In terms of the swordsman rankings, the “Hero” rank was something in an entirely different realm; for each style, there could only be one hero-rank swordsman.
That meant the man standing before him was a living legend–practically a god himself of the blade.
Though he knew of the sigil, he hardly knew anything about the Two-Faced God itself. There were many thoughts flooding through his mind–though most, if not all were scrambled and discombobulated as he was left swallowed in fear.
He was still in shock from witnessing the man be chopped up, but worse was the realization of just how powerful the one in front of him was.
“You may call me Siegmare, child. By crossing my path, your thread of fate has been woven around the Two-Faced God’s finger,” the man said.
Between the bony, black-and-white fingers of his free hand, Siegmare caressed the two-sided coin, which had a white side and a black.
“Call it: white or black? If the side you choose lands, you shall walk away on this day. However…should the coin fall to the other side–your life is deemed to end on this day,” Siegmare explained, “…What will it be, child?”
It was true fear that flowed through his veins–slugging through like ice as he stood there, breathing heavily and unable to answer.
The fog smelled of death; there was an aura that naturally gave off from the mysterious, painted man–one that stifled any courage and only stoked the anxiety within him further.
“…He’s dead…?” He mumbled in disbelief..
BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP.
Though fear traversed his veins, there was something else beginning to awaken inside of him. A presence that warmed the blood in his body that ran cold–heating it up more and more as his heart continued beating like a drum.
BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP.
Siegmare looked down at him with his two different colored eyes, “Choose a side, child. If you do not, I will choose for you.”
Inside of his chest, his heart thumped wildly, beginning to pump through his veins a fearsome blood; one that boiled with rage and the essence of destruction.
It happened again–just like the time with Julius against the ogre.
His mind went blank, his ears rang and his veins turned black, pressing against his skin as his pupils shifted into vertical slits.
Worse than the anger he felt at his companion’s death, it was the shock and fear that overwhelmed his body; the swallowing dread pressed him into a corner, triggering his adrenaline, and thus, beginning the “Dragon Flow” once more.
[Dragonheart System Activated.]
[Expanding Physical Capabilities.]
[Current Stage: Dragon Son | 2/10]
“…It seems I’ve angered you,” Siegmare said calmly, observing him closely.
BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP.
From his hand, the grip of his staff released. For just a moment, the eyes of the black-and-white faced swordsman locked onto the falling object.
Before the catalyst reached the ground–
“–!” Siegmare looked up.
The fist of the boy uppercutted the hero-rank swordsman with both devastating speed and power, causing the man to be launched upward several meters.
In the air, Siegmare stared blankly, briefly rubbing his chin, “I see. This child possesses a unique ability. Impressive.”
Utilizing that same flashy speed, the young boy met with Siegmare in the air, having jumped up and reared his fist back again for another punch.
In this state, his mind was blank; it was as if he was running on pure instinct–operating with the sole purpose of destroying the obstacle in front of him.
As he threw his fist forward–it was caught.
“–“
Even in his primal state with his dragon blood running through his veins, he was shocked. The power in his fists was that of a beast, but the man, who wasn’t particularly muscular, stopped it completely without much effort.
Siegmare looked at him, “…A child is just a child.”
Before he could spin around and counter with a savage kick, his entire body was flung by an inhumanly strong force, being ragdolled as Siegmare tossed him to the ground harshly.
The force of the throw placed a crater in the forest clearing, taking the breath from his lungs.
BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP.
He picked himself up, thoughtless and filled with destructive intent; the black veins he possessed pressed against his pale skin as his fingernails turned to sharp claws.
“Destroy.”
–If there was one thought in his mind, it was simply that.
Just as Siegmare landed on the soil, sheathing his onyx blade into its sheath, he spun around and swept his hand, unleashing a wave of azure flames that traveled towards the Two-Faced God swordsman.
With little effort, Siegmare quickly drew the quartz, all-white blade that was at his left hip, swinging it towards the air.
FWOOOSH.
It was as if a high-class wind spell had been unleashed, but it was nothing more than the sheer strength the man possessed; with a single swipe of his blade, the hero-rank swordsman unleashed a burst of wind pressure that repelled the blue flames.
“–” He looked forward with those wide, beastial eyes of his.
Siegmare still held that unmoving, stoic expression on his peculiar face, “Child, you’re testing my patience. I’ve not yet deemed your life forfeit, so why is it that you attack? Curious.”
He rushed forward, kicking off with such strength that he spurred up a cloud of soil that mixed with the fog, moving at such speeds that were untraceable to the untrained eye, but he could see it–Siegmare’s gaze followed him perfectly.
Still, he unleashed a wild flurry of attacks, using his sharp nails and amplified strength as he carved through the fog with punches, kicks, and even headbuts, fully embracing his savage dragonhood.
None of these attacks landed; they weren’t even remotely close to doing so. Siegmare moved casually, but methodically, using footwork that was impossible to predict for his savage eyes as it seemed he could only assault the fog, but not the swordsman.
“I’ve never met a boy of your age with such strength. However, strength without training is nothing more than a hindrance,” Siegmare told him.
Countering his assault, Siegmare struck him in the chest with a palm strike, unleashing an ear-filling shock wave that knocked him back harshly, sending him flying back and crashing into a tree.
It wasn’t just masterful skill that the hero-rank swordsman possessed, but his physical might was like a mountain; it was simply insurmountable, seeming so even in his Dragon Flow.
Though he had crashed harshly, leaving cracks along the thick base of the tree, he instantly jumped to his feet with the tenacity of a dragon.
Without any response or hesitation, he reared his left hand back again, summoning a massive gathering of blue flames above his palm.
This coalescence of flames burned brightly, swirling and releasing heat waves around the boy as he intended to unleash utmost destruction upon the man.
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