Born in Blood

Chapter 77 Mask

Jane smirked.

She waved her hand, a wall of condensed water gushed forth as a shield.

Jacob's attack pierced through the wall as though it was paper, but just then, Jane pivoted her foot and dodged.

As soon as Jacob flew past, a crackling water-whip lashed across his jaw, cracking more than a few teeth and causing his eardrums to pop.

Inertia flung the noble towards the arena borders, which he spat out a mouthful of blood, cursing with any word he can find.

Jane didn't dare let the noble rest, shooting at him with lithe but swift steps.

Before she could release a barrage of wild lashes, Jacob's spear whizzed through the air – glowing brighter by the second – grazing her cheek as she attempted to dodge.

'Shi—'

Boom!

A deafening explosion bellowed through the arena, smashing against the wall of force and creating a cloud of smog that dulled all sight.

The crowd held their breath, and the announcer's calls abruptly stopped.

Meanwhile, the Yin & Yang Sisters shot at the stage, finding Jane's charred and bloodied body.

They nodded in synchrony, each taking out a large cloth that corresponded to their white and black colors – the cloth clung to Jane's body and entered her wounds, steadily healing them.

Charred flesh and grievous wounds started to regrow with renewed muscle tissue.

By then, the dust cloud settled, and the crowd erupted to a wild cheer, with the Crigate nobles visibly distraught.

Servants ran towards the stage with a stretcher, escorting Jane's body back inside.

Jacob raised his hands in triumph, waving at the crowd with a toothless and maimed smile – which the Sisters quickly healed not long after.

"The first round… goes to Jacob Ovlar!"

///

Liam stared at the screen with a grimace.

Inscribed items were dangerous… and currently, Liam had none. Not to mention, his current fighting style consisted of getting up close and personal, with the exception of his Dark Chains.

Any explosive item could put him in a difficult spot.

'She could've easily won that fight, too. All she had to do was keep her distance and use her spells,' Liam thought, noticing multiple flaws in how the two nobles fought.

Although he was still young, he'd accumulated an amazing understanding of battle and martial arts.

Realizing something, Liam's grimace grew deeper..

'...They're keeping their abilities hidden. They have to. The other contenders are studying their fighting styles and taking notes,' Liam guessed. He was no exception, either.

'I'll have to limit my own usage too, but that means I'll have to win with sheer prowess.'

///

Before long, the second bout began, Logras versus Vence, purple robe against green, Nick Lemross facing Sam Shero.

Nick was a handsome young man with well-styled blonde hair, wielding a needle-thin rapier.

On the other hand, Sam was skinny, but lean. He didn't wield any weapons, but a dangerous aura covered him.

"Begin!"

Straight away, the clash started viciously.

Sam blurred, reappearing ahead of Nick with his feet bursting into roaring red flames, smashing against the latter's rapier.

A series of wide flaming leg kicks followed, each strike creating a bang louder than the first. Sam's fighting style bore similarities with capoeira, using his arms to maneuver his raging lower body.

The swings aimed for Nick's lower body, mainly the knees and abdomen.

Nick blocked those attacks and created distance, attempting to counter with quick stabs. The blazing flames burned parts of his robe, burning his skin.

Nick was shoved to the edges of the arena, when his eyes turned severe – his rapier glowed white, a gust of wind enveloping his blade and body, creating a loud whirring noise.

Sam's eyes widened as he attempted to fall back… but it was too late.

Nick's rapier looked formless, creating gashes and holes all over Sam's body.

The spell seemed to cause him pain judging by his strained expression, but the speedy and destructive nature of the technique pushed him forward.

In a panic, Sam tried to cause his body to burst into flames as defense, but the wind overpowered it.

Before long, it was over.

"The victor… Nick Lemross!"

///

The bouts continued one by one.

Liam watched intently with a slight scowl.

Almost every noble participating had some sort of forged or inscribed item… not to mention their massive arsenal of spells they kept hidden.

Even Elsa and Ian fought, winning by the skin of their teeth and only because of the aforementioned advantages.

Liam looked disgusted seeing how joyous they looked from attention.

'Please tell me I get matched against one of them,' Liam hoped.

Before long, a servant knocked on his door.

"Sir? It's time for your bout."

Liam fixed his hair and pulled it back, tucking it behind a small black hood he found in one of the cabinets.

The servant shuddered as Liam exited his room, pulling his fearful gaze away.

"P-Please step on the formation whenever you're called, sir."

Liam had chosen… an unusual mask.

It was resembled a red Japanese 'Oni' mask – a wrathful expression on it – that covered the entirety of his face. The slitted eye sockets allowed the King's Eye to eerily glow golden within the shadowy interior.

"I-Is there any mantle you have, sir?" the worker asked with his gaze forward.

Liam pursed his lips behind the mask and lingered, before answering with a hidden grin:

"Blood Demon."

Nodding, the worker whispered something to the black beaded bracelet on his right arm.

"Let the eighth bout begin!" Whyte screamed passionately from the top of his lungs. "Originating from the Royce family... dashingly handsome and equally charming, the one and only, Ivan Royce!"

A handsome young man bearing the Royce family features appeared. Unlike the previous contenders, Ivan wore an entire suit of inscribed golden armor – dual-wielding a set of expensive looking sabers.

"Ladies and gentlemen… as you all might've known, every year, we allow one person without a family backing to participate. Please welcome… William, the 'Blood Demon'!"

Liam stepped on the formation with a soft sigh, and instantly, his surroundings changed.

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