Welcome to the Innocent World - Chapter 145

Chapter 145: Cutiepie vs Seraphine

The arena was alive with tension, yet silent as death. My eyes locked with Seraphine’s, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to fade. It was just the two of us, warriors standing. awaiting to unleash everything we had.

The announcer, loud as ever, broke the silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, the question looms—who will emerge victorious in this clash of titans?”

The audience erupted, voices clashing with majority taking my name.

“CUTIE-PIE”

“CUTIE-PIE”

“CUTIE-PIE”

“CUTIE-PIE”

“CUTIE-PIE”

Seraphine tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint, almost teasing smile. “It seems you’ve gained some fan following in just a few days,” she remarked, her tone filled with both amusement and challenge.

I shrugged, meeting her gaze without hesitation. “Yeah,” I said bluntly, “because I’m strong.”

Her smile widened, and there was a flicker of excitement in her eyes. “Don’t hold back,” she warned. “I hope you’ll attack with everything you’ve got.”

“Don’t worry,” I replied, my voice steady. “I will.”

With that, she gripped the hilt of her sword, tossing the scabbard aside carelessly. The blade gleamed in the sunlight as she pointed it directly at me.

“Prepare yourself.” she commanded.

The crowd murmured in awe, whispering that Seraphine might also have a chance.

With a deep sighhh, I reached for the knot at my waist. Slowly, deliberately, I loosened it, letting the fabric fall to the ground. For the first time, I would draw my sword—a moment I had delayed for far too long.

The sound of metal scraping against the sheath was a low, screech that cut through the silence like a whisper of death. Every pair of eyes in the arena was glued to my motion.

Whispers break through the crowd.

“Look at the color of that sword!” people started whispering, their voice filled with awe.

“Yeah, I have never seen anyone using something like that.”

Even the Queen, seated high above on her throne, leaned forward. Her eyes, wide with astonishment, fixated on the blade as though she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

When the sword finally came free, it caught the light, revealing a shade so dark it seemed to absorb it. A black blade—ominous, otherworldly, and magnificent.

I held the sword before me, before lowering it casually to my side. My stance was relaxed but my gaze was locked eyes with Seraphine.

“Let the first semi-final begin!” the announcer yelled, his voice cutting through the silence between us.

The gong resonated across the arena, and Seraphine jumped into action immediately.

Bending her knees, she burst forward like a bolt of lightning, her feet barely touching the ground. Her movements were fluid, her speed remarkable.

In a split second, she closed the distance leaped into the air, her blade gleaming under the setting sunlight as it came crashing down toward me. I sidestepped effortlessly, her strike missing me by inches as it struck the ground with a metallic clang, sending dust flying.

“Seraphine wastes no time!” the announcer exclaimed. “She’s already on the offensive, showing that determination we’ve come to love!”

Landing lightly, Seraphine was already moving, her sword cutting through the air in a wide arc toward my side. I drew my sword in one smooth motion, intercepting her strike with a sharp metallic clash. Sparks flew as our blades collided, and we locked eyes briefly.

“Good speed,” I remarked, my tone calm, almost indifferent.

“And you’re still as cold as ever,” she shot back, her lips curling into a playful grin.

She jumped back, creating space, but before I could press forward, she attacked again, her movements fluid and unpredictable. Striking high, then low, then spinning for a diagonal slash, she was relentless. I dodged and parried each attack, my movements precise and measured.

“She’s not letting up, folks!” the announcer’s voice boomed, filled with excitement. “Cutiepie’s defense is being tested like never before!”

The crowd roared louder with every exchange.

“You’re good,” I said, sidestepping another swing. “But you’re not giving me anything new, Seraphine.”

Her grin faltered and she looked more serious as her strikes grew more desperate. Her breathing was heavier now, her movements losing the sharpness they had at the start.

“Cutiepie is analyzing her!” the announcer commented. “Can Seraphine keep up this level of intensity?”

“You lecture too much,” she muttered, lunging forward with another thrust.

I blocked the strike and kicked her back, my stance shifting as I decided to change the tempo.

“My turn,” I said coldly.

I stepped forward, swinging my blade in a heavy arc. She raised her sword to block, but the impact sent her stumbling back a few steps. Her arms shook slightly from the force.

Her eyes widened, and I could see the thought running through her mind.

“That’s… heavy,” she muttered under her breath.

The announcer picked up on her struggle. “And now Cutiepie is on the offensive! Look at the power behind those strikes!”

I didn’t give her time to recover, pressing forward with a series of heavy strikes. Each blow forced her to block, her feet skidding against the ground as she struggled to hold her stance.

THUD!!!

THUD!!!

THUD!!!

THUD!!!

THUD!!!

THUD!!!

Her breathing grew labored, and a bead of sweat rolled down her temple. Yet, she didn’t falter. She blocked one of my strikes and took a quick step back to regain her footing.

“You’re strong,” she admitted between gasps, her grip tightening on her sword.

I tilted my head slightly, a smirk playing on my lips. “Stronger than you expected, huh?”

She didn’t respond, instead lunging forward with a sudden burst of speed.

“CHARGE!!!” She yelled, as her blue aura surges up and with lightning charged around it, it came straight towards me.

Her blade cut through the air toward my shoulder, but I sidestepped and countered with a horizontal slash. She managed to block, but the force knocked her back again.

The announcer’s voice cut through the tension. “This is incredible! Seraphine’s speed and agility versus Cutiepie’s overwhelming strength! Who will come out on top?”

The crowd was on its feet, their cheers deafening.

Seraphine was visibly tiring now, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing.

“Huff* You really stopped dodged that as if it was nothing….” she said, looking at her sword.

Her movements had lost their earlier sharpness, and I knew the match was nearing its climax.

She lunged again, swinging her sword in a desperate attempt to break through my guard. I blocked it effortlessly, stepping into her space and delivering a powerful downward strike. She raised her blade to block, but the impact sent her sprawling to the ground.

“Hufff…Hufff….Arghh-”

She landed on her back, her arms spread wide, gasping for air. Her sword was still in her grasp, but it hung loosely in her hand.

I approached her slowly, my expression unreadable. The crowd’s cheers were louder now as it felt like the end.

But in that moment, it felt like everything else faded away.

Standing over her, I raised my sword high before bringing it down beside her face, the blade sinking into the ground with a resonant thud.

The dust settled around us, and the metallic hum of my sword lingered in the air.

Seraphine’s silver eyes met mine, her gaze fierce despite her exhaustion. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but she didn’t look away.

The crowd erupted into cheers once more, their voices filling the arena.

The announcer’s voice boomed over the noise. “What an exchange! Seraphine is down, is this the end of the match!?”

Our eyes remained locked, the world around us blurring into insignificance.

Seraphine staggered backward, Her sword trembled in her hand, the weight of defeat pressing heavily on her shoulders.

“There’s no way I can defeat someone like you,” she said, her voice shaky yet filled with reluctant resignation.

My face over her, unmoving, my face a cold mask of indifference. “That’s the best you’ve got?” I asked, my tone void of any sympathy, each word like the edge of a blade.

She gulped, her expression faltering. A faint flush crept over her face, a mixture of shame and anger.

“Is this all the Damascus family blood amounts to?”

Her eyes widened in shock, her grip tightening on her sword. I didn’t let up. I went closer, my voice dropping to a low, deliberate tone, each word cutting deeper than the last.

Our mouths close enough to feel our breaths. The audience looking at us and wondering what are we doing.

“Your father was a member of the royal knights, a man revered by many. And look at you now… so pitiful.” I let my gaze sweep over her, pausing to meet her eyes that was filling up. “Still nowhere near becoming even a normal knight.”

“I- ”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her body trembled, tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill.

“And what of your promise?” I continued, my voice sharp enough to pierce armor. “Weren’t you the one who vowed to restore the Damascus name to its former glory? To erase the shame your family carries?”

The first tear slipped down her cheek, then another. Yet, through the haze of pain and humiliation, something shifted. Her tears streaked down her face. Her wide desolate eyes igniting with a flame born of frustration and anger.

Her breathing steadied, her trembling ceased, and her grip on her sword tightened. The tears didn’t stop, but they no longer signaled despair—they were a catalyst, fueling the fire burning within her.

I stepped back, lifting my sword and gaze never leaving hers.

“Show me, then,” I said coldly. “Show me that you are more than the disgrace everyone believes you to be.”

Her knuckles turned white as she raised her sword again.