Nathanaël went to sleep as well. It wasn't very comfortable, but at least his tent blocked the wind.
He closed his eyes slowly. Gently…
"Can't you see what he's doing?"
Nathanaël woke up with a start again. It was the second time he'd heard someone shouting in his dreams. He couldn't see anyone — only that voice. A voice he didn't recognize.
"Sleep well?"
That one, however, was a voice he did recognize. And it was far less mysterious.
The sun was already blazing high. Nathanaël raised a hand to shield his eyes from the bright light.
"Not bad, right? It's hot, but the wind makes it bearable. Easier to sleep than you'd think."
Azraüs was drinking an enormous cup of milk from a mug carved out of wood. A mug so big it was almost the size of his forearm. Nathanaël couldn't help wondering if their size came from the absurd amount of food they consumed.
"Good. I can't wait for you to learn Norde. After that, we'll head to the capital, and I'll become the strongest warrior of all time."
"Weren't you already?"
"Yeah, but this time, everyone will know it."
Nathanaël honestly wasn't sure how useful any of that was supposed to be.
"So, Nathy! Sleep well?"
Reno appeared on horseback and even the horse was the size of three boulders stacked together. Nathanaël started to wonder if everything in Nozras was three times bigger than normal, or if he had simply shrunk.
"Yes. It wasn't too bad."
Reno had his usual cheerful look. Despite being a walking mountain of muscle capable of crushing anything in his path, he somehow also looked like he could hug the world.
"Good. Meet me in the tent in a couple of hours. We'll start then."
"Okay."
Reno galloped off right away, leaving behind a thick trail of dust.
Nathanaël turned to Azraüs.
"Where's he going so early?"
"Hunting."
"Hunting?"
"Yeah. Killing animals, if you prefer."
"Right…"
Nathanaël watched the cloud of dust fade in the distance.
"All by himself?"
"He's never needed help."
There was no doubt about it — the trust between father and son ran deep. They were both strong, confident men, and they both knew it.
Azraüs was eating a red fruit that looked like a giant peach when, suddenly, he jumped to his feet, tossed it aside, and looked at Nathanaël with shining eyes.
"Hey, Nathy! I've got an idea. What if we fight?"
Nathanaël blinked, taken aback by the sudden burst of excitement, and instinctively stepped back.
"Fight? Why?"
"Training! How do you say it where you're from? To get stronger?"
It took a moment for Nathanaël to understand Azraüs's intent. He didn't mean a real fight — just a sparring match. A way to train. Still, knowing Nozras, Nathanaël wasn't entirely sure what training meant here.
But in the end, he nodded.
"Great! Follow me. I know the perfect place."
Azraüs walked toward a dry plain where a white circle was drawn on the ground. There was no need to think twice — it was clearly a combat zone. Other members of the clan were already fighting fiercely, kicking up dust with their bare feet and their towering figures. One wielded a spiked club thick as a log, the other a curved wooden blade the size of an arm.
Their battle was impressive to watch.
When Azraüs arrived, everyone turned their gaze toward him. Around the arena, spectators were enjoying the clash of the strongest — especially the children, eyes wide with awe.
Azraüs pointed at the circle with a wide grin.
"This is where we beat the hell out of each other. Well, except for my father, no one wants to fight me. I'm glad you agreed."
Suddenly, a chill ran down Nathanaël's spine.
He stepped into the circle as soon as the other warriors' match ended. Azraüs took position on the opposite side, resting his enormous club on the ground, leaning on it casually.
Looking at the battered state of the terrain, Nathanaël asked,
"Any rules?"
"Huh? No need. I'm stronger without them."
"What?"
After a tense thirty seconds of silence, their eyes locked, Azraüs gave a small nod which Nathanaël took as the signal to start.
He didn't draw his sword. His goal was to improve his combat skills without it. He wasn't as strong or athletic as Marc and Jin — only tall enough, sturdy enough. Without aura, he would surely lose to Azraüs. That was exactly why he wanted to grow stronger through experience, through the training Nozras could give him.
However…
"Where are you looking?"
Azraüs closed the distance in the blink of an eye. Nathanaël reacted too late. The club smashed against his head and sent him flying.
"What's wrong, Nathy? You were stronger than that in the forest."
Nathanaël didn't even understand what had happened. That speed wasn't human. Azraüs was supposed to be human, yet he was as fast as the Emperor. And his strength far surpassed that of the supreme ruler himself.
He tried to get up, crawling on all fours, taking the chance to glance at his impossibly powerful opponent.
And when he looked at him — he understood. The aura surrounding Azraüs was just as immense as the Emperor's, even though he had never touched the other world. It filled the space around him, vast and violent, like the presence of a living entity. A blazing storm of fury engulfing the entire area.
"How is that possible? Does aura really depend on the other world?"
Azraüs stood straight, his club resting on his shoulders. From his point of view, Nathanaël's confusion was pathetic...and disappointing.
"What are you mumbling, Nathy? Get up!"
The people around the ring pitied Nathanaël. They knew just how strong Azraüs was. Some even wore depressed expressions, as if watching a man walk to his death. Yet curiosity drew more and more of them closer.
Nathanaël noticed the growing crowd. They came because they were intrigued. Even if they didn't like him, Azraüs was a symbol — the freedom of the strong. A being who could do whatever he pleased because no one could rival him. And before such power, all one could do was show respect.
He placed the club on his back and looked at Nathanaël with a freezing stare.
"You coming or not?"
Nathanaël refocused himself. This fight reminded him of his battle against Jin in the church — that feeling of inferiority before geniuses always made his blood boil.
Every time he faced one, he ended up losing. It was as if heaven itself had chosen them to be better and no matter what he did, he could never win.
It was humiliating, degrading. Outwardly, he'd smile and say that's just how life was, but deep down, he burned with rage at the unfairness of it all.
But this time…
"It's doable."
He felt he could win. So he stood up again — but this time, his eyes were different.
Azraüs grinned.
"I like that look better."
His aura flared wildly before Nathanaël's eyes. But Nathanaël wasn't surprised anymore. His pupils began to gleam faintly.
He had spent some time trying to calmly master his aura and use it correctly. Among the group, he was probably the one who had mastered it best.
So he could afford to play a little.
"Bring it on."
Azraüs swung again, cutting through the air, but this time, Nathanaël stopped the club with his left hand, focusing his aura there as he ducked low.
"Oh?"
Azraüs was surprised. So was the crowd.
"Good."
Azraüs jumped back, then charged again. This time, he aimed for the side of Nathanaël's abdomen. Nathanaël raised his arm to block, but at the last second, the club changed direction, rising up toward his torso instead.
"Huh?"
Azraüs didn't look like it because he always seemed stupid and carefree but when it came to fighting…
"Watch closely, Nathy."
He never lost.
A violent blow landed on Nathanaël's upper body, echoing across the field. The crowd thought he was dead and all stood at once. But Nathanaël wasn't about to give up that easily.
His left hand had stopped the club once again.
"Whew. That was close."
He landed lightly after being thrown through the air, then looked at his opponent... and froze.
Azraüs was grinning from ear to ear, like a child opening his presents.
Nathanaël shivered. He was fighting to avoid being crushed, while Azraüs was just… having fun.
This time, it was Nathanaël's turn to attack. He advanced slowly, silently — like a serpent preparing to strike.
Then suddenly, he tried to land precise blows to his face, his hand, straight as an I and reinforced by his aura, made it as hard as steel. The blows flew like bullets towards Azraüs's face.
But Azraüs deflected them all with his club, effortlessly. The finesse and precision with which he did it reminded Nathanaël of the difference between him and Jin.
Jin was a master of combat. His experience and genius combined made him a true fighting machine in any situation. Azraüs was the same. A prodigy like him wouldn't fall for mere aura-enhanced strikes.
"Nathanaël didn't know how to fight, but he knew how to think. So he would have to rely on his wits to defeat a genius rather than a white being.
At one point, Azraüs unbalanced Nathanaël with a simple move, leaving him in an open guard.
"Got you."
Azraüs gripped his club tightly, preparing his strike, but Nathanaël blocked the swing before it could gain momentum, stopping its path with his right foot.
"I'm not exactly good with my legs."
He then ducked low and attempted a tackle, slamming his aura against Azraüs's ankles.
The ground trembled — but Azraüs didn't even flinch.
He looked down at his opponent with a faint, dominant smile.
"Put your heart into it, Nathy."
Azraüs raised his club high into the sky and swung it down with tremendous force. Nathanaël barely dodged. The ground where he stood split open in a massive crater.
"I'm having fun, Nathy! Aren't you? Shall we keep going?"
Nathanaël looked at his opponent. He quickly understood that he was outclassed in every way. But he still refused to unleash his aura fully. He wanted to grow stronger without relying on it. And he could.
Azraüs might be a prodigy, but Nathanaël was no longer the same man he once was. He too had experience now — and perhaps, even more terrifying than Azraüs's.
"Why not?"
The crowd grew larger around them. Soon, the entire village had gathered to watch.
Azraüs had found a worthy opponent. There was no way anyone would miss this.
Azraüs himself was surprised. It took him a moment to realize — he had finally found a companion. He didn't necessarily want one, but this one… was perfect.
After staring blankly at Nathanaël for a moment, he came back to his senses and grinned again.
"Awesome!"
Both of them charged forward.
The fight lasted for a full hour.Each exchanged a series of well-placed blows Whenever Nathanaël felt the need, he reinforced specific parts of his body with aura. His mastery grew at a shocking rate. No one else could see it, but Nathanaël was glowing within the circle.
Azraüs saw it shine but not in the same way. What he saw was a light of brilliance. He countered and attacked in a thoughtful and elegant manner with unmatched focus. Even though Azraüs knew he was stronger, he couldn't see himself winning anymore — not even at his peak.
"Haha."
He laughed mid-battle, unable to help himself from enjoying it.
Reno returned to the village, dragging behind him three massive beasts that looked like giant lions. They were called lores in Nozras. His gigantic horse pulled them effortlessly.
But when Reno arrived, he found no one.
"Where the hell did everyone go?"
He searched around, but the village was empty — completely deserted, as if everyone had vanished at once.
Then, he heard noise coming from the combat ring. He followed the sounds and was shocked to find the entire village gathered there.
And in the center of the circle was his son.
He didn't need to guess who the second fighter was. Nathanaël was trading blows evenly with Azraüs. The young man's concentration was so intense Reno could feel it from where he stood. It was an incredible sight — one he wasn't used to seeing.
His son was fighting as an equal...And not against just anyone...
He watched the two young men in silence.
"So that's how it is."
But someone had to put an end to this little training session.
He leapt over the crowd and landed in the center of the ring like a meteor. By the time Nathanaël saw him, it was already too late. The same for Azraüs.
Both of them took a punch to the head.
It was the hardest hit Nathanaël had received all day. His head spun, and little stars began to dance in his vision.
Through the haze of pain, he lifted his head, just to see who had hit him.
"You're really strong, kid."
Reno reached out his hand and helped him to his feet.
"And what, I don't get a helping hand?"
"No."
"Screw you, old man."