My Will To Live Forced Me Into A Second Life ?!

Chapter 26 : Lein VS Owul

In the Iveralmn Arena

"We can finally see it!" I exclaim mid-flight, as Elvaria and I race towards the colossal arena.

"It's packed!" replies Elvaria, in free fall, her scarlet hair flying around her. We glide above the Iveralmn Arena, where the tournament is already underway.

I twist in the air, facing the ground, then shout, "Quick Step!" launching myself like a comet toward the earth. Behind me, Elvaria shines like a red arrow, diving with me until we finally reach our destination: the place King Almus has prepared for us.

As we land with force, a shockwave ripples through the arena, drawing everyone's attention. Even the kings of other nations, seated in their royal boxes, turn, intrigued by the sudden crash.

When they see Elvaria and me, standing proudly at the top of the coliseum, at the King’s Platform, murmurs and rumors spread like wildfire. Our arrival does not go unnoticed, especially since we occupy the highest seats, an honor reserved for us by Almus himself as the representatives of Iveralmn.

"It's really them... Novus Obris... They're here!" we hear from the crowd.

"I thought they were imposters, but that speed...!" exclaims one of the sovereigns, visibly unsettled.

Another, with a condescending smile, retorts, "Don’t worry. Phloriphis will handle them, I guarantee it..."

The excitement in the crowd soars. Rumors fly, and some spectators even get carried away by the moment.

"Elvaria is so beautiful! Aley can die for all I care; I'll replace him!" shouts a stranger. I immediately shoot him a dark glare. He instantly feels my displeasure and turns back to the arena, rigid with fear. I smile inwardly, satisfied that he got the message.

But suddenly, a powerful rumble silences the entire arena. A gravelly, wise voice echoes through the stillness: "Is that it? Are you done swooning over these latecomers? I understand that you, people of Iveralmn, don't care much for foreigners, but interrupting a fight for tardiness is an insult! I’d like my match to begin."

The voice belongs to Owul, and as soon as he speaks, even the sovereigns stop murmuring. I squint to get a better look at this imposing man. From where I stand, I can make out his figure: a giant with brown skin, wearing an unbuttoned gray shirt that reveals a muscular and imposing body. His black eyes gleam with determination, and his long braided hair falls down his back. He wears black iron greaves, radiating a palpable magical energy. He exudes a rare kind of power, the kind that gives you chills. The last time I felt this was when I fought the dragon in the A-rank dungeon.

"Mr. Owul, I'm a big fan of yours too! But Aley and Elvaria must have a good reason for being late, so don’t blame them too much!" Lein's voice cuts through the arena, slicing through the silence. I remember him. We met him before conquering Aqualida, and we even signed an autograph for him. I never thought he’d qualify for the tournament, but apparently, he’s stronger than he looks.

Owul smiles, a mocking smile, and retorts: "Hah? What right do you have to utter their names? I don’t sense any power in you. Are you here by accident?" His tone is scornful, but there’s something in his voice that suggests he’s truly testing Lein.

Despite that, I remain convinced that Owul has a certain gentleness to his character. So why the provocation?

"Whatever. Let’s start this fight," says Owul, turning toward the referee. In the center of the arena, a raised platform, entirely made of mithril, awaits the two fighters. The rules are simple: leaving the ring means losing; being knocked out means losing. But killing is strictly prohibited.

The referee raises his hand toward the sky and declares with authority: "Let the 23rd Intercontinental Tournament begin! At the count of three, the warriors may start their assault. The rules are: defeat by leaving the arena, by KO, and no killing. Now, begin!"

The moment the referee finishes speaking, Owul disappears, leaving only a slight trail behind him. But Elvaria and I can still follow his movements. Right now, he’s charging straight at Lein, his fist ready to strike his abdomen.

But to my surprise, Lein suddenly fixes a cold gaze on Owul, who’s rushing toward him. He manages to track his movements despite Owul’s impressive speed. Taken aback at being spotted, Owul throws his punch anyway, creating a shockwave that raises a huge cloud of dust. When the dust clears... Lein had vanished.

"I-I don't feel any power from him... h-how did he dodge that attack?" Elvaria exclaims, visibly shocked. But the most surprised is Owul himself. The entire arena holds its breath, every eye fixed on the slightest movement.

-CLANK

A metallic sound suddenly echoes. Lein reappears behind Owul, confused, ready to strike with a sword aimed at his throat. Fortunately, Owul manages to block the blow at the last second with the back of his hand, as hard as steel.

"Who are you, young man?" Owul mutters, confused. His voice is menacing, but there’s a hint of kindness and shame, as if he regrets underestimating his opponent.

"I am Lein Mart, leader of the Cadillac group, known as the Madman’s Card," replies Lein in an icy voice. His joyful, timid demeanor has vanished, replaced by an unwavering will to win.

"I see... My apologies for judging you too quickly," Owul says with wisdom, unashamed.

Suddenly, the fight picks up again with a vengeance. Lein and Owul charge at each other at breakneck speed, Lein’s sword striking relentlessly while Owul’s parries respond with surgical precision. Each blow sends gusts of wind sweeping through the spectators, like a dance—a beautiful and deadly dance.

Owul throws a straight punch toward Lein’s face, which Lein narrowly dodges before retaliating with a sword strike aimed at Owul’s arm. The level of the fight is worthy of S-rank, yet by guild standards, Lein would only be considered A-rank, as he hasn’t accomplished any major feats so far. But just by observing, I realize there are individuals capable of matching our strength. If I keep using my skills on loop like in the Aqualida dungeon, I wonder if I’d be invincible...

"Isn’t this exciting?" I say to Elvaria, as focused as I am on the fight.

"Shh, just watch the blows instead," Elvaria replies, a smile of excitement on her lips.

In the arena, neither Lein nor Owul show any signs of weakness. Suddenly, Lein crouches, planting his feet on the platform before launching himself into the sky. His sword then changes, infused with strange magic.

"From the late queen was born a unique magic, let the Golden Rose imbue my weapon..." he murmurs. Suddenly, vines wrap around his sword, roses blooming from the thorns surrounding his blade. Lein, still suspended in the air, prepares his attack.

Owul, seeing the attack coming, abandons his combat stance and places his fist on his chest. He murmurs in turn: "Let the world’s hatred devour me for my sins... Sinner's Fist." His fist emits a deep black aura, and his eyes change, turning an intense violet, almost purple.

Lein, his sword now covered in thorns and roses, suddenly descends toward the arena platform, creating a shockwave so powerful it clears the clouds above the coliseum.

The impact of their two attacks is imminent. It’s clear that the victor will soon be decided. Everyone holds their breath. Elvaria’s eyes are wide open, captivated by the battle... As for me, I can’t afford to miss this either.

A massive explosion cracks the coliseum platform, and a thick cloud of dust covers both fighters. For a long moment, nothing is visible. Then, slowly, the dust clears, revealing... both fighters, still standing!

"Kid... you're tough, I'll admit. But not enough to beat me... I am Owul, the Revenant, and until I’ve found my old comrades, I won’t fall..." says Owul, trembling, out of breath, but still on his feet.

"Well played... For an old man, you’re really strong..." replies Lein, kneeling, exhausted, before collapsing, unconscious. The winner is therefore—

"Incredible! What a magnificent fight to open the tournament! Owul, the Revenant, is the victor!" the referee suddenly shouts, and I take a moment to analyze her... Isn’t she the guild receptionist from Orthosomo? She’s really pretty, even for an elf...

"Aley. You’re thinking about another girl, aren’t you?" Elvaria suddenly breaks the silence that had settled over the arena after the referee’s announcement, before pinching me, very, very hard.

"UWAAAAAA!" The crowd erupts, totally captivated by the stunning battle they’ve just witnessed. It was a real spectacle, especially with those final attacks. The next to speak are the sovereigns of the other nations.

"Ah! I told you, Novus Obris doesn’t stand a chance. They will never match such a display of strength!" they sneer, clearly satisfied. But the King of Iveralmn and Alfira give us a subtle smile, a sign of their confidence in us. We’re still perched at the top of the coliseum while they sit to our left, on thrones resembling seats.

Thinking back, I still haven’t spoken to the King since his daughter hit him right in front of us…

"The next match will pit Elvaria Ofcroft of Novus Obris against Valentin, the Hero of Verdesable!" announces the guild receptionist, pointing to Elvaria with one hand and a mysterious hooded figure among the spectators with the other. Suddenly, the man pulls back his hood, revealing his face—it was Valentin.

"Ahh… they’ve noticed me, despite my efforts to remain inconspicuous..." he murmurs, his voice barely audible. Without my enhanced senses, I never would have heard him.

"Kyaa! It’s Valentin!" several girls in the audience scream, recognizing him. He’s very popular, but instead of acknowledging his admirers, he looks at us and gives a wink. I smile back, returning the wink. That’s what true pals do, after all.

"You two are really close, huh?" Elvaria says, pouting.

"Indeed. Well, tomorrow’s your fight, so rest up," I say gently. She responds with a confident smile and a thumbs up.