Henry's breath was ragged, his body trembling under the weight of Stallion's brutal onslaught. Blood dripped from his lips, and his vision blurred, but the fire in his eyes had not dimmed. His newfound King's Presence roared to life around him, pressing against Stallion's ominous aura. The air between them crackled with invisible force, as if two storms were colliding in the heart of the arena.
Stallion, standing tall and unshaken, observed Henry with a cold gaze. He slowly unsheathed his black scimitar, its eerie lavender inscriptions glowing brighter. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips.
"Do you know why you're losing stamina so quickly?" Stallion's voice was smooth, laced with condescension. "This is the power of the sword—Famine. Every strike I land drains your strength, leaving you weaker with every passing second." He lifted the scimitar, letting Henry see the faint wisps of energy being siphoned from his battered body.
Henry gritted his teeth. The thought of Stallion's words about slaughtering his friends, the innocent women and children inside the fort, fueled his rage. His trembling fists clenched tighter. He would not fall. He would not let this monster win.
With a deep inhale, Henry planted his feet firmly on the ground. The King's Presence around him pulsed violently, resisting Stallion's oppressive aura. Then, with every ounce of willpower left in his body, Henry lunged forward.
Stallion's eyes widened slightly, surprised by Henry's sudden burst of speed. Henry swung his right fist in a devastating arc, a powerful right hook aimed directly at Stallion's face.
BANG!
The punch connected cleanly, forcing Stallion's head to whip sideways. The sheer force sent him staggering back several steps, dust kicking up from the impact. The arena fell into a stunned silence for a brief moment.
Henry's chest heaved as he glared at Stallion, sweat and blood dripping from his brow. His knuckles throbbed from the impact, but he stood his ground.
Stallion slowly straightened, rubbing his jaw where Henry's fist had landed. A grin formed on his face, not of anger, but of excitement.
"Heh… That actually hurt a little." He locked eyes with Henry, his expression darkening. "You're full of surprises, but I hope you know… you just pissed me off."
With a sudden burst of speed, Stallion charged at Henry, his movements fluid and merciless. His attempt was met with a sudden surge of Henry's king's presence, it stop Stallion midway.
Henry exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling as he steadied his stance. The force of his King's Presence surged through him, fueling his body as he stared down the Stallion. His fists clenched tighter, his muscles tensed, and then he charged forward, launching himself at his foe.
Stallion smirked, raising his fists. "That's more like it. Show me you're not just another weakling!"
Henry threw a heavy right hook, which Stallion ducked, countering with a sharp jab to Henry's ribs. But this time, Henry didn't falter. He twisted mid-motion, bringing up his knee to Stallion's gut. Stallion grunted, but retaliated with a spinning backfist, which Henry barely managed to block with his forearm.
"You're learning," Stallion said with a dangerous grin. "But it's still not enough!"
Henry lunged again, weaving past Stallion's defense, unleashing a flurry of punches. Each blow forced Stallion to step back. The arena shook with their movements, the sheer force of their battle sending cracks through the stone floor.
With a fierce roar, Henry swung a crushing uppercut, grazing Stallion's masked. Stallion's eyes flashed with something between anger and amusement.
As Henry's powerful uppercut connected, it grazed the Stallion's mask, leaving a long, jagged crack across it. Stallion instinctively leaped back, his eyes narrowing as he reached up his mask and felt the damage. A slow exhale left his lips before he grasped the mask with both hands and, without hesitation, tore it off.
For the first time, his face was revealed—not just to Henry, but to everyone still watching from the stands. The few remaining bandits, their faces smeared with dirt and exhaustion, stared in stunned silence. His face was strikingly handsome, unnaturally so. His sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and piercing lavender eyes gave him an almost otherworldly charm. His expression remained unreadable, but the way his glowing gaze bore into Henry carried a silent promise of destruction.
In the sidelines, Espada's eyes widened slightly. "I hate to say this, but… he's handsome."
Elric, who stood beside her, scoffed in annoyance. "Beautiful faces, bad character." His fingers clenched around his sword hilt. "I don't care how he looks; that monster is still trying to kill Henry."
Back in the arena, Henry's stance never wavered as the Stallion tossed his broken mask aside. A creepy smirk played at the Horseman's lips.
"You should be honored," Stallion said smoothly.
"No one has ever made me remove my mask in battle."
"I'm not here to admire your looks," Henry retorted, his fists tightening. "I'm here to put you down."
The tension in the air reached its peak. The two warriors lunged at each other, colliding with raw force. Henry threw a flurry of punches, each strike infused with the weight of his King's Presence. Stallion dodged and countered with calculated precision, parrying Henry's strikes with his bare arms, his movements fluid like a seasoned predator. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed across the arena as both fighters exchanged blows at breakneck speed.
Stallion twisted his body and unleashed a devastating knee strike aimed at Henry's ribs, but Henry managed to block with his forearm, the sheer impact sending a jolt of pain through his bones. Gritting his teeth, Henry retaliated with a fierce right cross, forcing Stallion to duck—only for Henry to follow up with a brutal left hook that nearly clipped his jaw. The Horseman barely evaded, he stepped back, smirking.
"I see," Stallion mused, flexing his fingers. "You're getting stronger, I wander if you are still far from your limit?."
Henry exhaled sharply, sweat dripping from his brow. "And you're annoying."
Their King's Presence clashed violently, filling the arena with relentless power surges. The ground beneath them cracked from the sheer intensity of their battle. Sparks of energy flickered in the air as their wills pressed against one another, neither willing to back down.
Stallion chuckled darkly. "Let's see how long you can keep up."
And with that, they clashed again—two titans, locked in a battle that shook the very foundations of the arena.
Henry barely had a moment to register the danger as Stallion raised his scimitar, its inscriptions glowing an eerie lavender. Henry instinctively raised his gauntlet, bracing for impact. When the blade clashed against his arm, he felt something unsettling—like an invisible force siphoning his strength away. His muscles tensed, his breath grew heavier, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. He caught a glimpse of the energy being drained from him, flowing unnaturally into Stallion's weapon.
Henry's instincts screamed at him. He swiftly dodged backward, creating distance between them. He exhaled sharply, trying to regulate his breathing. 'That sword… it's doing something to me,' he thought, clenching his jaw.
Stallion smirked. "Now you see," he said, his voice with amusement. "Every swing of my blade doesn't just cut flesh—it steals your strength. Fitting, isn't it? That the Famine's blade devours everything its edge touches?"
Henry's eyes narrowed, but before he could fully prepare, Stallion was upon him again. The scimitar sliced through the air with terrifying speed. Henry barely managed to step aside, the blade grazing past his ribs. He winced, countering with a quick punch, but Stallion effortlessly twisted out of the way. He was relentless, pressing forward with a storm of strikes.
Henry deflected the first few with his gauntlet, but his movements were growing sluggish. He recognized it now—his stamina was diminishing with each exchange. Stallion feinted left, then abruptly twisted his wrist, slashing downward.
Pain erupted through Henry's side. The blade tore into him, carving a deep wound just above his waist. His body shuddered from the impact, and his knees buckled. Blood seeped through his torn tunic, spilling onto the ground. A pained gasp escaped his lips as he clutched at his side, trying to stem the bleeding.
His King's Presence flickered, the once-overwhelming aura now wavering.
Stallion exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
"And here I thought you were getting somewhere," he mused.
"But it seems you're running out of time."
Henry grit his teeth, his vision blurring slightly. He forced himself to stay upright, panting heavily. He could feel the weight of exhaustion creeping in, but something deep within him refused to yield. His fists clenched, and despite the agony, a fire still burned in his eyes.