It's not often the Beast Lord Razor would face someone in a duel. In fact, all he does is sit around and order his soldiers, never participating in war himself unless his soldiers are useless. It's been a few years since he's been on the battlefield but he's been sparring with his tribemates a lot so that he doesn't get rusty.
Then again, all he really needs in a fight are his armor and claws—not cheap tricks and techniques that are only meant for showing off.
The two gathered in an open area which was once the center of this ruined village turned outpost.
The whole army was focused on the fight, naturally as it's rare for the leader to be this interested in another warrior.
The Beast Lord's human pets watched the scene in a daze, the light still gone from their eyes but a hope burning within their hearts—
The hope that this normal-looking boy could kill the monster that imprisoned them here.
Adavire was amongst them. In fact, she recognized the boy.
It was Arnold von Berkley (but since he was disowned this may not be his surname anymore), considered one of the strongest knight students at the academy. He was one of the youngest of this generation of students to have received a 6-stars ranking by the Knight Orders and Empire.
Tears streamed down her face as she was unable to verbally call out to him without a tongue and all the commotion the demihumans were causing—making animalistic sounds and kicking the ground with their feet.
As if feeling sorry for her, the other girls gently rubbed her shoulders, the only comfort they could give as their tongues were also ripped out.
'Please… notice me… Arnold…' she begged inwardly.
The boy who looked down on her.
The boy who challenged her beliefs.
The boy who the entire academy considered to be her rival but who she thought she was superior to in every way.
She was begging for that same boy to save her…
Looking at his disinterested and cold expression always bugged her, as if he viewed everyone as inferior. But the fact that he could do that in this situation—with a demihuman who is said to be stronger than his father or the other Great Nobles—filled Adavire with relief.
She didn't know how but he seemed to be the strongest of the two.
"—Just so you know, I didn't come all the way out here to be someone's training buddy."
"Pfft, the look in your eyes say you want to kill me, boy." Razor casually held on cleaver on his shoulder.
"When it's a duel meant to take each other's lives, I take it seriously."
The obnoxious noises stopped, leaving behind an awkward silence.
Razor's gulp echoed throughout the silence, which he quickly covered up with a cough, "That is the spirit of a true warrior. Your master taught you well kahahaha!"
"…" the man silently took off his coat and gave it to his female companion.
"What weapon will you use?"
"None. Come at me."
"What did you say?"
Did he hear that right?
Did this man just say he wouldn't use a weapon?
This was pure arrogance. Was Razor mistaken and this boy was just a weakling with no ability to fight whatsoever?
"Gahahaha! It's your funeral, boy!" Razor shot out like a meteor and swung his heavy blade. There was at least ten thousand pounds of force behind his blow which could shatter concrete and rocks easily.
However, what Razor felt wasn't chunks of meat or bone being crushed—it was the hardest solid surface he had ever struck in his life.
There wasn't even a sound from his blade connecting with the man. It was like punching a pillow, a hard pillow.
But what Razor saw left him speechless—he had caught Razor's cleaver with his thumb and index finger as if it were a piece of paper.
There was a transparent white energy around his fingers and no matter how much strength Razor used to pull his weapon out, it just wouldn't budge.
"Oraaaah!" he swung down his second blade but this one was caught as well. He gritted his teeth, then smirked, as there was another weapon in his possession.
His neck elongated like a swan's, opening his mouth… then he chomped down on the boy's head. It all happened in an instant and he thought that the boy couldn't escape in time, which is why the hit landed.
However…
The Beast Lord's jaws remained clamped around Arnold's head for a heartbeat too long.
Not because he intended to hold the bite—but because he couldn't understand why it wasn't working.
The pressure was there. He could feel his own strength, the force that had crushed skulls and snapped armored necks, driving down with everything he had. And yet, there was no give. No crack. No resistance that could be overcome.
It was like trying to bite into the concept of something solid rather than the thing itself.
Slowly, almost lazily, Arnold raised a hand.
His fingers closed around the Beast Lord's upper jaw.
There was no strain in his arm, no tightening of muscle or shift in stance. It was the same motion one would use to peel something irritating away from their person. With a slight twist, he pried the jaws open.
A wet, cracking sound followed.
Razor stumbled back, his elongated neck snapping back into place as he recoiled, one hand flying to his mouth. For the first time since he had taken the throne, there was something unfamiliar in his expression.
Confusion.
"…What… are you?"
Arnold didn't answer. He glanced down at his sleeve where a faint smear of saliva marked the fabric, his expression tightening just slightly in annoyance. Then he unsheathed his sword, his gaze settling on Razor in a way that made the surrounding noise begin to die down.
"D-Didn't he say he wouldn't use a weapon!?"
"Y-Yeah, what a c-coward!" the peanut gallery commented.
This made the boy chuckle, "I don't enjoy wasting my internal energy on a pointless fight like this. Especially when I don't have a way to recover it yet. I thought using it a little bit will be enough for your Alpha to gauge the level between us."
He pointed his sword at Razor.
"Let's fight with only our weapons. No gimmicks or energy."
It wasn't killing intent or arrogance.
It was worse.
Disinterest—as if he's in a fight he wanted to get over with after having his fun.
Razor felt a hole at the pit of his stomach. What will his soldiers think of him if he's so easily defeated when he's been reigning as a powerful Beast Lord among the nomad clans and tribes for decades, to the point where even the other lords respected his strength?
He gritted his teeth.
His deduction of this man's strength was wrong all along. This is what happens when you underestimate and belittle humans for too long. A chaos among men just shows up on his doorstep one day, merely to speak and yet he treats the boy as any other human.
"…I admit defeat." Razor dropped his arms just before the man could get into a stance with his sword.
For the first time ever, his expression shifted slightly, showing his surprise.
"M-My lord!?"
"Did he just…"
"Is this the first time he's admitted… defeat to an enemy?"
"Y-Yeah, that's surprising… Normally he doesn't even stand down against monster lords…"
That's exactly why they still followed him despite his many losses against foes more powerful than himself—like that one Orc Lord that terrorized their lands a decade ago. They may be called simple beasts for simply following the stronger individual—some even left the tribe for this reason—but they also respected Razor for his unwavering will that wouldn't back down from even a stronger foe. He demonstrated both his might and will through bloody fights, which is why so many still follow him on his path of blood, conquest and destruction.
However, today he had admitted defeat before such a spectacular fight could even take place.
Razor knew that he would lose most of his forces today, the entire 600-strong demihuman army, if he let it end like this.
"…However, I would like to see your full power. All you have been doing is defending yourself…"
He asked, not just because he's curious but to show his warriors that this fight was never fair to begin with.
The man tilted his head then chuckled softly, "If I did that, this entire region would be decimated."
…
No one believed otherwise. Rather, they were waiting for him to prove his words right.
"But I can show you ten percent of my strength." He turned to the side, looking for someone—no, he was looking towards the gate of this fortress or maybe further beyond?
There was nothing in that direction except empty forest.
A white radiance began to gather around his entire being, producing an incredibly denser pressure that made the air several times heavier, the energy flaring violently.
What little wind moved through the camp stilled, as if it had been pressed flat by an unseen force. The ground beneath their feet let out a low groan, subtle at first, pebbles rattling and dust lifting in thin, trembling veils. The four-legged beasts tethered at the edges of the camp began to whine and pull at their restraints, instincts screaming at them to flee.
For some reason, an even greater pressure came from that sword when it was engulfed in his strange white power.
"[Storm of The Water Dragon]"
The moment his fingers tightened around the hilt, the light intensified and he pointed it towards the direction of a mountain in the distance.
By this point the light was so bright, many had to cover their eyes.
Then it happened—a dragon burst forth from the sword's edge, its form unfurling in an instant yet vast beyond comprehension. Its body was not flesh, nor simple energy—it was something between the two, scales formed from condensed light and arcs of power that crawled across its length like living veins.
Instead of emerging gradually, it erupted like an explosion.
Its wings spread as it was sent flying through the air, and in that single motion, its shadow swallowed the camp whole then the entire region.
The dragon's size defied sense. Even as it surged forward, its body continued to extend, stretching across the sky like a living storm. The lands beneath it were drowned in its shadow, a vast silhouette that rolled over hills and forests alike.
Time felt slow so the boom that shook the lands felt like a slap to their consciousness. An entire mountain that was once within their view was blown up by the blue dragon.
The tremors reached them seconds later. No, it was more like an earthquake as if… the world was screaming at tasting just 10% of his power.
The pillar of light faded as quickly as it had come, leaving behind only the scar it had carved into the world. Rumors went around that dragons and various monster lords lived in those mountains, but from the sheer power of that explosion, it's safe to say they are no more if rumors are to be believed.
Arnold lowered his sword, not a bit of exhaustion on his face.
The white radiance dissipated, peeling away from his body like mist under sunlight until nothing remained but the man standing there, unchanged, as if he hadn't just rewritten the landscape with a single action.
Razor remained where he stood, unmoving, his arms hanging limply at his sides. His earlier bravado, his pride, his identity as a Beast Lord and Alpha to his people—all of it felt distant now, like something that belonged to another life.
His eyes drifted from the torn horizon… back to Arnold.
Slowly, his knees bent.
This man was no human at all—
He was a God.
That day, Adavire and the Alpha realized that, even amongst the strong, there are gaps in strength wider than they could've ever imagined.