Rebirth: Necromancer's Ascenscion-Chapter 50: Demon and The Splitter - Part II

The sands of the Arena had already been painted red.

Now they were thirsty.

Both fighters clashed many times before they pulled back.

Torkas’ axe dragged behind him, carving a long furrow through the arena floor as he closed in on Ian with an expression that was neither glee nor fury—just cold expectation.

Like a man already measuring where to bury the body.

Across from him, Ian adjusted his stance, breathing ragged but steady.

The crimson flicker of Bloodflame danced along one dagger, while the other pulsed faintly with a deeper, hungry darkness—Vowbreaker, awakened.

Even so, Ian had not yet called upon its full wrath.

He was still holding back.

From the noble stands, Velrosa leaned forward, eyes glinting behind her veil of poise. Next to her, Eli was still as a statue, arms crossed, lips pressed into a tight line.

Ian’s gaze flicked upward—and in that moment, Eli moved.

A slow nod. Subtle. But unmistakable.

Now.

Ian inhaled.

Eli’s warning echoed in his mind: "Make it look hard. Bleed if you must. But when you win—make sure they know what it cost."

Torkas took that moment of stillness as hesitation.

Mistake.

He charged with a low, thundering growl.

Ian activated [Aura of Decay.]

A wave of necrotic energy pulsed out from him in a radius. The air shimmered as it touched living flesh, and Torkas slowed—not much, but enough.

Their weapons met.

Steel and bone.

Axe and daggers.

Weight and speed.

Ian ducked the first wide cleave, rolled beneath the follow-up, and drove a dagger into Torkas’ side. It bit, barely—a shallow wound—but the Bloodflame surged through it, hissing as it burned from within.

Torkas howled.

His elbow snapped back, catching Ian across the temple.

Stars. Ian stumbled.

Blood poured into his left eye. Before he could steady, Torkas brought the axe down again.

Ian jumped sideways. The Splitter’s Wrath erupted.

The ground exploded in a concussive blast of stone and air. A deep crater opened where Ian had been a moment before. Shards of stone shredded across his back as he rolled, hissing through his teeth.

The crowd roared.

"THAT’S a damn fight!"

"His axe cracked the floor!"

"Did the newbie just roll through that?! What is he made of?"

"That’s demon blood, I swear it!"

---

Torkas surged forward, closing distance with an unnatural Earth-Shatter Leap.

He landed like a meteor. Ian barely pivoted aside, but even then the shockwave sent him skidding across the sand, leaving a jagged trench in his wake.

Torkas came again, relentless, swinging down. Ian parried with both daggers crossed—and crumpled under the force.

His knees hit sand.

The ground trembled. His arms screamed under the pressure.

Torkas grinned. "You done yet?"

Vowbreaker lit, the daggers were hungrier now.

Ian spat blood onto the man’s boot. "Not even—" he activated Predator’s Pact "—close."

He vanished in a blur of speed.

Suddenly behind Torkas.

A slash across the back of the knee—precise. The tendons there snapped.

Torkas staggered, one leg collapsing for a second. freewēbnoveℓ.com

Ian struck again—a horizontal slash across the ribs. Vowbreaker flared. The [Predator’s Pact] ignited his next blow with a burst of speed and force, piercing half an inch into the mutated hide.

Blood spilled, black-red and steaming. The crowd gasped.

"He’s hurting him!"

"Did you see that vanish?"

"That ain’t just mana. That’s something else."

Torkas bellowed and swung blindly in fury. Ian ducked. Then his blade lit once more—not with Bloodflame.

With Soulflame.

It wasn’t red. It was grey.

A flickering, sickly light that danced with cold purpose. Like fire that had died but refused to stop burning.

Ian stabbed forward—and pierced through Torkas’ gut.

The Soulflame devoured. Flesh sizzled. Blood hissed. Torkas let out a guttural sound that was not human—half-choke, half-growl. He stumbled back, one hand pressed against the open hole in his abdomen.

Ian stood straight, chest heaving, eyes shining with spectral fire.

He didn’t gloat. Didn’t speak.

It was over.

Or so everyone thought.

Until Torkas looked up. Eyes wild, lips twisted.

He laughed.

Not the manic scream of a beaten man, but a low, deep chuckle.

"Don’t tell me... that’s all."

He grabbed Ian’s arm.

The same arm that held the dagger buried in his gut.

"I’m just starting..." his eyes flared with crimson mana, "...to enjoy myself."

CRACK.

The sound echoed across the coliseum like a gunshot.

Torkas had broken Ian’s arm like a twig.

The dagger dropped. Ian screamed—not just in pain, but in shock. His wrist bent at an unnatural angle, bone poking through skin.

The crowd erupted into gasps and shrieks.

"Oh gods—he broke him!"

"HOW is that bastard still standing?!"

"He had a hole in his stomach! What is that monster?!"

"Frenzy Surge—a special state he enters," someone whispered, "he’s in it. The bastard’s mutated..."

Torkas surged back to his feet, Soulflame wound still burning but his strength surging now, red mana coating his body in a barely visible haze.

His grin was mad.

His next words were a snarl: "Come on, little rat. Show me how a demon really dies."

---

Above, Velrosa gripped the armrest of her seat hard enough to splinter wood.

Eli’s expression hadn’t changed.

But his eyes narrowed.

"Ian..." he whispered under his breath, "...now’s when you start killing."

---

Down in the Arena, Ian knelt in the sand, broken arm cradled, blood dripping from his temple.

The pain was blinding.

The fear... was not.

There was only stillness.

And in that stillness—a voice.

Not Eli’s. Not the crowd.

A voice older than either.

His own, swearing he won’t stop till he gained immeasurable strength—till he rose.

Ian’s eyes widened.

Then narrowed.

His broken arm began to twitch. Bones cracked—not just from damage, but as they reset. Slowly. Brutally.

Regeneration.

The audience could only stare.

As Ian stood.

As his shoulder popped back into place with a sickening snap.

As the Soulflame burned brighter.

And Vowbreaker pulsed—once, twice—hungry.

Ian exhaled.

And began to walk forward.

"You’re going to die regardless...so why piss me off first" Ian muttered with clenched teeth.

Then a wave of fear fell upon the Arena.

"Rise"