Dance With Darkness And Light 38 Into A Dragon's Feas

It took merely four seconds since the official start of the third trial, and the first partic.i.p.ant had already been knocked out of the compet.i.tion.

While this was shocking to most of the remaining one hundred and ten still standing, the ones on platform five felt cold sweat creeping down their back. The viciousness of which this third prince from the kingdom of Dias had been disposed of. The exceeding aggressiveness with which that one fist hit his face multiple times, brought upon an uneasy feeling in their hearts.

Bazuul turned around, his face plastered with a satisfied expression, but unconsciously most on his platform took a step back because of this. Their bodies obviously showed them what their pride would not let them admit, a sense of defeat.

However, most were definitely not all. One of them actually confidently took a step forward.

"I have never had any admiration for those that pick on the weak, contrary to your tactic, I believe defeating the strongest ones will bring me the most glory. Now come and face me!" Said the person in a valkyrie-esqe armor with an undertone of prideful disgust. However, one could clearly see the fiery thirst for battle in her eyes as it shone through her helmet. Contrary to the others, the scene with Hugo seemed to have set Brynja's will to fight on fire.

Bazuul, on the other hand, barely gave her any attention. He looked at her for less than a second before ignoring her mid-sentence. Just before she finished, Bazuul had already appeared amidst a couple of other compet.i.tors still dazed by the previous scene. While he attacked them, of course not as vicious as he did with Hugo, he indifferently said, "Sounds so righteous, but sorry, I don't hit little girls."

Meanwhile, the others around him had woken up from their confusion and started to counter-attack.

On the other side though, Brynja flushed red from anger. "Is he making fun of me? What little girl? Did this little kid just dare to call me a little girl?! No one. NO ONE makes fun of me! This big sister will show you how to behave by leading you to death's door!" She thought as she started to draw her sword out of the sheath.

Suddenly, every hair on her body stood stiff. For some reason, she heard a voice whispering into her right ear from behind.

"Just kidding!" Bazuul said mid-air before slamming his elbow against the back of her neck, causing her to stumble forward and almost falling onto the ground unconscious.

The intense pain in her neck traveled upwards her brain. The shock caused by this attack had hurt her immensely as even her vision had turned blurry from the shock her body was experiencing.

As a proud princess and valkyrie though, she was a tough one. Instead of succ.u.mbing to the pain and possible damage to her, she swung her sword toward him while she turned around, which in turn, caught Bazuul wholly unprepared.

Considering this he immediately activated his [Mirage] technique. Brynja, on the other hand, kept attacking full force. To her surprise, Bazuul seemingly made no attempt whatsoever to dodge. Unable to stop her attack, or maybe unwilling, her sword connected right below his ribcage and cut him in half.

A second later though, Bazuul appeared to be crackling and suddenly shattered like gla.s.s. Dazzled by the tiny little particles of gla.s.s that previously were Bazuul, suspended in a sunbeam, they glittered in a mult.i.tude of colors.

Unprepared, Bazuul appeared right behind her, and without holding back, he smashed his fist on her back, whilst simultaneously channeling the power of expulsion.

With a loud but dull noise, Brynja uncontrollably flew down the platform. Admittedly, she looked far less miserable as Hugo did before. However, she still had fallen short in her endeavor to prove herself in the royal tournament.

After she finally stood up with great difficulty, she realized that she too had been disqualified. Just like the calm before the storm, she was quiet at first, but soon she started to throw a slight tantrum due to the shame. Brynja actually accused Bazuul of not being a true man since all he could do was attack her from behind.

With his back to her and already embroiled in a skirmish with several others he simply ignored her. Only chuckling inside.

With time, the number of compet.i.tors on platform five slowly decreased. Some attacked randomly, others in pairs while they coordinated their attacks but still weren't even able to force one technique out of him. Now all the more, did he realize the difference in cultivation realms. Even if their fists and legs were to connect, to say that he would receive damage from it would be an exaggeration. At most, he would feel a little pain. Though pain, to him, was bound to time and thus fleeting in nature.

In the end, each of them had been knocked out or off the platform by Bazuul personally. The elders, even the disqualified compet.i.tors from other platforms, were quite shocked at this. Not only was he dominating everyone on his platform he also made exceedingly quick work of them. As if a dragon suppressing local snakes he trashed them and only ten minutes later one of the two remaining surrendered by his own volition. Thus, only Bazuul and the young commoner with a cultivation of the third stage of the true qi realm remained.

"Eeh ~ You're slippery one aren't you? Not even one attack came from you, from beginning to end." Bazuul said factually. After all, this was the first time Bazuul caught sight of this fellow ever since the beginning.

"Tell me, where are you from? What's your name?" Bazuul continued with a slight smirk.

"Why would I have to tell you anything? Because you're a prince?" The nameless boy answered suffused with quite a layer of contempt.

Bazuul slightly lifted his hands and shrugged at this. "Well, it doesn't matter really, this is a compet.i.tion after all, not a social to make friends. On the other hand, I can always find out who you are if I really want to, and you can do nothing about it."

"Yes, as always you people in authority think you can do as you wish. Trash like you disgusts me!" The young boy retorted before he spat on the ground.

Bazuul wore a slightly ridiculing expression as he said, "Oookaaay? Well, I didn't mean that, but good to know how you feel, I guess." and somewhat chuckled after that.

The young commoner was confused because Bazuul stood several meters away from him, yet his voice seemed to come from somewhere else entirely.

He instinctively looked around him but before he was halfway through a fist hit him full on in the face, which caused him to fly backward a couple of meters before viciously slamming onto the platform floor right in front of Bazuul's feet. When he looked up toward him though, the illusion shattered. He stood up and saw that the real one was actually located at his previous position, with the same smirk on his face as before.

It was that sort of smile that he hated the most. Especially when it came from those who thought themselves to be something better, just because of their position in society. Filled with anger, he initiated his attack. He moved his arms in an almost ritualistic fas.h.i.+on before aligning them vertically, shortly after he simultaneously slammed both his fist on the floor.

This caused the platform to shake slightly, and through Bazuul's earth elemental perception he could feel the source of it moving toward him. He looked at the ground he stood on, narrowing his eyes as it lay right beneath him, before jumping a step back. Just then, at the moment he landed, a part of the platform shot upwards and seemingly formed a wall. Bazuul immediately straightened his neck back up so as to avoid the edges of the wall to rip his face off. Still, even after he dodged this advance, he was so close to the wall that his nose nearly touched it.

He took another step back and looked at the wall in awe, but before he could fully admire it, this earthen formation suddenly shot back down. As such, the platform returned to its previous state. When Bazuul looked up again, something else was dangerously close to his face, a fist!