Death Frost | Deathsworn #2

Chapter 45 ❆ Deus Ex Machina

Sorry, so tired ahahahah.

Despite waking up under the pressure of having to take on two fights today, I felt surprisingly at ease. Perhaps it was the assurance that I was already a disciple of the temple...I sort of questioned the point of fighting at all. Wearily, I got up from bed at the insistence of Mistress Veronika and proceeded to wash up and put on the repaired costume before heading down to the arena.

The routine was familiar—it was the same old thing. The announcer would come up and holler to the crowd. The crowd would then respond with equally enthusiastic cheers. I would come out of the dugout upon being summoned, then be introduced briefly, face my opponent, and finally we would fight.

I was not very spirited about this, but I wasn't too dispassionate about it either. Nonetheless, it occurred to me just how much I did not favor competitions. At a certain point, they could get a little tiring. I would still like to win, but I wasn't as keen on competing that much for anything.

Mushroom Soup...was the very opposite of my solemn mood, though. The mushroom head costume really contrasted my ferocious and more solemn appearance. He was sharp, focused, and was brimming with that intense desire for victory.

Ah, the energies of youth. These were one of the times I was reminded about how I was such an old soul. I could feel the failure of synchronicity between my memories and my actual age...then again, I could treat it as though time had stopped for me when I died. I could still be a teenager...with memories equivalent to a thirty-year-old lady.

"Lionheart does not seem very enthusiastic," the announcer said.

Wow, I'm so amazed this guy could even notice this.

Anyway, it was true. I guess this was one of my moodier days.

Mushroom Soup did not take this to heart, however. He stepped forward heartily, bouncing on his feet like the joyful mushroom he was. Like his name implied, his Deliverer was the dragon of the sea. His talent over water was quite impeccable too. When he'd gone against Maun earlier, I saw a great potential waiting to be unraveled. Unfortunately, while talented, he did not exactly have a sophisticated control over his ability.

"What's wrong with you now?" Amber asked.

"Nothing. It's just...I woke up and found I'm very tired. I don't feel like doing anything today," I replied.

"That does not mean you can throw away your matches," he said.

"I don't plan to," I said.

If anything, this state of mind had calmed my overactive brain. If it was every other day, I'd have described Mushroom Soup in a hundred sentences or more before focusing on the things that actually mattered.

I was a little absentminded until the start of the fight resounded in the arena with a clap. Mushroom Soup stepped in with conviction, throwing a spinning kick at my face. My eyes sharply glanced at the oncoming foot. Casually, I stepped back. There was not a lot of wasted energy in my maneuver, and I could instantly see the benefits of my calmness in the situation.

He followed it up with another kick using the other foot. This time it was the hammer type, targeting my unguarded stomach—or so he thought. I caught his foot and held it still while I threw a kick of my own, landing a strike in his most sensitive zone.

Mushroom Soup gasped.

"That was such a casual counter from Lionheart's side!" the announcer exclaimed. "What is up with our kitty today? How come she became like the mother of the pride within a night?!"

I did not allow Mushroom Soup to recover. I was not in the mood to prolong the fight more than necessary, so while he was trying to recover from the burning agony that had erupted from his crotch, I stepped in. I grabbed his head and shoved his face down to my knee, then threw him back with a bleeding nose.