The World Is Mine For The Taking-Chapter 1232 - 190 - Leon Vs. Shredica (5)

Shredica’s POV

My mind was sharp.

No—sharper than before. Way sharper than it had any right to be.

It felt like someone had wiped the fog off my thoughts and cranked the clarity knob all the way up until it almost hurt. Everything around me felt fast and slow at the same time, like the world couldn’t decide which gear it wanted to stay in. My senses were stretched thin, pulled taut, and my brain was firing on all cylinders without asking for permission.

Thoughts overlapped. One plan bled into another, and then into another after that. Three different calculations ran side by side in my head—how I’d move, how I’d strike, how I’d react when he countered. I could see my own mistakes before I even made them, and yet my body kept pushing forward anyway, like it didn’t care.

"You are a very perceptive person," the voice said calmly inside my head. "You are someone who could manage to defeat someone like him. Unfortunately, at this point in time, you can’t. And I don’t think there will come a time when you will—but there is a five percent chance. However, right now, you are going to be defeated one hundred percent. Your chances of defeating that man are zero."

It said all of that so casually, like it was reading weather forecasts instead of my death odds.

I didn’t really think about it.

Honestly, I didn’t want to.

No matter how much the sword kept talking, I didn’t bother listening. Right now, those words didn’t mean anything to me. They were just noise. It was an annoying, preachy noise that didn’t match what my body was screaming at me to do.

So I did what I had already been doing.

I attacked.

I came at him from every angle I could think of from high, low, straight on, feints mixed with raw aggression. My cursed blade tore through the air again and again, each swing loaded with intent and frustration. I didn’t slow down. I didn’t hesitate. I just kept pushing.

And he kept deflecting everything like it was nothing.

Every strike met steel. Every attempt slid off his guard as if my attacks were predictable, rehearsed, and boring. It felt less like a fight and more like I was testing a wall to see if it would eventually feel bad for me and break.

I kept going anyway.

There was no thoughts and no strategy beyond hit him harder. The cursed sword felt heavy in my hand, alive and hungry, and I let it guide my movements. My mind blurred together with my body until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

Then—

"I guess... it’s time for me to end this..."

The words weren’t loud, but they hit harder than any strike.

A chill crawled up my spine, sharp and unpleasant, like icy fingers dragging along my back.

"It’s over~!" the sword sang inside my head, its voice light, almost playful.

It was mocking.

It’s over? What is?

I didn’t even get time to finish the thought before something shifted behind me.

A pressure. A presence.

A monstrous aura exploded into existence at my back. It was thick, suffocating, and absolutely alien. I had never felt anything like it before, and my instincts screamed at me to move.

Too late.

My body flipped violently, the world spinning end over end. He pointed a single hand at me, barely even trying, and with just one flick—

I flew.

Not stumbled. Not pushed.

Launched.

"What the hell was that?" flashed through my mind as the air ripped past me.

"I’ve never used Wind Magic like that before," he said, sounding genuinely curious. "That’s interesting."

"Huh?"

That was all I could say. Real articulate moment there.

I hit the ground hard, forced myself to roll, and scrambled back to my feet. The second I stabilized, I dashed toward him again, teeth clenched, refusing to let that be the end of it.

And then I ran face-first into something invisible.

A barrier.

"W-What...?"

I stopped dead, staring at the air in front of me like it had personally betrayed me.

He wasn’t skill-less?

No. I already knew he had skill. I wasn’t that stupid. But somewhere along the way, I had convinced myself that—like me—he was mostly raw power and instinct. He had no skills in him. Guess that was me lying to myself.

So why show this now?

Why wait until now?

I drove my blade forward, trying to pierce the barrier, pouring strength and cursed energy into the strike. The impact rang out, but the barrier didn’t even ripple.

"It’s over. Give up," the sword said flatly. "Even I can’t pierce through that kind of barrier. You’d have to exhaust it first, but even then, it’s impossible at your current strength. Well, not that you’ll get the chance to cut it anyway."

Then pain exploded in my core.

Something slammed into my solar plexus so hard it knocked the breath straight out of me.

A kick.

I didn’t see him wind up. I didn’t feel the motion before it happened. One second he was there, the next my body was folding around the impact.

How?

Before I even finished flying back, that same sensation appeared behind me again.

Again?!

I wasn’t even done being airborne from the first hit, and he was already there?

How fast was he?

Both fists crashed into my back, driving me downward like a meteor. I slammed into the platform with a sound that echoed across the arena, and the force split the surface beneath me. Cracks spiderwebbed outward as if the ground itself was giving up.

My lungs refused to work for a second. I lay there gasping, my body screaming, even with the cursed sword flooding me with power.

"See?" the sword said calmly. "I told you. It’s already over."

"Shut up," I growled.

I clenched my teeth so hard it felt like my gums were about to tear open.

"It’s not... over yet."

My arms screamed in protest as I forced myself upright. Something was definitely broken—maybe more than one thing—but I stood anyway.

"Ooh? You’re healing," the sword said, suddenly interested. "I’ve felt this before, but you’re not normal at all. You’re quite something. Even though I’ve been draining you this entire time—enough that you should be dead by now—you’re still fine. How much life force do you have stored in you for that to happen? It seems I’ve found a very good vessel."

I didn’t care what it was rambling about.

My eyes were locked onto Leon.

My vision pulsed, then shifted—purple bleeding into the edges of my sight. That familiar sensation surged through me again.

Power flooded my body.

It felt like my strength doubled all over again, muscles tightening, veins burning. I launched myself at him, putting everything into that attack.

Leon shrugged it aside.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

With a flick of his wrist, his sword redirected mine. I had poured enough force into that swing to crush bones, yet he deflected it like he was brushing dust off his sleeve, using a blade that looked like it shouldn’t even survive the clash.

"I already told you," the sword said again, its voice almost bored. "You can’t defeat him. Ever. Give up."

"Shut up," I snapped.

I lunged again, thrusting forward with everything I had left. Condensed magic smashed into me mid-motion, blasting me backward into the barrier meant to protect the spectators. Blood spilled from my mouth as my body hit hard.

His power wasn’t just overwhelming. It was effortless.

Still, I didn’t want to lose.

My vision pulsed again, harder this time, and my entire body felt like it was about to burst apart from the inside. I charged him once more—

And got thrown aside like a broken doll.

Simple magic.

By then, my body felt heavy and unresponsive. My legs wouldn’t move. They felt shattered and useless. Even with regeneration kicking in, it was painfully slow, like my body itself was tired of keeping up.

I couldn’t stand straight anymore.

And that was when the umpire finally stepped in.

The match was over.

Leon was declared the winner.

Just like the sword said.