Reborn with a Necromancer System
Chapter 167: Kai vs Durg - Part Two

Chapter 167: Kai vs Durg - Part Two

"What a marvellous start to the match, everyone!" the announcer cried, his voice booming magically across the stadium. "Durg, as always, surprises his foes with his unbelievable speed! But, if you were here last year, you’d know what I know... he’s only just getting started!"

The crowd roared in anticipation.

This time, it was Kai who acted first. No room to hesitate now, not against a monster like Durg.

He blurred forward, his feet cracking the tiles beneath him with each magically-enhanced step. Durg barely moved. But as they collided near the center of the arena, it became clear that the behemoth had no intention of repeating the same trick.

Instead of another wide sweep, Durg thrust his massive tower shield forward like a spear, aiming directly for Kai’s head.

Kai pivoted sharply. His body spun, and he met the incoming wall of steel with his bucker, a small, circular shield, one-tenth the size of Durg’s. The collision rattled his arm straight to the shoulder, the hardening sigil flaring against the impact. But he managed to redirect the blow just enough to slip inside Durg’s guard.

His sword cut across the armour at Durg’s arm, guided by a sharpening sigil, empowered with focused strengthening magic.

Ting!

The blade skidded off the armour with a shriek of protest. No blood. Not even a dent.

’Nothing? Shit...’ Kai thought, leaping back.

He looked at the miniscule chip in his sword and then to his opponent.

’He’s Fast. Strong. Durable. Durg would make a terrifying death knight. Possibly stronger than Joe.’ He felt a flicker of jealousy ripple through the shadow space, a whisper of resentment from his undead warrior.

"Good! Good!" Durg bellowed, flashing a grin so wide it could swallow a man whole. His voice was a celebration of battle.

"I take it you’re pleased?" Kai said, brushing dust from his tunic.

"Pleased? Now I don’t have to hold back."

Then Durg did something strange.

He planted his shield into the arena floor like a monument, the impact cracking the tiles beneath. A wave of raw mana pulsed outward, sending Kai instinctively a step back. Then, piece by piece, Durg began removing his armour.

First his shoulders, then chest, then arms.

Each piece clanged onto the floor like falling anvils, releasing tiny bursts of mana that shook the crowd into excited murmurs.

Only his greaves remained, and as he bent to remove his boots, Kai’s instincts screamed.

’Whatever this is, I can’t let him finish it.’

With a blast of wind, Kai lunged.

No honour. No time. A clean strike now might change the battle.

But his world twisted.

He was no longer moving forward.

Instead, he was still.

Airborne with a massive hand clamped around his throat mid-flight.

Durg had caught him. Even while undressing.

Kai’s triple-layered barriers buckled, straining against the sheer pressure from Durg’s iron grip.

"Where’s the honour of a warrior when you want it?" Durg rumbled.

"H-Honour?" Kai choked out, clawing at the massive fingers crushing his windpipe.

"I should just crunch your neck like a twig."

With a disappointed grunt, Durg tossed him aside like a discarded doll. Kai hit the ground hard, skidding across the cracked stone.

He coughed, rubbing his throat, eyes narrowing. "Warriors should know anything can happen on a battlefield."

"I know, little Alex," Durg growled. "And I’m about to show you what a battlefield really looks like."

The crowd roared as the announcer called out:

"There it is! Durg’s legendary training armor made from dalanite, one of the heaviest minerals known to man! He wears it to condition his body, and now that it’s off... brace yourselves! Once he’s free of that weight, he usually doesn’t stop until the semi-finals!"

Kai scanned the arena, catching a glimpse of Vepice’s face in the crowd.

Her eyes were wide. Worried.

He drew in a breath and calmed his racing pulse.

’Strength, speed, endurance... but you threw away your defense, didn’t you? You fight in a straight line. I can use that.’

Kai ducked.

A massive hand cleaved the air above his head.

’Activate: Overchannelling.’

[Overchannelling active. You may now use magic at a higher cost for higher output. Life essence will be consumed.]

A gamble. A painful one. But necessary.

He funneled everything he had into fire, wind, and strengthening magic. His leg became a coiled spring. Fire exploded along his muscles, accelerating the movement. Wind shaved off every ounce of resistance. Strengthening magic turned flesh to steel.

CRACK!

The sweeping leg strike caught Durg across the ankle. There was a sharp, grotesque snap as bone jutted through skin, white and glistening.

"Huh?" Durg blinked, confused, looking down at his ruined leg.

Kai stumbled, wincing. Even with layers of reinforcement, the blow had fractured his own leg, breaking through his barriers and bruising him to the bone.

He limped forward, standing over the behemoth.

"Do you forfeit?" Kai asked.

There was a pause.

"No."

And then Kai was flying again.

He barely registered the punch until he was above the arena walls, higher than the announcer’s booth, wind whistling in his ears. He caught a flash of stunned spectators, a flicker of golden hair in the stands.

His stomach burned. Ribs broken. Breath gone.

He twisted midair, coughed blood, and used wind magic to wrap himself before he hit the tiles.

The impact almost cracked the stone.

He lay still for a moment, struggling to breathe.

’What am I even doing here?’

He could see Joran’s face in his mind. Calm. Steady. Strong.

’This should be his fight. A necromancer isn’t meant for one-on-one combat without undead. I’m giving these people a handicap by even showing up like this.’

He staggered to his feet, shaky but upright. He wandered over to his weapons.

His ribs and shin were slowly healing thanks to his life essence being fuelled towards his injuries, but his body was still wreaked with pain.

Durg was three metres away. Standing perfectly still. Balanced. Despite having one leg mangled into ruin.

"Do you forfeit?" Durg echoed Kai’s question.

"No..." Kai wheezed.

Kai met his gaze, lips bloodied but smiling now. He picked up his buckler and sword, and Durg picked his tower shield back up.

He might’ve been broken, bruised, and mocked by the world’s expectations, but he wasn’t done.

Not yet.

This was a fight Kai couldn’t afford to lose.

Not just because it was public, or that Vepice was watching.

Not just because he’d been sponsored by Rael, or because he’d made a promise to fight for the championship for Joran, or for all those whose souls he carried.

It was because, somewhere deep in his battered ribs and ringing skull, this fight mattered.

Because Vepice was watching him.

’If I can just buy time... slowly heal... let Overchannelling fade, switch to regeneration spells... this could become a battle of attrition. If I’m careful, I might-’

His thoughts were cut off, not by pain or doubt, but by the thunderous voice of the mountain standing before him.

"Stop spacing out, kid, or I’ll kill you!" Durg bellowed.

And then he spun.

A full pivot, pivoting on both legs, the mangled one gushing blood, but refusing to quit. A madman’s commitment.

But this wasn’t a punch.

No.

This was a wall of death.

The tower shield, wielded now not as defense but as a centrifugal weapon, came hurtling toward Kai with a devastating, horizontal arc. The sheer mass and momentum turned the entire attack into a siege weapon, designed to end the battle, not continue it.

Kai reacted on instinct.

He raised his bucker, reinforced with sigils and his will, and met the blow head-on.

CRACK!

The bucker deformed instantly, caving in like crumpled parchment. The sigil overloaded in a flash of sparks, and his fingers were caught and crushed between steel and steel. The pain shot up his arm in sharp white lines, but Kai didn’t have time to scream.

The shield didn’t just strike.

It crushed before Durg pulled it away.

The buckler clung, like a magnet of violence. His hand now welded to the dented shield, a useless mass of mangled knuckles.

But Kai didn’t let it stop him.

In the same heartbeat, with his other hand, he flicked his sword from the hip and slashed upward, taking advantage of Durg’s attack to strike across Durg’s exposed left arm.

The blade cut deep this time, runes flared as sharpening sigil worked perfectly alongside Kai’s strengthening magic.

Red sprayed into the air, a slash carved from wrist to bicep. Durg flinched back with a shout of surprise and pain.

"Two warriors now, both wounded, both still standing!" the announcer’s voice rang out over the colosseum like a song of blood. "This is the Arena of Kings, everyone! And what a battle this is becoming! Will Durg, our returning juggernaut, remain unbroken? Or will Alex Trunsdale, our mysterious newcomer, bring him down and shake the foundations of the arena?"

The crowd exploded in cheers, some rising from their seats, waving sigils of light, clapping, shouting.

"Alex! Alex! Alex!"

Kai heard it. Somewhere between the roar of blood in his ears and the thrum of pain in his chest.

They were chanting his name. Not Kai. Not necromancer. Not murderer or heretic or freak.

Alex.

For just a moment, it didn’t matter that it was a false name.

That it wasn’t his.

For just a moment, it felt real.

He took a staggering breath, left hand limp and buckler fused to broken bones. His right hand trembling with the weight of his sword. His legs screamed with every twitch.

Across from him, Durg growled, arm bleeding, ankle shattered, but grinning like a berserker.

They were two wrecked statues facing one another in a temple of violence.

"Still standing, little Alex?" Durg chuckled hoarsely, dragging his wounded leg back into a stance.

"Of course I am," Kai spat blood and smiled through the crimson. "I haven’t given you a reason to forfeit yet."

They circled each other once more, the crowd watching their every move and the sun overhead casting long shadows between two of the most battered but unyielding fighters the Arena had seen in years.

The next move would decide the fight.