Aetheric Chronicles: Reborn As An Extra-Chapter 490: Ferocious Scythe Vs Subtle Assasin

’I want to fight him.’

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Scythe boy’s mouth watered at the thought of their battle.

Meanwhile, the young man’s lips twitched upward into a smile, but it was a smile that was almost predatory. There was something dangerous in it, something far colder than the scythe boy’s own grin. It was a knowing smile. A smile that said,

I’m aware of what you’re trying to do,

but it also carried a subtle challenge of its own.

"Alright," the young man said, his voice smooth, without a hint of hesitation or uncertainty. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

The scythe boy’s heartbeat quickened. This was it. This was the fight he had been waiting for. Continue reading stories on empire

"Hehe, let me show you then."

_____ __

The gong resounded, signaling the start of the duel. The colosseum fell into utter silence, the kind that crackled with tension. All eyes were locked on the platform where the scythe boy and the young man stood, the air between them almost tangible with anticipation.

The scythe boy moved first, lunging forward with the grace of a predator. His scythe gleamed like liquid night, its wicked blade sweeping in a combo of deadly arcs toward the young man. The attack was swift, precise, and ferocious—but it never landed.

The young man sidestepped effortlessly, his movements so fluid and precise it was as if he had anticipated the strike before it was even made. His dark brown eyes remained calm, unflinching, as he weaved through the scythe’s deadly dance.

The scythe boy’s grin widened, the thrill of the fight electrifying his veins. "Heh... you’re better than I thought," he muttered, his voice low, nearly lost in the tense silence.

He pressed on, unleashing a flurry of attacks. The scythe moved like an extension of his body, carving through the air with deadly precision. He swung it like a sword, its blade slicing through the space between them with a whistling sound. Each strike was meant to corner, to overpower, to kill.

But the young man moved as though the battle were a choreographed dance he had memorized. He ducked under strikes, spun away from sweeping arcs, and even leaned back at impossible angles to avoid lethal blows. The crowd was spellbound, the intensity of the duel holding them in breathless awe.

The scythe boy growled, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. His opponent wasn’t just strong—he was calculating. It was as if the young man could see through him, predicting his every move.

"Let’s see how you handle this!" the boy snarled. He gripped his scythe with both hands, channeling his full power. A black aura seeped from the weapon, coiling like smoke before exploding outward. The platform beneath him trembled as the power surged.

With a roar, he swung the scythe in a wide arc, its blade cutting through the very air with a dark, violent force. The arena shook as the attack tore across the platform, slicing the young man clean in two. The force of the swing left a massive crater in the stone floor, jagged and smoldering.

For a heartbeat, the crowd froze. The scythe boy stood tall, his smile never faltering.

But then, the young man’s body—split in two—disintegrated into nothingness. Not blood, not flesh, but an illusion, an afterimage.

The scythe boy’s smile twisted into surprise.

"!"

His instincts screamed, a primal alarm surging through his veins. He spun around just in time to raise his scythe, blocking a pair of gleaming daggers aimed at his neck. The young man was behind him, his expression as calm and predatory as ever.

The clash of weapons sent a shockwave rippling through the colosseum, forcing both combatants to separate. The scythe boy stumbled backward, planting the handle of his weapon into the ground to stop himself from falling. His breaths came in sharp, shallow bursts, but his grin returned—feral, wild.

Meanwhile, the young man landed gracefully, controlling his momentum midair as though gravity bent to his will. His daggers twirled in his hands, their sharp edges glinting ominously in the sunlight. His cold, calculating gaze never left the scythe boy.

The crowd erupted into murmurs, their amazement palpable.

"They’re both monsters…" someone whispered.

The duel resumed with even greater intensity. The scythe boy lunged again, his strikes faster and more erratic. The platform cracked under the weight of his relentless offense. Each swing of his scythe seemed to grow heavier, more dangerous, leaving trails of black energy in their wake.

But the young man remained untouchable. He moved like a phantom, evading with an assassin’s grace. Each dodge was a fraction of a second from death, but he remained unshaken. Then he struck back, his daggers flashing in the sunlight as he darted in and out of the scythe’s range, forcing the boy onto the defensive.

Their movements became a blur, a symphony of destruction and precision. The scythe boy’s wild power and skill clashed with the young man’s deadly agility and calculated strikes. Sparks flew as blade met blade, the echoes of their clash resounding throughout the colosseum.

The crowd was transfixed, their eyes glued to the battle. Every move, every strike, every dodge was met with gasps and murmurs of disbelief.

"This is no ordinary duel," someone muttered.

"They’re fighting like it’s life or death…"

The scythe boy was relentless, but frustration began to creep into his strikes. No matter how powerful his attacks, no matter how fast or unpredictable, the young man evaded or countered with surgical precision. And worse, the young man never broke a sweat, his calm demeanor unshaken even in the face of the boy’s ferocity.

But the scythe boy’s grin never faltered. If anything, his eagerness only grew.

"Good… good!" he growled, his voice trembling with excitement. "You’re the kind of opponent I’ve been waiting for!"

The young man didn’t respond.

His cold eyes narrowed as he suddenly closed the distance, his daggers flashing toward the scythe boy’s chest. The boy barely managed to deflect the strike, but the force of the attack sent him skidding backward, his boots scraping against the stone floor.

The scythe boy chuckled, his breaths ragged but filled with exhilaration. "You’re good, I’ll give you that," he said, straightening. He gripped his weapon tighter, the black aura around it growing darker. "But let’s see how long you can-!"

"Huh?"

The scythe boy’s taunt was cut short as a cold sensation crept up his leg. His grin faltered. His gaze darted downward—and his eyes widened in shock.

His right leg, from the knee to his thigh, was encased in thick ice, frost creeping up toward his hip. The realization hit him like a thunderclap:

When?!

Before he could process or react, a blur of movement erupted in front of him.

CRACK!

A fist landed squarely against his right cheek, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Blood sprayed from his mouth, and one of his teeth flew out, hitting the stone floor with a faint clink. He stumbled sideways, his body jerking with the force of the blow.

The scythe boy growled, a guttural sound rising from his throat. Pain lanced through his jaw, but it was drowned out by the boiling rage bubbling inside him. The black aura around his scythe pulsed violently, exploding outward like a living thing. It surged toward the brown-haired young man, dark tendrils lashing through the air with malicious intent.

But before the energy could reach its target, a radiant column of light erupted from the ground beneath the scythe boy.

BOOM!

The light engulfed him and the scythe in an instant, a blinding brilliance that sent waves of heat radiating through the arena. The black aura shrieked like a wounded beast, disintegrating on contact with the purifying light. The scythe boy cried out, shielding his eyes with his free arm as the dark energy around him evaporated into nothingness.

The crowd gasped in unison, their voices blending into a cacophony of astonishment.

"What? He could use light?!"

"It’s purifying the dark energy!"

The boy staggered, his movements sluggish. He tried to swing his scythe, to channel his power once more, but his body felt heavy, unresponsive. As he attempted to move, something struck the back of his head with an audible

thud

.

THWACK!