Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 455

Chapter 455: *Graceful Dance Of Solitude!*
The atmosphere was thick with tension as Dylan and Deamon squared off in the open space, their spiritual energy crackling in the air. The ground beneath them seemed to pulse with anticipation, a testament to the immense power these two warriors wielded.

All, both warriors of Chiron and the remaining senators watched closely.

Dylan’s eyes blazed with determination as he drew his broadsword, the blade shimmering with a radiant light of his stone rank. Deamon mirrored his movements, unsheathing his thinner, elegant sword that glowed with a fierce intensity. They locked gazes, the blood oath they had taken binded not just their fates, but also the fates of those around them.

With a roar, Dylan lunged forward, his spiritual energy surging through his body. His broadsword came down in a powerful arc, aiming for Deamon’s shoulder. After all, this was his friend and brother he had grown up with. the goal was to win the fight, and not kill him.

However, it was clear to Deamon that Dylan had misplaced thoughts.

Deamon deftly sidestepped, the ground where Dylan’s sword struck exploding in a shower of dust and gravel. The force of the impact sent tremors through the earth.

Deamon countered the attack with a swift thrust, his sword slicing through the air with pinpoint precision.

Dylan was fast. He immediately parried the attack, their swords clashing with a resounding clang that echoed through the barren land. Sparks flew from the collision, illuminating their fierce expressions.

This was the true first strike of their blades.

There was an ancient saying that ‘One did not truly know a person until they had battled them’. The striking of swords could definitely reveal secrets, and in this one strike, both men had sensed something.

It was something deep within them that had not been there before.

At this moment, Deamon could not help but ask, “Why do you fight, Dylan? Is Prince Chiron not enough? With him, we, mere orphans at the side of the country may climb to be generals, and bring honor to the Vandorian Kingdom. With all we have been through, why will you fight against such blessing that has lifted us from Grass to Grace!?”

“Because its wrong!” Dylan responded.

“Wrong!?” Deamon chuckled as he attacked again.

The two warriors moved with blinding speed, their spiritual energies clashing in a dazzling display of power.

“What do you mean wrong? It is already a Fucked up world. We are only fighting for our own survival. For our peace. If we don’t fight, another will come for our heads. Its a Dog eat Dog world. But I guess, that does not exist in the fairytale of your mind.”

*DANG!* The ring of metal striking metal rank out.

“But you don’t know that. If we stop the killing and option for peace, no one will have a reason to attack us. The entire world can live in peace.” Dylan attacked again.

Deamon shook his head, “You are really on a different flavor of delusion. The last time I saw you like this, you were willing to dive your head into pig shit, just to prove your love for that village slut Carren!” Deamon’s eyes suddenly widened a bit in realization. “Wait a minute, don’t tell me that you have done it again. You met another slut, didn’t you. Only this time around, YOU forgot that its your fucking FOOD!”

Those words excited Dylan’s anger, and his eyes seem to blaze a bit. The pressure both mentally, emotionally and physically, was actually making his Dantain boil with power. this was an incredible feature of his S-Grade Dantain. Pressure of any kind only added to his growth.

“MOMO is not food!” He smashed against Deamon with his sword, nearly cutting off his shoulder in the process as he pushed him back. But Deamon too, did not want to lose.

Dylan’s attacks were relentless, each swing of his broadsword backed by his superior cultivation level. He unleashed a flurry of strikes, each one cutting through the air with lethal intent. Deamon, however, was a master of finesse. He weaved and dodged with grace, his thinner sword dancing in intricate patterns as he parried Dylan’s assaults.

After all, Deamon was one that used his brain a lot. He knew that it physical combat or strength, he would not be able to beat Dylan. However, since he could not catch up to Dylan in such a way, he was going to climb his own way.

And is secret was fine turning his technique, such that it was sharp enough to even tear through Dylan’s higher spiritual energy. This was the technique that he learnt. This was Deamon’s sword play.

The ground bore the brunt of their missed attacks, craters forming where their blades met the earth. Dust and gravel flew into the air, creating a haze that enveloped them. Despite the chaos, their focus never wavered.

Dylan managed to land more cuts on Deamon, crimson streaks appearing on his opponent’s body. Confidence surged within him as he pressed his advantage. “You’ve always been a step behind, Deamon!” he taunted, his voice filled with triumph.

But Deamon only smirked, his eyes narrowing with determination. “You underestimate me, Dylan. Muscles does not always win, you know.”

*Graceful Dance Of Solitude!* Deamon spoke softly. “I hope you enjoy this Dylan. I created it special for you. Anticipating a day I would need to kick your ass and truly put your fragile heart in its place!”

Those words surprised Dylan. After all, he never knew that Deamon always saw him a different light.

They had grown up together, and while Dylan was always the brute, Deamon had the brains. they were a perfect combo, and even now, Dylan could not help but remember all the fights that they had together, beating all those street rats for food, or just the two of them declaring a hang out as they territory to the other kids of the town.

They ate together, slept together, and helped each other out whenever they could. They were not related by blood, but they were indeed true brothers.

However, at the moment, Dylan was realizing Deamon’s true feelings concerning him.

All this while, it would seem like they were undercurrents, problems that the brothers never talked about, and now, those problems acted as the wedge between them.

Deamon took advantage of Dylan’s surprise. Suddenly unleashing a barrage of attacks, his sword moving with blinding speed. Each strike was precise and calculated, aimed at exploiting the smallest openings in Dylan’s defense.

Dylan’s eyes widened in surprise as he struggled to keep up with Deamon’s relentless assault. The elegant sword danced around his broadsword, finding its mark again and again. Deamon’s movements were fluid and controlled, a testament to his intense training and mastery of this sword technique.

Chiron had given them the same gift with the sword Totem, but it would seem as if Deamon was made for it.

As the battle raged on, Dylan realized that Deamon had truly not been idle. Despite his superior spiritual energy, Dylan found himself on the defensive, his confidence waning.

On the other hand. Deamon’s attacks were relentless, each strike pushing him closer to the edge.

In a final, desperate move, Dylan attempted a powerful overhead strike. But Deamon was ready. With a swift, decisive motion, he parried the attack and countered with a spinning somersault. His sword sliced through the air, the force of his spiritual energy propelling him forward.

Dylan barely had time to react as Deamon’s sword connected with his broadsword, and then suddenly shattering it into pieces.

The force of the blow sent Dylan sprawling to the ground, his weapon useless. He looked up to see Deamon standing over him, the tip of his sword pressed against his neck.

Breathing heavily, Deamon’s eyes burned with a fierce determination. “It’s over, Dylan,” he said, his voice steady. “You can’t defeat me. Not now.”

Dylan lay on the ground, his body bruised and battered. He could feel the cool steel of Deamon’s spiritual sword against his skin. The soldiers around them watched in stunned silence.

To their surprise, Deamon had actually done it. Deamon, the one who had the least chance of wining the fight, had actually won it….