing with the Cthugha situation that I honestly wasn't sure she could.

'Is she out of her mind?'

There was a reason these sparring matches came with an entourage of spectators and a professor on standby: people could die. There was no rule about wounds taken in the arena simply healing afterward. If such a technique existed, it would be deployed in real combat — nobody would waste it on a sparring match.

It was only because this was a duel between Class F and Class A — a few solid hits and the loser would go down — that the professor had gotten lazy. But the last attack had turned the whole situation on its head.

'That bitch is trying to kill me.'

A duel was a duel. Nobody used lethal ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠curses to actually kill their opponent in a simple sparring match. But that blade of wind had unmistakably been a killer technique — the kind that would have dropped me instantly if my stats were still what they'd been a few days ago.

'Then I'll have to go at her ready to kill, too.'

The professor still showed no sign of stepping in. Which meant I had no choice but to fight like my life depended on it — because it did.

Massive balls of fire bloomed to life in both of my hands.

'What is this?!'

BOOM! BOOM!

The fireballs came screaming in with the fury of something intent on burning her to ash in a single breath. All she could manage was to dodge, layering a body-reinforcement curse over herself.

'This is the bottom of Class F?'

Mages of this caliber were rare even in Class A. High-output fire magic like this — she had never seen it before!

'Hold on. He's been using nothing but fire spells this whole time.'

Could it be that fire was all he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had? 'He's closing in!' Then she would bring him down in close quarters.

Crunch!

She tore a chunk from her right forearm, and a ferocious energy surged into her hand. Enough force to shatter his skull in one blow. This ends now!

Tak!

She timed the instant his fireballs left his hands and dashed in at his flank. One punch to the head, and it was over.

FWOOSH!

"!!!"

But it never happened. Flame roared from his fist the instant she entered range — and his stance was flawless. So that fire wasn't just about the projectiles?

Sheen!

She leaped backward in one motion, a chill running down her spine as the flame skimmed past her.

More terrifying than the fire itself was that stance.

'How trained is he?'

His fundamentals were unsettlingly solid — honed to the bone. She couldn't begin to guess how much brutal, repetitive effort it must have taken to drill that form so deep into his body.

'Close range won't work. Long range won't work either.'

Dread crawled up her neck.

'What am I supposed to do?'

Her eyes trembled.

'The curse.'

Only one option remained.

Crunch!

This time she bit down on her left ring finger and tore it free. The left ring finger — the sacred spot where a wedding band is worn. With meaning like that behind the offering, it would channel the greatest power she could possibly muster right now.

"[One Strike, Ten Thousand Slaughter]."

A storm of curses erupted from her hand. A single hit would leave the victim beyond recovery. It was the strongest technique she possessed.

But—

—What is this.

FWOOOOSH!!

The curses streaking toward him burned up in a casually flicked tongue of flame.

'He... burned a curse?'

That instant, her brain simply stopped.

Overwhelming firepower she herself couldn't withstand? Fine — that was possible. Perfect flame control at both long range and close quarters? Fine. Fundamentals polished beyond what even the academy professors could manage? Fine.

But burning a curse away was an entirely different dimension altogether.

There were only two ways to deal with a curse that struck the spiritual realm: dodge it with sheer movement, or carry a spiritual artifact.

'Don't tell me that fire carries spiritual power too?'

In which case...

'The moment it touches me, it burns even my soul...?'

Her very existence would be annihilated.

THWACK!

Just as she froze solid, a dull shock cracked across her cheek. Kim Hyunseong had driven a knuckle-wrapped fist straight into her face.

Thud.

Her face, already weak against impact, folded under the heavy blow, and her body crumpled to the ground in an instant.

"The duel is over!"

At the same moment, the professor rushed in and called the match. There was nothing left to see — a flawless, complete victory for Kim Hyunseong.

'That was way too easy, though?'

However much stronger I'd gotten, winning without a single scratch on me felt a little off.

'Why?'

Startled, I pulled up the description window for Inextinguishable Flame.

Its rank had risen from A to A+. I'd been too rushed to check earlier, but the performance had improved to an absurd degree. It never went out, and it burned things that shouldn't even have a concept of burning — was this not straight-up broken? Honestly, this one skill felt like it could sweep Class A on its own.

Technically I could beat even the academy professors with Avatar of Chaos, but that wasn't exactly a skill I could use in everyday circumstances. One transformation, and soft-hearted me would be slaughtering people left and right.

'Hmm, hmm.'

Just as I was contentedly closing the status window, I noticed something strange in the text.

[By ingesting an artifact containing Cthugha's bodily fluids...]

'Hold on. What?'

Cthugha's bodily fluids?

A phrase that made me doubt my own eyes. When exactly had I consumed Cthugha's bodily flu—...oh.

'Don't tell me the thing I eat every day is...'

"Cthugha. It's not, is it?"

"..."

Fuck.

"HUUUURGH!"

A wave of vomit surged up my throat, and I gagged violently. What fluid did she put in it? Sweat? Spit? Urine? Pretty as Cthugha might be, I did not have those kinds of tastes.

"Damn it, what the hell did you put in there?! Sweat? Spit?"

I couldn't exactly vomit on the arena floor, so I held it down — but the more I tried to deduce the true nature of this "fluid," the harder the nausea came rolling in.

"Excuse me... would you care to leave the arena?"

While I stood there agonizing with the most serious expression on my face, the professor spoke to me, looking rather baffled.

"...Understood, ma'am."

What I'd just done was pure, unadulterated teabagging.

I stole a glance at the crowd. The breakdown of the stares fixed on me: fifty percent shock, forty percent disbelief, nine percent disgust.

The remaining one percent...

"WOOOOOAAAAAH!!!!!!"

was Gu Haseong, alone, screaming cheers at the top of his lungs.

"..."

Despite winning, I felt like I'd lost. I beat a hasty retreat from the arena.

Cthugha, you're dead, you little bastard.