Azaroth quickly got to his feet and ran to his sword, then faced his opponent.

Darian had a thick head because he had already picked himself up. He staggered, shook his head, then straightened. He looked angry as he turned to Azaroth.

An angry red handprint of a whip was on his face. It almost looked like a hand.

The crowd was silent. They didn’t know what just happened. What they saw was Darian sending his skill, and then he suddenly flew back, and then that wound on his face.

Corvus had told him that no one could see his thread unless he wanted them to. And it seemed he was right. The Captains must have seen Darian’s skill as the air ripped, but they caught nothing of Azaroth.

"What did you do?" Darian demanded.

Azaroth raised his sword. "You talk too much."

They stared at each other. Darian was calming down now, and that was not to Azaroth’s advantage because that meant the larger boy won’t act rashly.

Azaroth understood why he couldn’t see Darian’s skill now. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see it, but rather, it was too fast to catch, and it was like the air. Colorless.

When Darian used it close up that time, Azaroth saw it as it shimmered like heat.

Unlike Azaroth’s skill that was totally invisible, the thread coiled around him like a snake. He might get to use it maybe one more time, and that’s it; he would deplete his chaos core then.

Maybe he should just use his fire skill. Azaroth began to fill his mind with angels and shapes, connecting it to his formation.

Darian watched him. They both moved towards each other cautiously. No one knew what the other had in store, especially Darian, as he still didn’t know what Azaroth hit him with.

Then as if planned, they jumped at each other. Weapons trying to draw blood. They were evenly matched, and their weapons drew sparks.

Darian grunted as each sword strike made him take a step back. Azaroth fought like a wolf. A starved wolf. He threw himself at Darian and hacked at him with his sword but in a steady manner.

"You mangy dog!" Darian shouted. He put his weight on his axe and started fighting back. He leaped and kicked at Azaroth, who dodged the clumsy attack, but Darian used it to buy time and space because he immediately sent his skill to bash Azaroth.

Azaroth saw as the air in front of him warped as the skill approached; he heard the faint hum. Then he warped his thread on his sword like cloth and cut down.

A small shockwave rocked the two of them back as Azaroth cut Darian’s skill with his own.

"Not again!" Darian was breathing hard now. The essence in his body was frail and fragile as he exhausted his core. He had one skill left in him, and he wanted to make it count.

No one had expected the fight to last this long. Darian’s skill was impressive and superior to Azaroth. And just looking at them, Darian was the more powerful in physical strength, and he also had speed.

So why was he breathing hard? Why did he look so tired? Why hadn’t he finished the fight already?

Azaroth knew why. It was because he hadn’t expected Azaroth to be this strong. He underestimated him, and now that Azaroth could tell when his skill was coming, then there’s nothing to fear.

He added more fire essence to his body, and his black clothes looked as if they were dyed red.

Darian’s eyes widened. "How do you have so much essence left? And what skill do you hit me with? Don’t ignore me, talk!"

Azaroth raised his brows. "I thought you said you’ll break me in two. See, your master, Bella, won’t be happy with you. Because you will lose."

He didn’t like what Azaroth said. Darian bellowed and ran forward. He still had enough essence in his legs to make himself faster, and his axe came down like a hammer.

Azaroth was surprised. If their Rank could use more than one skill, then he might have suspected Darian of having a motive to attack him head-on like that.

And he was right. Darian did have. As Azaroth blocked the overhead slash, his defense was greatly lowered, and it was then that Darian sent his skill at his chest.

It should have been the end. But Azaroth had a chaos technique skill. His thread uncoiled like a snake and smacked the skill away, then as his chaos core ran out of essence, he used the last to target Darian’s hand—the one holding his weapon. He crushed his thumb with the axe.

Darian howled in pain; he drew back, threw his weapon down as he cradled his crushed thumb. And it was then that Azaroth finally used his fire technique.

"Ember strike!" Azaroth called, sheathed his sword, and moved into Darian’s space. Ember strike was a skill made for close combat; you have to touch your target then release combust fire as you strike them.

Normally you use a palm strike, but as Azaroth closed in, he punched Darian in the stomach and released the skill. Fire ripped violently between his fist and Darian’s stomach.

The larger boy did not have time to scream as he flew backward and silently crumbled. Unlike Darian’s skill, which had a large surface attack.

Ember strike uses all its fire and focuses it on that single strike, then releases it. It’s a very powerful skill, but the disadvantage was that you had to get close to use it.

Azaroth clenched his hand. If he didn’t use chaos core, then he would not have gotten close to use the skill. He was still lacking. A lot.

The spectators were silent as they exchanged bets. Those who won were given their money, and those who lost had something to say about Azaroth.

Both teams were silent. What some thought to be a one-sided fight turned into something they now had to analyze. As the way of the Hound.