Chapter 515 - Tournament winner against Tournament winner

Mana seeps out of my body, and for the first time in so long, I let it, even helping it with my Mana Cycling.

My body reserves, doubled by an attribute upgrade.

My Reservoir that triples all that mana.

Mana from my crown.

Jean isn’t breaking easily as others do and there is no need to be worried about teammates nearby.

My mana floods out in waves, swirling, radiating, crashing against his body. The raw force of it.

And something about his body resists. His bones, his psychology, is different. It isn’t a skill, it isn’t the power of his stats, but something about him resists mana-based attacks, reducing the impact they have on his body.

Jean stands up from the debris and through [Ley line] I send a tricolored orb that forms next to his head.

He notices it and lifts his forearms in front of his face.

Compressed mana decompresses, and doing so generates heat, shockwave, then a powerful implosion pulls everything close to where the center of the orb was, squeezing it all together.

It damages his body, it pulls him closer, compressing him together with all that density, but when it falls to the ground, Jean climbs out of it.

Under the artificial sunlight cast by the crystals in the ceiling, his exposed bones and bare skin reveal powerful muscles beneath. He wears barely any clothing, his terribly damaged body already beginning to regenerate.

He withstands my mana pressure. The same force that I’m certain would drive Lily, Tess, or the twins to their knees—gasping for air and on the verge of passing out—barely seems to trouble him.

Jean takes a deep breath, lifts his arm, and then closes it into a fist before smashing it against his chest. The shockwave is sent through the area.

He repeats it again, creating another shockwave that blows away the dust.

“Is that all you have?”

Just these five words he says.

I reply in my way.

My hand rises, palm open, as mana gathers. The surrounding light dims, the raw brilliance of my mana surging into form. Threads of luminous energy weave together, layer upon layer, condensing into a radiant lance that hums with immensely compressed mana.

[Empyrean Lance - lvl 0 > Empyrean Lance - lvl 1]

[Empyrean Lance - lvl 1 > Empyrean Lance - lvl 2]

[Empyrean Lance - lvl 2 > Empyrean Lance - lvl 3]

[Empyrean Lance - lvl 3 > Empyrean Lance - lvl 4]

[Empyrean Lance - lvl 4 > Empyrean Lance - lvl 5]

Lance manifests in the air, floating over the palm of my hand, the air around it shimmering with a volatile charge. The lance’s tip glows with blinding intensity, pulsing in sync with the resonance of my mana.

Threads of energy weave together, glowing brighter with each layer, forming a luminous weapon that seems to hum with all that mana. Its core radiates a deep, golden-white light, while its edges glimmer with streaks of pale blue and violet that ripple and pulse like the heartbeat of a star.

I shoot it forward with every ounce of focus, and the weapon streaks through the air like a comet, its trajectory inescapable, leaving behind a trail of prismatic afterimages.

The very space it passes through vibrates, the air bending and warping as if the spear itself defies reality. The colors—gold, white, blue—flare brilliantly as it hurtles toward Jean.

Jean’s body jolts as all that mana resonates through him, tearing at his structure. His skin ripples unnaturally, his bones vibrating under the relentless assault, and for a moment, even his incredible regeneration slows. The unstable field lingers around him, a chaotic storm of energy that continues to crackle and spark, leaving behind a scarred and fractured structure.

Yet as the light fades, Jean still stands amidst the destruction. His body smolders, steam rising from his skin as he steps from the epicenter, his muscles tense and his expression unwavering.

The left side of his body is nearly gone, just the bones remaining, kept together by remaining tendons and pieces of flesh that sizzle, bubble, and start regrowing in that show of regeneration.

He opens his mouth to speak, but the lower part of his chin is gone. Only the bone remains, with his tongue and all the surrounding flesh stripped away.

Even so, he squints his eye in a show of a smile as wrinkles form in the corner of his eye.

He reaches his hand towards me and Pulls. But this time he pulls himself. His body launches at incredible speed toward me, but the moment he enters my reach it stops mid-air, his arm reaches, his bones showing and flesh regenerating.

I see, so that thing of his resists mana.

Even held by my effort, Jean starts moving his arm slowly, that enormous strength moving his body through my hold.

For a moment we fight each other. My mind and [Redistribution] doing their best to hold him while he does his best to generate as much energy as he can for me to slip. Before that happens, three tricolored orbs form around him.

At that moment, he breaks free from my hold, curling his body as the explosion hurls him into the ground, inflicting even more damage.

He doesn’t even stop rolling when he Pulls again, this time keeping his legs on the ground so he can use them the next time I hold him. His pulls are shorter but more powerful, and doing multiple of them, he reaches me.

Another [Empyrean Lance] forms, and the skill levels as I hurl it at him.

This time he doesn’t let it hit him; instead, he grabs it and attempts to break it, which releases that attack again, a golden-white core flashing, leaving behind that destabilized field I will have to examine.

I take a deep breath, and the Ley Lines I was forming in the air around him materialize, just two threads, each only a bit longer than I’m tall. Even with all my effort, it’s difficult to do more. These pale blue shimmering threads move and coil around him, before connecting and tying him down until he stops moving.

With a step, I activate Wraith Dance and reach his body.

“I think this is…”

[Ley Line] threads snap. The thread that so far was only damaged by [Disintegration], and the most powerful pull I sensed until now pulls me to him and him to me.

My body crashes against his, the air escaping my lungs.

At that moment, my eyes lock with his, half of his skull missing along with one of his eyes and large sections of his body. The instant I make contact, I feel it: an effect emanating from him. Whether it’s his body, his bones, or some other trait, it actively repels mana. I can sense it clearly now. Mana twists around him, dissipating, weakening.

Jean is made to fight mages.

That incredible strength tears off my right arm with ease. Even all my kinetic energy doesn’t help me to resist.

With a blast, I release kinetic energy I have collected towards his head, stripping it of the rest of his flesh, skin, only the skull remaining, and inside of it his brain.

For a moment that head moves back, but some of the muscles reattach to his neck, and he swings his head, smashing it against mine as he grabs me again, this time coiling his arms around my body.

My unique passive activates, weakening a hit and a huge amount of mana filling into my reservoir. Even so, I feel a crack.

As his body works to weaken my mana, I push through, reforming my arms with raw mana and enveloping parts of my body in armor crafted from Ley Lines I had prepared earlier. The armor is a blend of dark blue threads interwoven with shimmering, pale blue Ley Lines.

[Ley Line - lvl 44 > Ley Line - lvl 45]

[Ley Line - lvl 45 > Ley Line - lvl 46]

I endure another hit, and I switch to Breaker Style, slamming my open palm against his side, a geyser of flesh and blood smashing against my armor.

Just how absurd this man is.

His body doesn’t only reject and resist mana and mana-based attacks. No, it takes bits of mana that damage it, using it for faster regeneration.

Jean’s eyes restore and his mouth too, that quiet laugh sounding from him, and he squeezes harder, the armor around me cracking, and he ignores my golden flames burning him.

I know I could withdraw my mana, stop using it for attacks. I could channel it all into my crown and send it elsewhere to counter his ability.

But.

Who does he think I am?

Instead, I draw it all in, wrapping it around my body, flooding myself with it, and reinforcing my armor. Then, I keep attacking him.

His regeneration speeds up to a ridiculous degree, and to show my point, I move that raw mana and oscillate it the way I used to during the first floor.

It damages him. It heals him.

It damages me as well.

With a body boosted by mana and not kinetic energy, I punch his face, my mana arm dissipating, reforming, punching him again and again.

Jean squeezes harder, and my ribs crack. He opens his mouth to say something, but my oscillating mana tears his face off, it grinds down his skin, his muscles, and I keep increasing pressure. I keep compressing it until the mana surrounding us feels like I can touch it like I can breathe it in and swim in it.

The air wavers, colors start changing to a different one, and it’s hazy.

A deep breath.

And push.

Jean’s arms snap open, and my knee buries into his belly. A barrier forms around my face, and I slam it against his head, making him stagger back.

He pulls on me, but four massive arms form on my back, stabbing deep into the ground and holding me there.

I take a step towards him, compressing my arm made of mana, weaving mana in it, I focus on keeping the direction of the hit. And I attempt to mimic [Empyrean Lance].

Miserably failing, only a significantly weaker imitation takes shape. My mana arm reveals a faint core of white and gold, a pale shadow of the lance's brilliance, as I drive my fist into his face.

[Mana Manipulation - lvl 61 > Mana Manipulation - lvl 62]

The explosions bloom towards him instead of all sides. A stream of concentrated mana-generated heat throws the man away from me while blowing off my mana prosthesis. It explodes three times, each stronger than the previous one.

Mana around me moves, pulled to my body, to my crown as I cycle it again. My heart beats, generating thermal energy that burns around me, fighting hard to keep me alive. Wraith Dance skips the distance between us, and my armor reforms, and the sword forms in my hand as well, ready to strike.

Just a palm’s thickness from his body, I stop. Jean isn’t moving.

He isn’t dead, his powerful heart is still beating, and his body is regenerating much slower, but he is unconscious and incapable of fighting.

I have won.

I close my eyes, savoring the feeling as I replay the fight in my mind—the danger I faced, his abilities, the techniques I could replicate, and the things I could improve or test.

Then I look at him again. The winner of 1st round, 1st tournament.

CarrotCake.

I can kill him. I can ensure he never threatens my group again. I even conjure a sword, aiming it directly at his head. Old me would probably do it. The 1st floor Nathaniel wouldn’t hesitate for too long, but the current me doesn’t want to.

Because I don’t want to sour this beautiful feeling of victory.

I’m not who I used to be. I’m stronger now, no longer so afraid. I’m confident I can face him, no matter how many times he comes after me. And I’m certain he’ll keep his word—if he tries to harm anyone in my group, he’ll come for me first.

Finally, I want to face him again. I want him to grow stronger, so he pushes me to become even stronger.

My mana seeps from my body, and I surround him with it, quickening his regeneration while observing the process. Trait? Unique passive? Surely one of these things allows him to do so. Plus that body or bones capable of resisting all mana-based attacks.

What a ridiculous base that will grow ridiculously stronger in the future.

After confirming once more that he’s unconscious, I cut off the tip of his finger and slip it into my pocket—something Lilly and I can examine later.

Then, just to be sure, I cut off two more. He’ll regrow them.

Jean is also heavy as hell, so this time I strengthen my body that is now for the most part made of mana, all these missing pieces replaced so I can function and move. My both arms, a piece of my leg, a patched hole through my belly, one missing eye.

I carry him into the safety of The Sphere and throw him on the ground while I sit on the stone bench under the water sphere. My mana continues to flow to him, keeping him regenerating while I barely feel like having the energy to mana-manabloc a chair instead of this uncomfortable bench.

Then, I grab one of my arms that Jean tore off. Holding it against my shoulder, I fuel my passive to let it reconnect. It’s faster than relying on my passive regeneration, which struggles most with rebuilding bones. Especially after all the bone knitting I’ve done.

Tacita is still here, sitting nearby and observing the sphere the same way I saw her before.

Curious, I spare some of my mind and look at it as well, I give it an hour, two hours, three, but there is nothing interesting I can see. The group of natives and some attendees that watch it seem to be the types with low mana, so maybe it’s useful for someone with physical stats-based builds?

For the remainder of my stay token’s duration, I focus on regenerating my body and some light training.

By the time it’s nearly time to leave, Jean is fully healed but still unconscious.

As he disappears back to his floor and group, I look at Tacita one more time. Even now, she stares up, her eyes big and pupils moving as she observes the movement of the particles in the water sphere.

Then I feel the pull and return back to the 7th floor.

***

Next Chapter