At this rate, the system wants me to be a heartless puppet. Emotions for power? Not bad though. That means I can win this tournament without feeling a thing.
Daylan made his way upstairs and took his seat, finally at ease knowing Enyo had been more ghoul than human. But one thing gnawed at him—by the time Enyo was declared dead and his own victory announced, Enzo and the two mysterious figures were nowhere to be found.
"Congratulations, Day." Astara smiled.
Daylan grinned. "Thank you, princess." He leaned back into his seat.
Astara's expression darkened. "Must I ask you to stop that?"
Daylan deepened his grin.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
You have received a new task: [Activation Cue.]
Objective: [You need to determine the specific mannerisms or actions through which 'Dark Spiral' is activated.]
Duration: [Five minutes.]
Simple, 'Energy Manifest' internally.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Congratulations, you have completed [Activate Cue.]
The last duel ended in no time, and they were given an hour's break to prepare for the final phase.
Astara and Daylan shared a few moments to themselves, discussing how the final phase might unfold. An artificial dungeon would be conjured on the dueling field, with the audience watching from the stands as usual.
Projectors would be placed across the arena, while a transparent, soundproof barrier would be set up to prevent the demonic monsters from attacking them.
The dungeon would be filled with countless monsters, and a tamer would be present as well. The contestant with the most kills by the time the tamer's timer reached zero would be crowned the winner.
"There won't be any ghouls—they're far too easy to kill. For the past four years, Lamias have been used, so it's unlikely they'll rely on the same monsters again this year."
Daylan nodded.
He was a step closer to winning the tournament, but he had no idea what Lamias looked like in person. Aside from the research he'd done for his novels in his previous life, he couldn't even be sure they looked the same here. Worse still, he didn't know how to counter them if they did appear—he had never faced one.
He wasn't as nervous as before—killing an emotionless monster wasn't that big of a deal. Still, he wasn't letting his guard down. The tournament was far from over.
Just as they were speaking, a commotion stirred at the entrance. Astara went to check it out, and when she returned, she was accompanied by Zira.
She hurried to Daylan. "Congratulations, big brother. I was scared."
Daylan smiled and held her hand. "Me too, Zira."
They had barely any time to themselves before the final phase was set to begin. The dueling ground collapsed inward, instantly transforming into towering, maze-like walls filled with hellhounds.
"You can do it, big brother."
Daylan gave Zira a gentle smile as they walked toward the dungeon's entrance. By the time they arrived, Medora and the others were already there, waiting.
They stood side by side as the announcer gave his instructions. They had just twenty minutes, and ten routes lay ahead—each person was to choose one. The chosen route would determine the number of monsters they faced, though it wouldn't necessarily decide the winner. It would, however, greatly affect their chances of victory.
The moment the phase began, the others rushed for a route, while Medora, Astara and Daylan just stood there.
"Ahh… aren't we supposed to be moving?"
Three routes remained. Without hesitation, Medora strode forward and entered one. The clock ticked steadily, but Astara didn't move. Daylan cast her a quick glance before stepping into the route on his left.
He raised his guard the moment he stepped inside, but there were no signs of monsters—only darkness. A flicker of fear crept in—had he chosen a route with no monsters at all? Still, he had to be certain. He moved forward with steady, cautious steps. Then, a sudden smile played on his lips.
His excitement vanished in an instant as a hellhound lunged at him with a guttural growl. Its speed was unmatched, and its razor-sharp teeth snapped inches from his face. He barely managed to dodge in time.
The hellhound landed lightly, flames curling from its maw as it locked eyes with him. In that instant, two more emerged from the shadows, exhaling fire in heavy bursts as they closed in on Daylan. He tightened his grip on his dagger. As they lunged, he dodged their fiery grasp and drove his blade into one of them.
What? Nothing?
Their skin was tough—his dagger couldn't even leave a scratch. The hellhounds began leaping off the walls, their movements a blur. His eyes darted around, trying to track them, but he couldn't see a thing. Before he knew it, one struck him hard, slamming him into the ground.
In an instant, they were on him. Their razor-sharp teeth sank into his flesh, tearing at him from all sides—he was on the verge of being ripped to shreds.
He screamed in agony as blood splattered across the floor—he was completely helpless, overwhelmed by the savage assault.
Energy Manifest.
In the blink of an eye, he switched his dagger to his left hand and drove it into a hellhound's neck. With a swift, precise strike, he slashed through the second one's throat, severing it completely. The last hellhound began ricocheting off the walls with incredible speed, a blur of fire and fury.
Soul Spiral
The hellhound collapsed to the ground, blood trickling from its nose. Daylan knelt beside it as the Dark Spiral faded from his eyes. Without hesitation, he slit its throat, ending the fight with cold, merciless precision.
Before he could rise or take a single step, four more hellhounds emerged from the shadows, charging straight at him. He narrowly evaded their snapping jaws and, with a swift motion, slit one's throat open mid-charge.
Energy Manifest.
They charged at him again. Dodging their grasp, he swiftly slit a hellhound's throat. His ten seconds were nearly up. Seizing the moment, he turned brutal—grabbing a hellhound mid-air by the head as its jaws snapped wildly. With a snarl of effort, he crushed its skull with his bare hand.
Without a moment's hesitation, channeling all his strength into a single strike, he hurled his dagger at the hellhound. In that instant, Dark Spiral faded, leaving him breathless as he watched the dagger soar through the air.
Before the creature could react, the blade plunged deep into its skull, ending it instantly.
Daylan panted heavily.
Is that all?
He rose and sprinted through the dungeon, eyes scanning every corner for more hellhounds. Before he knew it, only a minute remained before the tournament ended. He needed more kills. But how could he know if someone had already slain more than he had? That uncertainty gnawed at him—he couldn't afford to take that risk.
His heart pounded beneath his skin as he scanned the shifting shadows, every breath shallow and tense. His body trembled, fighting the urge to scream in frustration.
Then, in an instant, he dropped to his knees as the announcement echoed through the dungeon—the tournament was over.
The towering walls, corpses and the barrier vanished into thin air, dissolving like mist and leaving only the ten participants standing alone on the field.
Was everything just an illusion?
Daylan rose to his feet and scanned the crowd. There she was—Zira, cheering with tears in her eyes. A smile broke across his face. Seeing his sister that happy reminded him of what he'd come to understand earlier that day—no matter the outcome, they would always be a family.
Daylan glanced around, searching for Medora and Astara. They both stood calmly, their expressions composed and confident. He gave Medora a quick wave, which she returned with a nod. Astara, however, barely acknowledged him—her head tilted upward, eyes fixed ahead, silently awaiting the results.
The announcer cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. Daylan clenched his fists, tension tightening in his chest as the announcer began listing the kill counts—starting from the last place and working his way up.
The announcer called out the first five names, and Daylan pumped his fist in silent triumph—his name wasn't among them. The five participants received polite applause before stepping down from the stage, leaving only the top contenders behind.
He braced himself as the final five were about to be announced. Fear crept in—tight and cold. The sixth-place contestant had killed four. He had taken down seven. Exactly what he had feared from the beginning was now staring him in the face: what if someone had done just a little more?
The announcer called out the fifth and fourth places together, as they both had the same number of kills. Medora took fifth, and another participant claimed fourth. Daylan clenched his fist, his body frozen in shock. He had no idea what to do with himself, the uncertainty flooding him like a wave.
"And in third place, with seven kills, Daylan Rhys."
His heart sank, and his jaw fell slack. A cold numbness spread through him as the reality settled in—it was truly over. Medora strode to toward him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You did your best, Day." She assured him.
Daylan glanced back at Zira. She was still beaming, her grin wide and unwavering. He searched for a reason behind her joy, but nothing concrete came to mind.
I guess she's happy I survived—he smiled.
"In first place, with ten kills, is none other than the pride of all Divine Citizens—Princess Astara Quincy!"