Ishrak's inner self smiled as he knocked one of the sharp daggers out of the human's grip. The blade went flying and embedded itself in the soft earth with a satisfying thud.
If the human wasn't already on the back foot, then losing one of his weapons was sure to do the trick. But as things were, losing the dagger was like a death knell for the human.
All the fight seemed to leave the human boy's body when the weapon was lost. The fiery determination in his eyes was quenched, and his movements became sluggish and sloppy. It seemed as if the human was just giving up and accepting his death and Ishrak's hands.
At the snap of a finger, all the breath was sucked out of the fight.
Ishrak frowned as his opponent just threw in the towel so easily. What was once a desperate duel for survival became a one-sided execution, and the Daemon was thrown off by the sudden change.
He managed to stop the next heavy swing of his sword before it chopped the human's hand off, though the Daemon couldn't say for sure why he did it.
He knew that this human was his opponent and would most likely strike him down without a second thought if given the chance, but the empty look in the human's eyes stayed the warlord's hand. That look reminded him of his very first fight in the pits.
Back then Ishrak had nothing to live for, nothing to fight for, and it was only through the Pitmaster's mercy that he had been allowed to live to fight another day. Ishrak hadn't cared whether he lived or died at that moment. And now that same look was reflected in the human's eyes, clear as day.
Despite every fiber of his being telling him to end this human's life, Ishrak lowered weapons and assumed an unaggressive stance. Should he kill this human and reseal the Greater Daemon before it devoured his soul? Yes, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Something about this human resonated with him.
***
Despite the universe's best efforts, sometimes wrenches are thrown into its plans. Curve balls that change the very course of existence are thrown right back in the face of the universe's carefully crafted machinations.
It expected. No, it demanded obedience when it laid out the path for others to walk, and at this very moment Ishrak was veering off the path that had been determined for him. This wasn't Fate or Destiny playing their games, this was simply one being's will challenging the grandiosity of the universe.
And he was winning.
***
Alex glanced warily at the Daemon. He had closed his eyes and expected to have his head lopped off. Instead, he opened his eyes and found the Warlord standing down and lowering his weapons.
The adrenaline from the fight was wearing off, his body was bleeding from cuts and slashes all over, Arburnok had gone quiet, and now his opponent was deigning to show mercy?
Was this a trick of some kind? Was the Daemon simply trying to lure him into a false sense of security? Or did he just want to brag and gloat about his victory to the heavens?
At this point, dying would've been better than whatever possible form of torture this could be.
Being at the mercy of another being made Alex feel as powerless as ever. His whole journey so far had made him feel this way, and this moment was just the push over the edge. It was the tipping point in a long list of let downs, and he questioned why the gods had even thought to pick him in the first place.
He had been powerless to change anything. He was powerless to make a difference in the outcome of his fate. He had almost been powerless to save Amanda. He would always be powerless.
Fuck. That.
He had spent his entire previous life being powerless and unable to do anything about it. This life would not be the same. He would not let this life be determined by a feeling of powerlessness and helplessness.
He had all the tools at his disposal to get stronger. He had the opportunity to make a life he truly wanted to have. The only thing holding him back at this point was himself.
In a roundabout way, being at the mercy of this Daemon was a good thing. This mercy was a wake-up call to Alex. It stirred a beast that had been slumbering within him to the surface, and the beast was ravenous with a single desire.
So far he had just been doing everything in his power to survive and stay alive, going from day to day stumbling around blindly. This new and intense feeling that now flooded his body went deeper than that. It was like a breath of fresh air that he didn't know he needed. Survival wasn't gonna cut it anymore.
He wanted to live.
He wanted to have a complete life full of moments that he would cherish forever. He wanted to experience what it was like to be more than just a servant to some rich asshole. He wanted to make a difference and have an impact in the lives of those he cared about.
This second chance was about more than making up for his mistakes from his previous life.
It was about more than survival.
And this gods damned Daemon was in his way.
***
Something was different.
Ishrak had been standing by somewhat idly, watching the human with eyes that bordered on pity. But there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere that had him readying his weapons once more.
The human's aura had started to fluctuate rapidly. The golden swirls and dark tendrils that had once been harmonious were now moving chaotically and erratically, and it was hard to get a read on just what was happening.
The boy didn't seem like he was in any state to fight anymore, but that didn't stop the chill that ran down Ishrak's spine. Was this little human having a Breakthrough? No, that was impossible. He didn't seem to be anywhere near the peak of his current Stage, because if he had then Ishrak would not be the one holding his opponent's life in his hands.
Those that were either at the peak or nearing the peak of their Stage of Evolution were formidable beings and outright terrifying to face.
They were complete powerhouses in their own right, capable of feats that bordered on impossible, and there was just no way that this human was anywhere near that level of power.
The Breakthrough needed to push through to the next Stage of one's path was often a very demanding one, and it was for that reason that those beings often secluded themselves or spent weeks of time in mana rich environments to find the enlightenment that was needed to push forward.
It also wasn't uncommon for someone to experience a Refinement during a fight, especially if their opponent was on equal footing and pushed them to the absolute limit, but those types of Breakthroughs weren't as monumental as evolving to the next Stage.
And it most definitely never resulted in their aura behaving in such a way.
Oftentimes it was a Refinement with a certain skill or a technique that allowed them to gain an incremental increase in power.
What was happening now was something that Ishrak had never experienced before, and he couldn't quite tell exactly what was happening. All he knew was that if it continued, things could end very badly for him.
Something major was happening within the human, and Ishrak was starting to regret his decision to stay his hand. He should've struck down the human before he had any chance to get any stronger, but no matter how hard his mind tried to tell him what to do, his heart pushed back even harder with the opposite instruction.
He had once been shown mercy by someone he had deemed stronger than him, and that mercy was what had pushed him forward and given him a reason to fight. That mercy was what had allowed him to stay alive in the fighting pits. That mercy had been the fuel that lit the flame that drove Ishrak to who he was today.
Was it possible that a similar thing was now taking place with the human? Was his mercy in this moment the tipping point that allowed someone to realize their true purpose?
Maybe he and this human were more alike than he originally thought.
It was that line of thinking that dictated his next actions. Instead of cleaving this human in two and slaking Valkista's thirst like he should have, he was going to give this boy the same opportunity he had gotten.
Putting away both of his weapons, Ishrak approached the human without a hint of doubt in his mind. Despite their deathmatch-esque fight, this wasn't the end for either of them. Instead of an end, it was the beginning of something new.
Ishrak stuck out his hand to help the human stand, speaking the only words that came to mind. "Get stronger human. So that the next time we meet, our battle will rattle the Heavens and Hells themselves."
***
Red was the only color Alex saw. Rage and fury, the likes of which he had never felt before, was rampaging through his body, causing him to see the person he wanted to kill the most. Surviving in this universe didn't just require strength, it required the will to do whatever was necessary.
And this asshole dared to look down on him? Dared to hold him in a cell like a caged animal?
He would make sure that this piece of trash's torment was unending. If Arburnok had promised to visit nightmares beyond comprehension upon him, then what Alex would do would make that seem like child's play. He would make sure this bastard paid for the pain he inflicted on Amanda.
It didn't matter if he didn't have all the tools or skills to ensure that actually happened, but that didn't stop the white-hot anger pumping through his blood. Alex was pissed off, and this was the pound of flesh that was required in order to calm him.
Kill
Yes. That's what he needed to do. That was the only way forward. That was the only way he could prove to himself that he was strong. That was the only way to keep Amanda safe. That was the only way to survive. He had to die.
KILL
Alex clenched his fists tightly, readying himself to crush Anton Valdenci's body bit by bit. He would break every bone. He would pound the human who had dared to torture Amanda into an unrecognizable mess of flesh. There would be no salvation for the piece of shit that made his sister scream.
Just as he made to move, a voice broke through the hatred. It was soft and elegant, but that didn't make the harsh sounding syllables any easier to recognize as words that Alex could understand.
"Fak-ghin es tora. Odth tes mar ura ki, te clik ars fe Makar ie Un-Makar ysar."
Alex blinked once. Twice. And then a third time as his vision cleared up and returned to normal. The anger and rage that had been so profound just a moment ago evaporated, as if it had never even been there in the first place.
A red-skinned clawed hand was reaching out towards him, its dark sharpened nails glinting in the moonlight. It didn't seem to be a threatening move from the Daemon, and was more like a helping hand offered to someone in need.
Everything came rushing back a moment later.
The duel. How outmatched he had been. The moment that he was sure he would be killed again. He remembered the moment of mercy his opponent had offered. After that though, everything was a bit hazy.
Alex looked up at the person behind the offered hand. There was no pity in those eyes, no anger at the fact that both of them were still standing, only cold calculation could be found in the orbs of orange staring down at him.
The Daemon's weapons had vanished, seemingly put away, and Alex couldn't sense their presence anywhere. Was this guy really helping him? Why? Arburnok had been a crash course in Daemons and their trickery, so if the warlord was extending an olive branch there had to be a reason.
However, that didn't stop Alex from taking the Daemon's hand and being pulled to his feet. There was a moment of tense understanding as both fighters stared into each other's eyes, and then he was freed from the Daemon's iron grip.
Calling it 'peace' would be going a bit too far, but the look the warlord had given him conveyed all that Alex needed to know. This wasn't some trick or back handed tactic that was being pulled. Their duel to the death was over for the time being.
Something had changed the circumstances of their duel, and for whatever reason, the Daemon no longer wanted to spill Alex's blood. Likewise, Alex found it hard to really care about killing the Daemon.
Sure, Arburnok had said that it was super important to not let the warlord leave this realm alive, but who said that he had to listen to the voice in his head?
He didn't take marching orders from gods, and he sure as shit didn't take marching orders from Greater Daemons, no matter how powerful they might be.
Alex went and retrieved the twin dagger that had been knocked from his hands earlier, letting out a heavy breath as he did so. This ordeal had taken a lot out of him, and he was glad it was over.
He had barely survived yet again, which was cause enough for celebration, but he didn't feel particularly cheery. Sure, he managed to go another day without dying, but that wasn't enough for him.
His earlier thoughts from before came back, and Alex found himself smiling despite the situation. One thought in particular outshone the rest, and it was the reason for the stupid grin on his face. He had something worth fighting for in this hell hole of a universe, and it was as if a switch had been flipped for him.
Yeah. He wanted to live.