Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1215: Gladiators Reunited Again

The cavern seemed to hold its breath as Enel and Perseus circled each other, their eyes locked in mutual respect and challenge. Both men were stripped down to the raw essentials—no magic, no enhancements, just the culmination of years of training and experience.

Perseus had to intentionally soften his body that had been baptised in the aura of his demon rank just to make it fair. As far as he was concerned, he was going to teach Enel a lesson he would never forget.

Enel struck first, closing the gap with a quick jab aimed at Perseus’s face. Perseus leaned back, narrowly dodging the blow, and retaliated with a sharp kick toward Enel’s midsection. Enel twisted his torso just in time, the kick grazing his ribs but not landing solidly.

"You’re faster than I expected," Perseus said, his voice steady despite the intensity of the exchange.

"And you’re tougher than you look," Enel replied, a smirk curling his lips. He feinted left, then threw a right hook aimed at Perseus’s jaw.

Perseus caught the punch mid-air, gripping Enel’s wrist like a vice, and countered with a knee strike. Enel twisted his arm free and rolled to the side, evading the strike with the agility of a serpent.

The fight escalated. Perseus threw powerful punches and kicks, each blow carrying the weight of a seasoned warrior who had faced countless battles. His movements were fluid yet deliberate, each strike meant to overpower and subdue. But no matter how hard he tried, Enel slipped through his attacks like water through a clenched fist.

"You’re like an eel," Perseus muttered, frustration creeping into his tone as he launched a sweeping kick toward Enel’s legs. "Always slipping away."

Enel jumped over the kick and landed lightly, grinning. "I’ve been called worse." He closed in again, landing a quick jab to Perseus’s ribs, followed by a spinning backhand that barely missed its mark.

Perseus staggered back, rubbing his side. "not bad... boy," he admitted, his eyes narrowing. "But my many years beat yours."

Perseus did nit know that even though he had many years of experience, about a hundred now, Enel in his past live as lenny had eaten a log of cores and therefore taken the experiences of those lives. When it came to combat by experience alone, lenny was a bank.

The former gladiator, Perseus, shifted his stance, his posture grounded and powerful. He launched a flurry of strikes—punches, elbows, and knee jabs—in rapid succession. Enel dodged and parried with uncanny precision, weaving through the storm of attacks.

As the fight wore on, Enel began to notice it somethings. Perseus was undeniably skilled, his movements honed by years of roaming the world and countless battles. Yet there were old habits buried within his style—remnants of his time as a gladiator. Perseus’s over-reliance on certain power strikes left him exposed in key moments, and his footwork, though solid, had gaps that a keen observer could exploit.

Enel smirked inwardly. "You’ve come far, Perseus, but not far enough."

Exploiting these weaknesses, Enel began countering more effectively. When Perseus threw a heavy right hook, Enel ducked under and delivered a sharp uppercut to his solar plexus. When Perseus stepped in with a telegraphed kick, Enel sidestepped and swept his leg out from under him, forcing him to roll and recover.

The werewolves watching could not help but gasp at this. After all, they knew their Lord well. This cunny man had faced demons and fallen angels again and again, and he had come out on top, even in raw combat.

Perseus even participated in training werewolves from time to time, and had gaken 150 of them before in combat, and did not lose.

But here, before their eyes, a little prince that looked to still be wet behind the ears was actually putting pressure on Perseus.

It was unbelievable.

"You’re good," Perseus grunted, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth as he stood. "But your style... it feels familiar. Too familiar."

Enel didn’t respond, his expression unreadable as he shifted his stance, preparing for the next exchange.

And the the realization gnawed at Perseus as they fought on. He recognized the way Enel moved, the way he dodged and countered with surgical precision. It wasn’t just skill—it was mimicry. Enel wasn’t just fighting him; he was using Perseus’s own style against him, adapting and evolving mid-battle.

And then it hit him.

Perseus froze momentarily, memories flooding his mind. He had seen this fighting style before. Not just seen it—he had studied it, admired it, and incorporated parts of it into his own technique. The way Enel moved, the fluidity of his counters, the precision of his strikes—it was unmistakable.

Enel darted forward, landing a sharp punch to Perseus’s chest before flipping back, landing gracefully. Then he shifted into a stance—no sword in hand, but the stance itself was unmistakable.

The ’O Gasume stance.’

Perseus’s eyes widened in shock, and his knees buckled as he fell to the ground. Tears welled in his eyes, sliding down his cheeks as he stared at Enel in disbelief.

"Lenny..." Perseus whispered, his voice trembling. "Is that you?"

Enel stood still, his breathing heavy and bloodied fists clenched. Slowly, his lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile—an unspoken confirmation.

Tears streamed freely from Perseus’s eyes now, his voice breaking. "I thought you were gone... I thought you were—"

"I was," Enel interrupted softly, his tone carrying the weight of untold pain. "But here I am."

Perseus bowed his head, overwhelmed by the revelation. The fight was over, but the emotions that followed were only beginning to surface.

"A hundred years... A hundred fucking years... i did a lot, a lot... to find you. But that day, we felt it. We all felt you die...I" he choked on his words.

Enel stepped forward, Perseus was taller than him, and it looked like a father embracing a son, but it was two friends...no, brothers that had fought through difficulty together, reunited as one again.

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After a while, Enel stepped back, and perseus wiped the tears from his eyes. And then a realization hit him, "damn, who could have thought that you would become your son’s son... what the fucking is happening with the wheel of rebirth. And are you even suppose to retain your memories?" Perseus chuckled a bit.

Enel joined him, "i know right, fate just loves screwing me in the ass."

Both men laughed at Enel’s expense and then Enel suddenly carried a serious look on his face, "so tell me, why are you here."

"The morningstar, and the Primordial Demons... But its not just them, we believe the whole of creation might be in trouble."