"For a long time, that boy has been moving his body in a condition that he shouldn't have been able to."
Monitoring the screen that depicted the scene in the arena, the old doctor spoke as if fascinated.
"Somehow, his body learned to adapt. It developed in a way that maximizes, no, transcends the efficiency that a human being is capable of."
To someone like him, his deficiency was resolved.
The doctor gulped.
"It's just a small amount of muscles that managed to build within a month. Yet... the result surely is staggering."
He then wondered,
"...If he were to attain the muscle mass of an average man, how much stronger will he be able to become?"
__________
Everyone was in a trance, including Darvy himself.
As he already said, his body felt strange. No sense of exhaustion inhabited in him. After managing to catch the lance, spin his body at a speed that matched its momentum, and return it back to Masasuri, he still felt as energetic as ever, as if he could do it more.
In Darvy's mind, the countless adversities that he experienced appeared. Recalling upon them, a strange feeling entered him.
A joy, perhaps. Or, a hope more like.
How did this happen, Darvy wondered. However, he dismissed this thought, for he knew that the context of his development didn't matter at the current moment when he was facing a dire battle.
"How did he do that?"
People wondered Darvy's feat just now. Some called it a sheer luck, saying that Darvy has always been lucky throughout his matches in this colosseum.
...In the end, those words of theirs were nothing but blasphemy. They clearly saw what just happened and knew Darvy's performance couldn't be described with luck alone. It was just that they didn't want to believe what just happened, for it went against their logic.
Boom.
A lance hit the ground next to Darvy, as he took just a step to the side, dodging it. Plucking it out of the ground, he then threw it back, which collided with another lance that Masasuri threw.
There was a spark as two metals clashed before they fell to the ground. Darvy saw Masasuri's body shaking in anger, as if unable to believe the current situation.
"You...!!"
As the Celestial Dragons murmured, the winged opponent of Darvy shouted at him, still afloat in the air.
Changing his strategy, Masasuri dove straight at Darvy at a ferocious speed. It looked like Masasuri was intending to subdue Darvy via a melee combat.
Seeing the approach of his enemy, Darvy's eyes moved along with Masasuri's outstretched arm, as he tilted his head to the side and evaded Masasuri's fist.
Then, a wing came in his way. Noticing a formidable force behind it, Darvy leaped to dodge it before crossing his arms to block Masasuri's kick.
Darvy was knocked back, but he thought to himself,
'...It doesn't hurt.'
Being pain-tolerant and not feeling pain was different. The pain which Darvy felt from many blows until now—most of them, save the strongest ones, weren't due to their impact, but rather, because them amplifying the constant pain that the deposited toxins caused in his body.
With them now gone and Darvy having been liberated from such a maleficent factor, thanks to the less amount of energy required by the normal muscles and therefore the sufficient providence of nutrients to his bones, his skeletal system began to shine.
'What is that hardness...?!'
Masasuri gritted his teeth.
'It's as if... I was punching a steel!'
Flipping backward, Darvy landed on the ground, before leaping once again nimbly to dodge Masasuri's sweeping kick.
Flapping his wings, Masasuri propelled at Darvy along with the rise of dust. Grabbing a sword during this sudden flight, Masasuri swung it at Darvy, which Darvy met by reaching the wall next to him, taking a hold of an axe, and swinging it at a full force.
Naturally, axe was heavier. The clash between the two resulted in Masasuri losing the grip over the sword, and Darvy, letting go of the heavy axe that impaired a quick movement, seized the former's surprise to punish—by embedding his fist into the enemy's exposed chest.
The impact of Darvy's punch was shocking. Masasuri took a couple of steps back, before falling on a knee as the trail of blood left his mouth.
"Huff... huff..."
Masasuri glared at Darvy as he stood back up, holding his chest as if painful.
As Masasuri's eyes met Darvy's, Darvy read the pride in the man.
Pride. In Darvy's view, this seemed foolish. After all, there were the self-proclaimed gods, Celestial Dragons, staring them from the above. No matter how high one's ranking was in this colosseum, they were nothing but the jesters, the clowns meant to entertain those hideous beings.
Therefore, Darvy held no more significance in the fights of this colosseum other than his survival. However, it was clear that his enemy didn't share the same view.
To someone like Masasuri, Scorpion, and that Brody, one who seems to have been here for quite a while, these fights and rankings were their lives.
"...You."
Then, Masasuri spat out,
"You took that same serum as Brody."
"As if."
Darvy refuted, though he too wondered if this was the case.
Masasuri managed to stand back up, though his breathing remained quicken. Meanwhile, Darvy managed to restore some energy, and he believed that through this momentary peace, he benefited more than Masasuri did, now completely rejuvenated once again.
At this moment, Masasuri's eyes flashed dangerously. He seemed to have come up with a plan to win, as he began to fly upward, high enough to be far out of Darvy's reach yet still lower than the Celestial Dragons seated above. With his white wings spread out wide, he seemed like an angel, a messenger of the rulers above...
...Or, something akin to a caged bird, from Darvy's perspective.
"It's a pain that I have to use this technique early on for someone like you. To force me to this..."
Masasuri snarled,
"Die painfully!"
The feathers then flew out of Masasuri's open wings, flying down at Darvy at a ferocious speed. From below, such a scene seemed akin to a white rain in Darvy's point of view, mesmerizing as each and every feather shone brightly upon receiving and reflecting the sunlight.
One feather landed and produced a noise that shouldn't belong to a conventional feather of a feather-weight. It was more similar to that of a steel, heavy and impactful.
Darvy began to run. Running to the side across the arena, the rain of feathers struck the path behind him. As Darvy narrowly dodged them, the chaotic rain of feathers gave a rise to a thick cloud of dust, one that eventually ended up obscuring Darvy's position from Masasuri's vision.
Not stopping there, Masasuri began to shoot the feathers out of his wings aimlessly, all around the arena. The bombardment didn't end, and it was quite a scenery to the Celestial Dragons. Some, quite amazed, turned to look at Masasuri's master Zygmunt, who seemed just as surprised.
Then, a sword suddenly came flying from the cloud of dust, striking Masasuri by the abdomen.
"W...hat...?"
Masasuri remarked before he began to fall helplessly, full of pain.
Without the bombardments of feathers, the dust settled down, revealing Darvy who stood with numerous light gashes on his body.
Masasuri, having managed to flap right before his crash, managed to soften his land. With a painful expression, he whispered while sweating with his hands on the sword that was still pierced through his abdomen,
"How...?"
"I always had a good sense of vision."
Without pulling the sword out, for doing so would result in the massive blood loss, Masasuri stood up with a pale face. With his trump card, whatever that feather bombarding technique was, used without managing to produce its intended effect, both Darvy and Masasuri felt that the end of the battle was now imminent, heavily in favor of Darvy.
To his enemy, Darvy narrowed his eyes. Taking in a deep breath, he focused.
It seemed as if time was slowing down, once again.
His body tensed. He crouched his legs.
Then, he dashed. His scenery turned into a blur. With the incredible efficiency and therefore the strength amplification of his body, coupled with its extremely light weight, Darvy's speed was so quick that to the eyes of the Celestial Dragons, he appeared akin to a phantom for this brief second.
There was a sound of crack.
Masasuri was vomiting blood with his bloodshot eyes widened as if about to pop out. Darvy's fist, having struck the embedded sword, blasted it out of Masasuri's body and had itself sinking in the latter's abdomen.
Unwilling to yield, Masasuri tolerated the pain. Roaring with his bloodied mouth, he opened his wings as if about to embrace Darvy, intending to shoot feathers at a point-blank range.
However, Masasuri didn't even get a chance to do so, for at the next moment, a bombardment of punches began.
Darvy's hands moved at a blurring speed, blasting Masasuri's body with each and every blow. The blood splattered and rained, and Masasuri's body was skidding back little by little as Darvy pushed, and then—
—boom. With a final punch, Masasuri was knocked off his feet, then rolled across the ground, before crashing onto a wall.
When the dust settled, Masasuri was revealed unconscious with his back leaning against a wall.
Lowering his arm, Darvy breathed.
There only remained silence, and every spectator seemed too shocked to speak. After all, it was Darvy's victory... and an overwhelming one at that.