Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!-Chapter 167: Pyramid Of Dominion! (20)

The moment Creed stepped onto the arena’s smooth surface, the badges on both their chests pulsed, chiming in cold, mechanical unison.

[Challenge for the Throne has begun!]

A faint crimson glow enveloped the arena, sealing them inside a circular domain surrounded by ghostly murals depicting forgotten gods and champions.

The timer hovered behind Nicholas, ticking down a glowing countdown that read:

5:01... 5:00...

There were no words exchanged. Creed’s gaze was locked, predatory and composed. Nicholas, standing relaxed yet alert, responded with a slight smirk.

He knew he had the advantage. The artifact embedded in his glove pulsed, its predictive edge humming at full capacity.

Creed didn’t need to know how it worked. He could feel it. Nicholas was somehow half a second ahead.

But Creed didn’t hesitate. There was no time for hesitation!

Bang!

His spear domain exploded outward in a pulse of red, expanding like a tide across the arena and warping the space within.

His foot skidded slightly as he stepped into a lunging strike, activating his spear technique.

Pierce!

Swoosh!

A blood-red streak of power lanced forward with pinpoint accuracy. It tore through the air with shocking might.

Nicholas, however, didn’t dodge. At least not in the normal way.

His path flared and he took a step to the front, moving directly towards the attack, yet something absurd happened the next instant.

Creed’s spear passed straight through Nicholas like he was an afterimage, only for the real Nicholas to appear a few feet away from creed’s position!

Shit!

Creed cursed and pivoted, just as Nicholas reappeared at his blind spot with a short blade descending.

Swoosh!

Creed ducked under the sword, using a burst from his Path of Freedom to float sideways jerkily, but it saved his head.

The first exchange was a draw!

The moment Creed regained balance, he didn’t waste breath. He snapped his spear into a double thrust, activating "Double Pierce," laced with his Path of Killing.

Swoosh! Swoosh!

Two scarlet streaks slashed forward in an X, one aimed high, the other low, to test Nicholas’ guard.

Nicholas flicked his blade down to deflect the lower streak, then used his artifact to lean slightly back, anticipating the upper slash milliseconds before it even fully formed.

The spear streak grazed his cheek but failed to land. Creed gritted his teeth. That artifact was a monster!

It allowed Nicholas to see a few milliseconds into the future. That was truly broken!

Nicholas countered with a wide horizontal slash, but it was bait—Creed recognized the stance.

Instead of parrying and exposing himself to the real attack layered behind the first, he lunged back and anchored himself by stomping down, letting the mirage of a colossal mountain form behind him through his Path of the Mountain.

Ooooom!

The wide blow clanged off the mountain-like defense. Sparks scattered. Creed didn’t wait.

From the grounded position, he launched upward again with a burst of "Wings of Freedom," soaring like a comet.

His speed was absolutely insane. He closed the gap in the blink of an eye.

Nicholas read the trajectory and blurred, vanishing with his bizarre movement art, only to reappear right above Creed, midair, his sword raised.

But Creed had been baiting too. He let the weightlessness of Wings of Freedom give him control mid-air, then spun, twirling his spear like a wheel and bringing it up just in time to clash with the sword overhead.

Bang!

The shockwave cracked the air. Both were flung backward. Mutual trade. Draw again!

Nicholas flipped in the air, hurling three mirror-like discs from his palm.

Screeech!

They shimmered with twisted energy and angled midair, bending unnaturally toward Creed.

Creed’s eyes flared. He twisted his body and focused everything into a single "Pierce" infused with his Path of Killing.

One red streak exploded outward and detonated all three discs at once with a sharp crack. Creed landed in a roll and barely evaded the destruction.

"Take this!"

Nicholas pressed the moment, wanting to seize the initiative.

As Creed stood, the arena floor beneath him reflected his own spear domain back at him—a use of Nicholas’ Reflective Ward Art.

It was like suddenly standing in a field of red spears all aimed at him. Creed reacted with a stomp.

"Mountain!" The mirage reformed; slow, heavy, unyielding. The spears clashed against the phantom barrier but failed to penetrate.

He gasped, sweat trickling. That one had cost him. Activating his paths so crudely was quite draining, especially when he was literally maxing them out for every move!

It was too taxing for him to maintain for long. He needed to break the momentum.

Bang!

Creed took a step forward, then vanished in a wild surge of multicolored light—Wings of Freedom again.

He zipped above Nicholas and hurled his spear downward like a meteor. But Nicholas was ready.

Swoosh!

He dodged just in time with Paradox Step and slashed at Creed’s back mid-fall, but Creed had released his spear midair and used the freedom path to hover momentarily, flipping upside down and evading the slash.

He dove down once again like a bird, grasped the falling spear and redirected it sideward again!

The near-hit sliced across Nicholas’ shoulder, but the first blood had been drawn!

Nicholas grimaced and held up two fingers. Two Reflection Wards activated—one on the floor and one overhead.

Shua! Shua!

Creed’s next "Double Pierce" bounced between them like a ricochet shot, then Nicholas suddenly twisted them, causing the reflected streaks to boomerang back at Creed!

Bang!

He blocked one, but the other grazed his side. They were playing chess with their lives now!

Creed backed up and gathered power. His domain flared crimson. He slammed his spear down, unleashing a burst of killing intent so sharp the arena seemed to tremble.

Boom!

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. He reached out and reversed Creed’s momentum with his Path of reflection, causing the energy to warp and hurl Creed downwards instead of forward!

Bang!

Creed crashed to the hard floor and coughed blood. He was panting now, every muscle in his body strained, every nerve alight.

He rolled, stood, and felt something deep within him. It was like a rhythm. His heart. His intent. His anger. His desire to kill and move freely and endure.

He felt it in his bones, in the grip of his spear, in the trail of blood on the ground. All of it whispered the same thing: Killing is not just thrust. It’s inevitability. It’s the art of closing every path until death is the only one left!

He inhaled.

And the Path of Killing opened its eyes to him.

Oooom!

His aura changed. No, condensed. Like the air around him collapsed in, shrinking, sharpening, until it felt like the tip of a spear.

His domain pulsed, then twisted inward into a spiraling vortex around him, centering his power, his intent. His will.

Then came the art.

Creed didn’t name it. He didn’t need to.

He just moved!

Bang!

A single step. But this time, the air screamed. His feet barely touched the ground as he zipped forward.

The entire arena cracked behind him like a cannon had gone off. Nicholas’ eyes widened!

The first real hit landed!

Rumble!

A crimson spear streak that was too fast to see and too vicious to reflect, cut across Nicholas’s chest and forced him into a backward slide.

His boots ripped into the ground, sparks flying. Blood spilled from the large wound on his chest and for the first time, Creed pressed the offense!

He flew.

Swoosh!

Wings of Freedom flared, adding impossible mobility to his strikes.

His spear danced like a chain of red comets, pushing Nicholas back with insane ease.

Nicholas tried to counter with Paradox Step, but Creed’s instincts had changed. His spear moved like it could smell blood.

It struck at reflection angles, ricocheted off surfaces on purpose, used the rebounds to make wild curves.

Each time Nicholas blinked away, Creed was already there. The spear was like an inevitable end that couldn’t be avoided!

It was like a line of death!

Still, Creed wasn’t in the best condition either.

Every breath hurt now. Wings of Freedom was ripping his body apart inside. His muscles were twitching, fingers cramping. But he couldn’t stop now.

Nicholas backpedaled. "You’re finally dancing."

Creed spun his spear. "Took me long enough to find the rhythm."

Then came the final clash.

Nicholas suddenly stilled. His aura flickered wildly, like a dozen broken mirrors. "You pushed me far enough. But this is where I cut the floor beneath your feet."

He raised his hand, and the arena itself cracked.

"Shattered Reality."

The finisher art!

Shatter!

The Reflective Ward exploded outward into a dome of warped space. Every surface inverted. Every line bent.

The world twisted into a chaotic funhouse of angles where up was down, forward was sideways, and the spear tip no longer pointed at anything real.

Creed’s senses rebelled. His domain shook. His spear vanished in the mess of mirrors.

How do you stab someone in a world where nothing is where it seems?!

But he had his art now.

His answer wasn’t to find the right direction. It was to erase the wrong ones.

There is only one path that leads to death, and his art erases all the others.

This is what the Line of Death embodies: a focused, lethal inevitability where there is only one outcome; death!

Creed’s aura turned silent. He closed his eyes.

And then he stepped forward, not by guessing, but by killing all possibilities except one.

The world snapped.

One red streak.

Straight, true, final.

The air collapsed behind it. The mirage of mountains formed like a wall behind his back were shielding him, anchoring him.

Wings of Freedom erupted once more, just enough to guide the spear’s tip with inhuman sharpness.

It met Nicholas’s chest right at the exact point where reality was still real.

There was a pause.

Then came the collapse.

Boom!

Nicholas was flung back across the arena, skidding and coughing up blood. His reflective aura broke apart like shattering glass. Shattered Reality dissipated with a hiss of dying power.

He laughed. Actually laughed. Blood on his lips, teeth pink.

"Well," he said, rising weakly, "that was unexpected."

Creed stood there, knees buckling. His body was wrecked. That last burst had drained him to his soul. But he didn’t move.

Nicholas raised both hands in surrender. "You win. For now."