Chapter 703 – Tragic Hero VS ill Fated Young Master [Part 1]
He was thrown again, rolling across the floor in a sequence that would make mortal martial arts novels proud.
Lux flipped back to his feet, panting dramatically.
"Is that... all you’ve got?" he declared with forced arrogance.
The angel roared again and swung horizontally.
Lux ducked, sliding beneath the blade while flicking his fingers.
"Telekinesis."
Invisible force yanked floating debris toward the angel, smashing fragnts into its armored chest.
The monster staggered convincingly.
Lux followed by unleashing ten Demonic Orbs. They slamd into the angel’s wings and exploded in perfectly choreographed bursts.
The angel retaliated by slamming its sword into the ground, sending a shockwave that blasted Lux backward again.
Lux spun midair, landed on one knee, and coughed dramatically.
[That’s too dramatic, sir]
"Bleh," he muttered. "I am really committing to the performance."
The angel lifted its sword skyward, channeling a massive pillar of holy energy downward. Lux teleported repeatedly, dodging the blasts in rapid succession before lunging forward with blinding speed. His daggers slashed across the angel’s chest plating, leaving glowing scars.
They clashed again.
Steel. Aura. Explosions. Teleports. Wing strikes. Barrier bursts. Telekinesis debris storms.
All real.
All dangerous.
And yet layered with theatrical exaggeration. Overblown knockbacks. Dramatic blood spitting. Pitiful kneeling recoveries like they were starring in the worst tragic cultivation drama ever written.
Lux staggered backward, clutching his chest dramatically.
"Impossible... your holy protein shakes have surpassed my financial strength..." he muttered loudly.
[Please stop narrating your own injuries.]
"No," Lux whispered. "This is art."
The angel advanced again, sword raised for a finishing strike.
Lux wiped fake blood from his lip and raised his daggers, stance wobbling convincingly as if he was reaching his limit.
Inside, he counted.
Waiting.
They needed the illusion caster to believe the fight was nearing conclusion.
They needed the trap owner to reveal themselves.
The angel roared and charged.
Lux braced.
"Co on then," he said quietly. "Let’s sell the finale."
And the battle continued.
The monstrous angel charged again, wings flaring like a cathedral about to collapse in slow motion. Its sword carved downward with a blinding arc of radiant force that split the limbo ground in a glowing fracture line that stretched into infinity.
Lux twisted sideways, Agility flaring through his muscles as he teleported three tis in rapid succession. He reappeared above the angel’s shoulder, daggers igniting with erald greed fire, and slashed downward in a cross pattern designed to look devastating and slightly overdramatic.
The blades connected with a shower of light and sparks. The angel staggered backward, roaring in a way that felt ninety percent authentic and ten percent theatrical projection.
Vizreel clearly understood the assignnt.
The angel slamd its sword into the ground and unleashed a shockwave that launched Lux across the battlefield again. Lux spun midair, wings flaring as he slamd into a floating staircase fragnt and rolled across it like a disgraced martial prodigy who just realized his rival studied harder.
He coughed.
Spat blood.
Very convincingly.
"Your... your strength..." Lux rasped dramatically. "It defies quarterly projections..."
[I do not understand what is happening.]
Lux flipped back onto his feet anyway, clutching his side like his organs were currently negotiating exit clauses.
The angel stepped forward, each movent echoing with tragic hero energy. It raised its sword, chest heaving like it carried the burden of ten thousand divine expectations and at least two unresolved backstory flashbacks.
Lux narrowed his eyes.
"Alright," he muttered under his breath. "Let’s escalate the nonsense."
He snapped his fingers.
"Demonic Orbs."
Fifty black spheres exploded into existence around him, spinning wildly like caffeinated cots with severe anger managent issues. They humd, vibrated, and began bouncing across the battlefield with unpredictable trajectories.
"Go," Lux commanded.
The orbs launched themselves toward the angel in chaotic swarms. So exploded on impact. Others ricocheted off wing armor and rebounded like furious rubber balls of financial violence.
The angel staggered backward under the barrage, wings folding defensively as it roared and swept its sword horizontally, detonating several orbs midair in bursts of radiant backlash.
Lux used the distraction to teleport forward, appearing directly in front of the angel. He unleashed a flurry of dagger strikes, each slash carving glowing infernal debt marks across the angel’s armor plating.
The angel retaliated with a backhand strike that hit Lux square in the chest. He flew backward again, spinning dramatically before crashing into the obsidian ground and skidding like soone who had deeply offended gravity.
He groaned loudly.
Rolled onto one knee.
Coughed more blood.
"Still... still not enough..." Lux wheezed, glaring upward with appropriately tragic villain pride.
[You are intentionally overacting.]
"Art requires sacrifice," Lux whispered.
The angel stepped forward again, dragging its sword across the ground in a spark-trailing arc. It raised the blade skyward, channeling an enormous pillar of radiant energy.
Lux raised both daggers defensively, Barrier magic flaring around him in layered erald shields.
The beam struck.
Barriers shattered in sequence like glass dominoes, each one exploding into glittering contract fragnts. Lux was thrown backward yet again, smashing into floating debris and tumbling across the terrain in a series of very committed suffering rolls.
He pushed himself up slowly, breathing ragged, armor flickering like it was barely holding together.
Across the battlefield, the angel staggered slightly, lowering its sword. It placed one knee on the ground like a tragic paladin who just realized destiny was a group project.
Vizreel was going all in.
The angel pressed one hand against its chest, breathing heavily, wings trembling like they were weighed down by divine guilt and plot convenience.
Lux stared at it for a mont.
"...You are really committing," he muttered quietly.
The angel rose again, lifting its sword for what was clearly ant to be the final confrontation.
Lux wiped blood from his lip, forcing himself upright with exaggerated difficulty. His wings drooped slightly. His daggers trembled in his grip like he was seconds from collapse.
They stared at each other across the broken limbo battlefield.
Silence stretched.
Floating debris slowed its drift like even reality wanted to watch the climax of this extrely questionable stage play.
Lux inhaled sharply.
"Very well," he declared hoarsely. "If I must fall... I will fall fighting!"
The angel roared back, raising its sword high like a tragic hero accepting inevitable doom.
They charged.
User Comments
0 comments from readers