Chapter 48: Confrontation (1)
"Did we do anything wrong?"
Lying on the bed in the empty room, Victoria asked with an unfocused gaze.
Kurt didn’t respond; he stood rooted to his spot, his eyes never leaving the bed Clark lay on a few moments ago.
’I felt fear...’. Kurt realized
It’s important to note that when Kurt was fighting against the possessed Clark, he didn’t feel fear. Anger, frustration, and determination?. Yes. But not once did he feel fear when he fought the more powerful version of Clark.
But as he watched Clark walk towards him with calm and deliberate steps, his hollow eyes fixed on his gaze, and the empty smile never leaving his face, Kurt felt fear for the first time since he met Clark.
"Kurt?" Victoria called out as she sat up.
"What is it?" She asked worriedly as she walked towards him gently.
Sitting on the bed next to her, Kurt spoke solemnly, "That boy is dangerous."
"Surely, he can’t be that dangerous; he’s extremely skilled, yes, but he’s still an F rank at the end of the day."
Victoria tried to counter, but she herself had a nagging feeling that Clark had more secrets than she could fathom.
Kurt shook his head as he wiped the tear streaks off her face with a weak smile. "I felt fear, Victoria."
Shock displayed itself on the face of Victoria almost immediately. "From Clark?" she asked hesitantly.
"Those hollow eyes that seem to be the epitome of despair can cause even the strongest person to think twice before taking any action against him. And that smile..."
Kurt’s body shuddered lightly as he recalled that chilling wide smile that plastered itself on Clark’s face.
The contrast between the comedic and cheerful Clark and this other person he had become was like heaven and hell.
"So, are we just going to leave him?" Victoria asked whilst caressing his arms.
"It’s not a matter of if we’re going to leave him; it’s a question of whether he’ll leave us." Kurt spoke with unique heaviness in his voice.
"What do you mean by that?" She asked confusedly.
"...Forget it. I just pray to goddess Uriel that what I’m thinking doesn’t happen." Kurt replied.
Standing up, to the confusion of Victoria, Kurt walked to the training ground as he spoke, "Something tells me we’re going to meet Clark sooner or later, and it’s not going to be friendly."
....
’Those fools, they think I’ve gone crazy?, Well, they have another thing coming if they think I’m going to go to some mental asylum. I’ll risk my life with anyone who tries to take me away.’
Trying my best to ignore the constant cackles that travelled around in my mind, I hailed a carriage.
"Umm...where can I take you?" The coachman asked.
Biting my nails absentmindedly, I answered, "Vossier inn".
Watching the bustling town, the markets that lined the sides of the concrete road, and different races of people advertising their wares and team recruitment posters, a thought crossed my mind.
’Will I ever go back to normal? Will I ever escape this darkness and become the Clark I once was?’.
I knew the answer to that, but knowing and acknowledging are two different things, so I chose to ignore the answer to my own question.
"We’re here." He announced, "Free of charge, you look like you’re going through it."
Ignoring the coachman, I walked lifelessly to the inn and walked to the receptionist. "I booked a room here; I need it back."
The receptionist’s eyes clearly reflected confusion as she expertly opened a book that lay on her desk.
"Name, please?" She inquired.
"Clark...Clark Thompson."
The continuous flipping of the pages and the soft ruffles of the tree were all that filled the space for a while before a shocked voice sounded.
"Clark?"
My head turned mechanically to the source of the familiar voice with what I hoped would be a smile on my face.
"W–what happened to you?" Rose asked whilst walking towards me.
"Ma’am, do you know this man?" The receptionist asked.
Ignoring her question, Rose ordered neutrally.
"Go to room V-8; the guests there need your assistance."
The receptionist wanted to say something but decided to keep her mouth shut and briskly went upstairs as she received a cold glare from Rose.
"My room...is it still available?"
I could see Rose’s face wince visibly as she listened to my hoarse voice.
"Yes, actually Kurt and—"
"Don’t speak those names."
"...O–okay, your room’s in order, so you can go in right now." Rose answered, her face clouded in confusion.
Receiving the affirmation, I unhurriedly walked upstairs, the curious whispers from the nearby guests drowning out the voices in my head.
.....
Rose’s POV:
Coming back from the maintenance shop, Rose’s thoughts kept circling Kurt and Victoria’s earlier words. She stepped into the inn and froze. Before her stood him—shoulders slumped, back slightly bowed, each movement heavy, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and had already failed. A shiver ran through her; the sight stirred something uneasy deep inside, a mix of worry and unspoken fear she couldn’t quite name.
"Clark?"
She called out, unsure whether or not the back of the person she saw was the same man who always had a smile on his face.
Her heart ached with every mechanical turn of his head, and although she didn’t know him to a large extent, Rose was an extremely compassionate person by nature.
But as she watched the crooked smile and dark bags that lined under his eyes, even she knew that her compassion wouldn’t be enough to heal whatever damage had been done.
Her feet moved automatically towards Clark, as if drawn in by the emptiness in his eyes, but a primal sense of fear stopped her when she reached a point. Her instincts screamed at her that if she moved one step closer, she would die.
’Why am I scared when I’m D-ranked? I’m two ranks above him.’ She asked herself as her feet stopped despite her will.
Her mind couldn’t understand the logic behind her instinctive fear, but one thing was certain. Both body and mind didn’t want to take a step closer to that man.
"W–what happened to you?" She blurted, the hairs on her neck rising with every introspective gaze from the man.
The voice that came in response sounded like glass scratching against a rough floor—disturbing, worrying, and nerve-wracking.
Trying her best to suppress the urge to wince at the reply but failing, Rose tried making small talk just as she did with him in the past, only to be shot down coldly.
’They said a man suffered from soul dissonance some time ago...could it be him?’.
Her thoughts swirled as she stared at Clark walking lifelessly back to the room where he once had pleasant memories.
....
Opening the mahogany door, a faint scent of polished wood mingled with another fragrance I couldn’t quite place. But one thing—or rather, one person—stood out unmistakably.
"Hello, Clark Thompson. We meet again."
The voice was calm, friendly even, yet carried a weight that made me uneasy. He leaned casually against the window, a smile tugging at his lips as the wind tousled his golden hair with effortless ease.
Calming my jumpy nerves with my trustworthy skill [masseuse], I calmly closed the door behind me, my eyes never leaving him as I spoke.
"What do you want, Matthew?"
A light chuckle escaped from his mouth as he walked towards me with slow, deliberate steps.
Our faces inches apart, the friendly smile long gone and replaced by a more menacing one, he whispered, "You should’ve died that day you fell into Soul dissonance, but—" A short pause followed as he stared at me head to toe, "The state you’re in is much worse than death isn’t it?".
My eyes locked onto his for a solid minute and the urge to punch that smug grin off his face welled up within me.
And I gave in to the urge immediately.
My hand travelled faster than I expected and connected squarely with his cheek, sending him staggering backwards.
Holding the side of his cheek with an angry expression, Matthew exclaimed, "You’re not as strong as you were back then!, don’t get cocky!"
*******
Skill: [Rank Ascension] is in use!
Time limit: 59:57
Remark: ....
********
"I might not be as strong as before, but you were never strong to begin with. There’s a difference". I explained whilst dodging his attacks with relative ease.
The wooden shards crunched beneath Matthew’s boots as he straightened, yellow sparks crackling around his arms. The glow lit up the dim room in sharp flashes, casting his face in a twisted snarl.
"Lightning answers me! Let’s see you dodge this, bastard!"
His fist whipped forward, and a spear of condensed lightning ripped through the air. It screeched as it came at me, the smell of ozone flooding the room.
I raised my palm instinctively, chaos energy stirring sluggishly in my veins.
’The skill books taught me of the elements of chaos, but I’ve never had a chance to use them.’
The thought flickered through my mind as a faint blue ripple shimmered to life, water spilling into existence from thin air. It swirled chaotically, more like a leaking pipe than a trained technique, but it was enough.
The lightning cracked into the crude wall of water, scattering into steam and sparks.
The collision shook the room, and the spatial formation by the side of the wall glowed faintly.
"Tch—sloppy," Matthew spat, darting forward with blinding speed. The lightning along his body arched and snapped like chained serpents.
I barely managed to twist aside as his fist grazed my ribs, the electricity numbing half my body on contact. My teeth clenched as I retaliated, forcing more chaos energy out of me. This time, a jagged whip of water lashed from my hand—its form unstable, breaking apart at the edges—but it caught his shoulder and dragged him back, soaking his clothes.
Matthew snarled, arcs of yellow crawling across the wet fabric.
"Wrong move."
The lightning spread like wildfire over his drenched body, amplifying his aura as he charged me again. He blurred, reappearing just in front of me, his palm glowing with enough voltage to fry a man in an instant.
Instinct screamed louder than reason. My chaos surged, wild and untamed, shaping water into a rough dome around me. It wasn’t smooth or polished—holes and thin patches riddled it—but when his palm struck, the water detonated into a burst of steam and spray, knocking us both back.
The entire room rattled; books and broken wood scattered, the air thick with humidity and static.
I slid across the wet floor, coughing from the steam. My aura flickered faintly, unstable, but I forced myself up with a crooked smile.
"I told you, Matthew... I don’t need to be at full strength to deal with you."
Blue chaos gathered shakily around my arm, spiraling into a crude spear of water that dripped constantly, refusing to stay solid.
Matthew wiped blood from his lip, his yellow eyes sparking with fury. His aura flared like a storm contained in human skin, arcs of lightning crawling up to the ceiling and burning black lines into it.
"Then stop talking—" he slammed his fists together, the thunderclap shaking the air, "—and prove it!"
Both of us surged forward, water and lightning colliding in the confined room, the lightning eventually getting the upper hand after a while.
’Tsk, forget this. I’m going to use my scythe.’
I thought through clenched teeth as another bolt grazed my shoulder. My hastily-forged water shield cracked apart, steam bursting into the air as lightning pierced through gaps I hadn’t reinforced properly.
Matthew’s laughter grated against my ears. "You’re stronger than any F-rank I’ve fought! Then again—" his grin widened, wild and unhinged, "—I’ve never fought an F-rank at all. It’s obvious you’re suppressing your rank. Now tell me why!"
His body blurred again, arcs of lightning coiling down his arm like living serpents before snapping forward in a storm of jabs and blasts. I dodged what I could, the rest searing across my skin and leaving angry scorch marks on my chest. The smell of burnt flesh filled the room.
My grip tightened, blood pounding in my ears. "Enough".
Chaos energy surged violently inside me, responding to my intent. In the middle of the humid, crackling air, a familiar weight snapped into existence in my palm—the long, obsidian-black handle of my scythe. The curved blade gleamed faintly, blue water-light coursing along its edge as though the weapon itself was drinking from my chaotic aura.
Matthew skidded to a halt, his cocky grin faltering for just a moment.
"What the hell is that?"
I straightened, ignoring the sting of the burns across my skin. My scythe rested against my shoulder, the blade dripping with streams of unstable blue energy that hissed and steamed where they touched the floor.
"You shall not see the end of this day" I muttered, lifting the weapon. My eyes narrowed, a sharp edge cutting through the pain. "That. I promise you"
The scythe hummed faintly, resonating with me perfectly as the blue aura surrounded my blade.
Matthew’s smirk twisted back onto his face, more feral this time. Lightning gathered around him in a violent storm, the floor cracking beneath his feet.
"You humiliated me, don’t think you’re going to leave here alive either!"
We lunged at the same time, scythe and lightning colliding in a violent clash that made the room tremble as the spatial formation groaned against the growing chaos.
Faint cracks started to show across the formation, each rapid attack sending shockwaves across it.
The clang of our clash sent vibrations through the cramped room, cracks racing across the walls. My scythe cut a jagged arc, water-blue energy scattering in droplets that hissed when they touched the floor.
Matthew staggered back a few paces, his grin never fading. "I knew you were holding back when fighting against those juniors. No F rank can master mana manipulation to this extent".
Then, without hesitation, he reached for the sword sheathed at his waist. The steel gleamed dully for a second—before lightning erupted across its length, crawling up the blade in jagged bolts until it shone like a weapon forged from a thunderstorm.
The hairs on my arms stood on end. The air thickened with static.
"I never got the chance to use this against you due to my miscalculation," Matthew said, eyes narrowing as arcs of electricity sparked around his frame,"But that won’t happen again" He pointed the blade at me, and thunder seemed to growl low in the air.
He swung once. A streak of lightning split the air, slamming into my scythe with enough force to rattle my bones. My water-infused aura shuddered under the impact, droplets spraying wildly as if the very element was rebelling against my sloppy control.
’I should just revert to using a pure mana shield instead of this water nonsense. I’ll use water purely on offense’ My grip tightened on my scythe and I circulated pure mana the best way I knew how.
Matthew charged, sword humming with violent energy, every slash carving deep scorch marks into the floor, the desk, the walls. My scythe met his blade in desperate parries, each clash sending sparks and sprays of water through the air, the room rapidly becoming a storm of steam and ozone.
He laughed, wild and reckless. "Come on, Clark! Show me! Show me you’re not just some broken shell clinging to borrowed power!"
The force of his next strike sent me sliding back, my boots screeching against the fractured tiles. My scythe pulsed in my hands, chaotic energy flaring erratically as though it wanted to burst free.
I exhaled sharply and activated all my battle based skills to the utmost.
******
[Ding!]
Skill: [Calculative] is in use!
Skill: [Masseuse has been upgraded to the maximum and can be used permanently]!
********