Chapter 675: Controlling Negative Energy.
The arena pulsed like a beating heart. The air was heavy, saturated not only with mana, sweat, and blood, but with something darker. Something that didn’t belong in this world.
Strax stood, watching the circle where the two warriors still took turns striking violent blows, each immersed in their own darkness. The black smoke pouring from their bodies seemed to have a will of its own, trying to escape the protective runes. The audience saw nothing but an exotic spectacle, a rare magic perhaps. But Strax knew.
This was demonic energy.
And, like a flame spreading across a dry field, it wasn’t just there.
As he closed his eyes again, expanding his aura like an invisible net, Strax began to feel. One by one, the dark spots lit up in his perception. There weren’t just two. Not three. Not five.
There were many.
In the stands, hidden under cloaks and ordinary clothes. Among the competitors awaiting their turn. Even among the scribes, there were dark spots, small but consistent. It was as if an entire squad of demons had infiltrated this tournament, carefully spread out, each masking their true presence.
Strax’s smile slowly widened.
“Heh… So that’s it,” he murmured, the golden glow in his eyes flickering like flames. “What a nest of worms we have here.”
His hunger turned to excitement. This was no longer a tournament. It was a hunt.
The fight below came to an abrupt end. The exhausted spearman attempted one last desperate blow, but was felled by the black claws that pierced his defense and threw him to the ground. The runes glowed red, sealing defeat, but the audience roared in approval, as if they had just witnessed a legendary battle. The thin man, shrouded in dark smoke, calmly withdrew, hiding the energy within his body once more.
Few realized what had truly happened. Few, except Strax. And the other strongmen, who exchanged silent glances, some suspicious, others disturbed.
The scribe raised his voice.
“Next fight! Victor versus… Valen Dros!”
The name reverberated through the hall. The crowd immediately stirred. Strax’s last fight had been so overwhelming that many wanted to see just how strong he was. Others, however, whispered about Valen. He wasn’t a well-known competitor, but rumors had it he came from an obscure family, a clan with no clear records, and that he possessed forbidden techniques.
Strax didn’t need rumors.
He had already sensed it.
His next opponent was tainted. One of the demons in disguise.
It was the perfect moment.
Strax stood up, walking unhurriedly. Each step reverberated like a drum. The audience screamed, cheered, but he heard nothing. His attention was solely on the man emerging from the other side of the arena.
Valen Dros.
He was of medium height, with straight black hair tied back in a ponytail, skin too pale for a warrior, and gray eyes that hid something cold. He wore simple, light combat gear, no heavy armor, just a short sword strapped to his side. But it was in the air around him that danger manifested itself. An invisible density, an almost undetectable pressure, as if every breath around him was contaminated.
Strax’s eyes narrowed.
“You shouldn’t be here…” he said quietly, only to himself. “But… I’m glad you are.”
They both stepped into the circle. The runes lit up blue, creating the isolated field. The crowd fell silent, the tension rising. The scribes, almost imperceptibly, were restless. They, too, had sensed something amiss.
“Let the fight begin!” the scribe announced.
The instant the voice echoed, Valen didn’t move. He merely looked up at Strax, a small, disturbing smile playing across his lips.
“I saw you watching,” he said, his voice low but clear enough to be heard in the circle. “Are you looking to pick a fight?”
Strax arched an eyebrow. His answer came like a muffled roar of thunder.
“I don’t pick fights. I break them.”
Valen let out a short, almost childish laugh.
“Good line…” He raised his hand, and something strange began to spread through the air. “But let’s see if you can sustain it.”
The ground within the circle seemed to lose its color. The blue of the runes that outlined the arena shimmered, as if being contaminated. It wasn’t demonic mana. Strax could tell the difference immediately. What Valen was emanating was something… cold. Viscous. A type of energy that drained the vitality of its surroundings, that sucked the light from the environment.
Negative energy.
Strax frowned.
“Interesting energy… but… You… are not a demon…” Strax murmured.
Valen smiled, and the veins in his right arm darkened, as if the shadow itself had infiltrated his skin.
“Come on,” he said proudly. “I will destroy you.”
The words echoed like venom. The audience, mostly laypeople, were merely awed by the exotic display, but the more sensitive among the competitors and spectators felt a shiver run down their spines. The silent swordsman looked up, his expression hardened. The scarred man stopped laughing. Even the scribes exchanged uneasy glances.
Valen raised his short sword, which now vibrated with that dark energy. It was no ordinary metal. The blade’s edge seemed to dissolve into thin air, as if it were partly in the world of the living and partly somewhere else.
“Come on,” Valen said defiantly. “Show me if your hunger is stronger than my strength!”
The scribe announced the official start again.
And then the battle began.
Valen advanced first, surprising with his speed. His sword sliced through the air in a diagonal slash, charged with negative energy. As he approached Strax, the space around the blade seemed to vibrate, as if the very life were being sucked from it.
Strax raised his arm and blocked the blow with his bare forearm. There was a crack, not of bone, but of air being compressed. The shock sent waves of black and gold rippling through the circle.
Valen backed away quickly, his eyes shining with excitement.
“Strong…” he murmured. “But it’s not just strength that counts here.”
He moved in circles, dragging the blade against the ground. Wherever he passed, the floor brightened, as if drained of its vitality. The runes of the circle trembled once more, fighting against the interference.
Strax simply stared after him, his body relaxed, as if facing a wild animal about to be slaughtered.
“This will be interesting,” he said, his tone low but firm. “Let’s see how… strong you are.”
Valen laughed out loud this time.
“What are you mumbling about? Come fight.”
He raised his left hand and, with a quick gesture, concentrated the negative energy into a dense sphere. It wasn’t like a fireball or lightning. It was… absence. A black hole that seemed to suck in even the sound around it. Then he hurled it at Strax.
The sphere streaked through the air in absolute silence.
Strax clenched his fist, his golden aura glowing. As the sphere approached, he simply punched the air.
The impact was devastating. The negative energy shattered into shards of darkness, like shattering glass, scattering black sparks that dissolved before hitting the ground.
The audience erupted in applause, unable to grasp the gravity of what had happened. To them, it was just another exotic spell being destroyed by Strax’s brutal strength.
But Valen was unfazed. On the contrary, he was smiling wider than ever.
“Amazing… you can break negative energy.” His eyes shone with an almost religious fanaticism. “You’re quite interesting!!”
Strax narrowed his eyes.
“And you… you’re just an idiot with power trying to get crazier.”
Valen wasted no time. He advanced again, but this time, his body seemed to flow in shadows. Each step left a dark trail, and the short sword slashed at unpredictable angles, sometimes solid, sometimes ethereal, as if it were impossible to determine when the blow actually struck.
Strax defended himself with monstrous precision. Every time the blade approached, he was there, intercepting it with his arm, his shoulder, or deflecting his body with minimal movements. With each block, his golden aura sizzled against the negative energy, producing sparks of light and darkness that exploded in rapid flashes.
The audience saw only a fierce exchange of blows. But within the circle, the battle was more than physical.
Valen was draining.
Every time his sword touched Strax’s body or aura, he pulled out microscopic fragments of vitality, trying to erode him bit by bit. It was a technique of attrition, a strategy made for strong enemies.
But Strax sensed it. And smiled.
“You’re trying to devour me…” he murmured, his voice deep. “How funny…”
He took a step forward, and suddenly his speed increased brutally. The air exploded as his fist hurtled toward Valen’s chest.
“Let’s play.”
Valen’s eyes widened and he tried to raise his sword, but it was too late. The punch struck his body with a crushing impact. He was thrown backward, slamming into the blue barrier. The audience roared in ecstasy, but Valen, even as he spat blood, began to laugh.
“Hahaha…! Yes…! More…!” He limping to his feet, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Give me more!”
Suddenly, Valen thrust his short sword into the ground and raised both hands.
The arena’s runes flickered violently. The ground lost even more color, and dark cracks spread across the circle. Negative energy condensed, forming twisted symbols that resembled runes, but corrupted, like a parody of sacred seals.
“What are you doing…?” Strax narrowed his eyes.
Valen laughed, his eyes glowing red for a moment.
“If I can’t win by force, I’ll suck everything! Even you!”
The negative energy exploded. The entire circle was engulfed in a wave of darkness, like a cloak that covered everything, obscuring even the audience. Utter silence fell. Within that darkness, only two points of light existed: Strax’s golden eyes.
Valen advanced in the darkness, emerging in multiple shadows, each carrying a copy of the short sword.
“Drown in the darkness!” His voice echoed, amplified, coming from all directions.
But then, a light cut through the darkness.
Strax’s aura exploded in gold, like a sun rising in the midst of an eclipse. His presence incinerated the shadows instantly.
“Pathetic.” His voice echoed, clear, sharp. “You hide behind tricks and think that’s power?”
Valen tried to retreat, but Strax was already in front of him. A punch pierced the barrier of darkness and hit his stomach, doubling him over. Before he could react, another blow hit him in the face, sending him crashing to the ground.
The audience roared with screams, but the circle trembled. The negative energy still writhed, trying to resist the golden light.
Strax stomped on Valen’s chest, crushing him to the ground.
“Tell me, worm.” His voice was low, menacing. “Where did you learn that?” Who gave you this power?
Valen coughed up blood, laughing between spasms of pain.
“Hahaha… you… you think you can stop the darkness? I don’t need masters. I… am proof… that a man can drink the same poison as demons… and survive!”
Strax leaned closer, his eyes glowing like liquid fire.
“Surviving… isn’t living. It’s rotting.”
He raised his fist, ready to smash it.
Valen, still laughing, raised his hand and tried to summon more negative energy. But Strax struck him from above, with full force.
The impact was brutal. The negative energy exploded into shards of darkness, dissipating into the air like smoke. Valen fell unconscious, his body convulsing, but alive—sustained only by the arena’s runes.
The audience erupted in cheers, cheering Strax as an unstoppable force.
But the strong knew.
Strax hadn’t just won. He had exposed something.
Demonic energy wasn’t the only corruption infiltrating that tournament. Now, men were learning to manipulate negative energy on their own.
He released mana throughout the perimeter until he found Samira… “Samira, be careful. There are some guys here… with negative energy,” he told her telepathically.
“Yeah… I can feel it.” He received the answer.