Chapter 29: Battlefield Musicals II
Never attempt to win by force what can be won by deception.
— Niccolò Machiavelli
At the far edges of Outer City.
_Boom_
Gaz crashed into the slums.
"You are more than I expected." He smiled.
"Let's make this more interesting." Zethar shrunk down to Gaz's size, not exactly his common form, but not his true form either – just a perfectly balanced mix.
"You don't seem to be as angry as the rest of them." Gaz asked.
"They treat him as a god but, personally I do not care, so long as he upholds his side of his deal, I'll fight for him." Zethar said, a flaming bone lance forming in his hand.
"However, I take it as a large hit to my pride that you were able to touch someone who I have a deal with." Zethar exerted force his leg, opening into a battle stance, his lance forward.
_Swoosh_
The two sprinted at each other.
"I came for the thrill of it, nothing else." Gaz kicked the lance away, hitting Zethar's jaw with his fist as he rotated down.
"That was a bit painful." Zethar smiled, the lance returned to his hands.
"I've few skills that do not work as AOE, so let's make this as long as possible." Zethar said the lance becoming one with him once more, the his first igniting.
Gaz nodded to Zethar's request "Don't expect me to go easy on you."
"I wasn't."
They both dashed forward, meeting at the point of their fists, creating more waves of mana that blew the already tattered slums to smithereens.
_Swoosh_
They separated once ore.
_BOOM_
_BOOM_
_BOOM_
_BOOM_
_BOOM_
_BOOM_
_BOOM_
_BOOM_
They continued like this, the land had now become akin to a desert.
"Hm." Zethar smiled, turning his leg and delivering a rotating kick.
Gaz's head smashed into the ground, but he got right back up, spitting a mouthful of blood.
"Exhaustion is understandable, you are a mortal after all." Zethar walked up to Gaz, fixing his suit.
"Those were one of the most powerful punches I've ever received." Gaz smiled, his body beginning to morph into something larger. "You guys are strong, I just wonder if you can challenge him."
"Awhoo!" There stood a 9 meter tall grey wolf.
"Does that mean that we are going all out now?" Zethar smiled, bones begun to erupt from his body, and soon a majestic bone dragon stood.
It was a dragon versus a werewolf, a battle of a century.
On the other side of the battlefield.
They didn't notice him at first.
Just another figure in the battle—hood low, steps too smooth.
Chris did.
He was just like Gaz, the skeletons feared him.
"…There." He swung his blade, killing a wolf that pounced at him.
The man stopped walking.
Looked up.
Eyesnvertical slits.
The air tightened.
Then he lunged.
No warning.
Chris barely raised his blades—Cross-Defense.
Impact.
Metal screamed. Chris slid back, boots grinding against asphalt.
"Pressure's insane," he said.
Tobey stepped in from the right—controlled, no wasted motion.
"Undisputed Sword Pierce."
The strike was clean—
The Naga bent.
Not dodged.
Bent.
The blade skimmed past his ribs.
A counter came instantly.
Tobey blocked—late.
The force knocked him off balance.
"Don't chase," Chris snapped. "He reacts."
The Naga smiled.
Then disappeared again.
Herla didn't track him.
She listened.
A shift—
She turned—blades low.
Clash.
Sparks snapped in the air as she caught the strike mid-motion.
No words.
Just movement.
Short. Efficient.
She cut—once—across the forearm.
Shallow.
But deliberate.
The Naga pulled back, eyes narrowing.
"Testing," Chris said.
"Learning," Tobey corrected.
The Naga moved again—faster.
Chris stepped forward this time.
Intercept.
"Undisputed Sword Pierce."
Direct.
The Naga twisted—again that unnatural spine—
But Chris adjusted mid-thrust.
The tip dug into his side.
Not deep.
Enough.
The Naga's expression changed.
Not anger.
Interest.
He grabbed the blade.
Tight.
Chris tried to pull—
Didn't move.
"Don't let him control the contact—" Tobey started—
Too late.
The Naga yanked.
Chris stepped in instead of resisting.
Closed the gap.
Headbutt.
A sharp crack.
The grip loosened.
Tobey was already moving.
Second angle.
Same technique.
"Undisputed Sword Pierce."
This time it landed clean—through the abdomen.
The Naga froze—
Then tightened.
The blade stalled halfway.
Muscles locking around it.
"Yeah," Tobey muttered. "He adapts fast."
Herla was already behind him.
No hesitation.
Twin blades cut low—
Hamstrings.
The legs buckled.
Just a fraction.
That was enough.
Chris drove his blade forward again—
Full extension.
Through the chest.
Precise.
No wasted motion.
The Naga's eyes widened.
His mouth opened—
No sound came out.
Tobey twisted his blade and pulled free.
Herla stepped in.
One clean motion.
The head separated.
It hit the pavement and rolled once—
Then stopped.
Silence.
Chris exhaled slowly.
"…Basic form was enough."
Tobey wiped his blade.
"Barely."
Herla watched the body a second longer.
"…It was adjusting to us."
Chris nodded.
"Next time, we don't give it time.".
Only the cracked road remained where he once stood.