Reborn with a Necromancer System
Chapter 168: Kai vs Durg - Part Three

Chapter 168: Kai vs Durg - Part Three

The sound of breathing filled the arena. Ragged, uneven, human.

Kai’s chest rose and fell like a man drowning on land. Durg’s own breath sounded like a forge bellows, labored and steaming in the midday sun.

Only minutes had passed. But it felt like a lifetime.

Each second stretched with anticipation, tension, and pain. So much pain. Blood pooled between the cracks of the concrete tiles, blackening under the heat of the sun. Spectators held their breath as if exhaling might tip the balance.

Then, they moved.

A flurry of violence erupted again, two titans battling at the edge of human limits.

Durg struck first.

A wide, crushing blow aimed at Kai’s good arm, trying to disable him further.

Kai dodged just enough for the strike to miss and shatter the ground beside him, leaving a crater of debris. Dust filled the air. He tried to reposition, but...

WHAM.

A closed fist to his gut. All air fled from his lungs.

Kai stumbled back, wheezing, vision darkening at the edges. Instinct kicked in. He called on wind magic—not to fly, but to force air back into his lungs, compressing and expanding them with unnatural pressure until breath returned in one great gasp.

He wasn’t done.

His blade flashed again, slashing Durg’s chest, thighs, shins. Drawing more blood. And yet, the giant didn’t falter. Durg stood tall, like a monument to unshakable will.

Another swing came.

The tower shield. A mountain in motion.

Kai didn’t run.

This time, he met it.

He offered up his buckler and his left arm.

CRUNCH.

The shield connected with explosive force.

The buckler folded inward like tinfoil, bones shattered, and the entire arm was torn backward unnaturally, dislocating from the shoulder with a crack that echoed across the coliseum.

The pain was instant and searing, but Kai didn’t scream.

The crowd did in his stead.

He staggered. Blood from his ruined hand poured freely now, slickening his side. And still, he smiled.

From across the arena, Durg’s eyes widened from shock, then respect, then something else.

Joy.

"You..." he rasped, nearly breathless, "you’re not afraid of pain."

Kai’s legs bent slightly.

’No,’ he thought. ’Not since the wolves. Not since the bears. Not since they gutted me like meat and left me to die.’

The sigils in his body glowed dimly.

This was it.

He gathered his magic.

Fire and wind, strengthening magic too.

Then he vaulted, pushing off with explosive energy from his heels, over the tower shield as it swung.

Mid-air, he spun, a comet of strength, magic, and rage. His good leg flared with strengthening and fire magic, the air hissing around it like a blade.

CRACK.

His shin slammed into Durg’s exposed temple.

The force was enough to twist the titan’s neck. His pupils rolled back, knees buckled, and the colossus swayed. For a moment, he seemed to stay upright through sheer defiance.

But then, gravity won.

The giant toppled, shield clattering against stone. Dust rose in a wave.

Durg lay still.

Kai landed hard on both feet, with one cracking, the other barely supporting him. He stumbled, nearly blacking out, every breath a scream behind his ribs. But he remained standing.

"Aaaaaaand..." the announcer dragged the word with theatrical tension, waiting as a robed official hurried over to Durg’s side and pressed a glowing hand to the man’s throat and chest. A few seconds passed.

He nodded.

"That’s the match, everyone! The winner of this year’s first fight in the Arena of Kings Tournament is the newcomer... Alex Trunsdale!"

The arena exploded.

Cheers and applause and the stomping of thousands echoed like thunder across the stone walls. The chants came again.

"Alex! Alex! Alex!"

Strangers screamed his name like it was the name of a hero.

Kai could barely hear it through the ringing in his ears. The blood in his head surged like crashing waves. But he saw movement in the stands as a blonde girl stood, her hands raised to her mouth, eyes glassy.

Vepice.

She was smiling.

His left arm dangled uselessly, his hand crushed beneath bent steel. His shin felt like it had fractured clean through. Ribs were definitely broken. Every breath was a knife in his chest.

But he won.

Somewhere in his shadow space, the echo of a soul murmured with pride.

’I did it, Joran.’

Then the ground tilted, the sky wobbled, and Kai fell to one knee.

But he never let go of his sword.

Certainly! Here’s the expanded and fleshed-out version of the scene, focusing on the pain of recovery, the pressure of future fights, and Kai’s introspective isolation despite the crowd’s praise:

---

Kai didn’t let go of his sword. Not even when the healers rushed to the square and lowered him onto the stretcher, not even as his legs gave out and his vision blurred into a muddy haze of noise and motion.

The blade rested across his chest like a knight’s final rite, gripped in a fist that refused to open. His fingers twitched around the hilt with instinct, the nerves wired into his brain screaming danger even as the match was over.

Adrenaline surged. Pain dulled. Breath shallow and fast.

The cheering echoed dimly, as though coming from underwater.

Kai’s gaze flickered sideways.

Durg. The mountain of a man was unconscious, his limbs slack and frame limp as he was carried by six men, each struggling under the behemoth’s weight. They moved in slow, staggered steps while grunting, trying not to trip or buckle.

Their stretchers diverged at a split in the hall.

As Durg turned one way, Kai’s own procession took the other.

’If I want to win... I have to do this four more times. Four opponents. Maybe tougher than Durg. Stronger. Faster. More clever.’

What could he rely on then?

He gritted his teeth as the thought gnawed at him.

’I can’t just hurl myself around like a rabid animal every time. I need more than power and speed. I need...’

The pain surged again.

The stretcher bumped once, twice over uneven flagstone floors, and every jolt made his ribs feel like splinters driving deeper into his lungs. By the time they reached the infirmary, the world was a smeared mural of torchlight and stone.

"On the table!" barked a voice.

They laid him out gently, but even that sent flashes of red behind his eyes. The sword was finally removed from his hand, not by his will, but because his muscles had seized so tightly they had to pry it loose.

Then, with extreme caution, they removed the shield that was welded to his hand.

When the healers began to cast their spells, a strange murmur passed between them.

"Where are the wounds?"

"Wasn’t he nearly torn apart out there?"

"Look at his ribs... no bruising, no breaks. This doesn’t make any sense-"

A man with silver-streaked hair and half-moon spectacles leaned over him, magic already pooling at his fingertips.

"You healed yourself, boy?"

Kai didn’t open his eyes, but he gave a small nod.

"Foolish, but effective," the older man muttered, checking Kai’s arm next. "Even though you’ll need every scrap of mana for the fights ahead?"

"I couldn’t risk letting others use magic on me," Kai rasped. His voice was hoarse from the screaming his throat wanted to do during the match.

’At least not when I don’t know what it might reveal. Not when the church, or the gods, might be watching.’

The healer’s eyebrows twitched. But he nodded.

"That’s the spirit of a fighter right there," the man said after a pause. His tone softened. "But... even the strongest sword needs a stones to sharpen it and oil to protect it. You can accept help, lad. It’s not weakness."

Kai sighed, finally opening his eyes. Pale light bled in from the stained glass of a high window. His breath slowed.

’What are you, my dad?’

He didn’t say it aloud.

Instead, he rolled carefully onto his side. The movement made his back ache and his left arm twinge, still not fully recovered even after burning through most of his life essence reserves to hasten the healing process.

He felt his fingers snap back into place.

Even if he could heal himself, the blood he lost wouldn’t replenish itself.

He stared at the wall.

The mana that was being directed towards Kai fizzled out as the mages realised their services were no longer necessary.

His heart beat slower now, but it beat hard. Every thud reminded him of what still remained.

’There are four more battles.’

Each one watched by the entire citadel. By Vepice. By Rael. By gods-know-who else.

And with every match, he’d reveal more of himself. More magic and skill. And he’d try to draw the least amount of unwanted attention to himself as possible.

Not even an ounce of necromantic magic.

He let his eyes close.

Even if the pain dulled, the exhaustion was deep. As if his soul, not just his body, had been bruised.

For now, though, he rested.

’I want to watch the other fights. Knowing what I could be up against could save me in a match...’

But his body refused to move.

[As a result of overchanneling, your body will remain in a partial state of dormancy for an hour.]

’Ah... Now, that makes sense. In these matches, overchanneling is okay, but in the outside world, I need to make sure I have my army to protect me for at least an hour afterwards.’

Kai breathed calmly, letting his body rest.