Chapter 20

Hendrickson launched himself into the air, and in a short second, he arrived at Douglas's location. He swung the sabre downwards, with great force and evil intent. His target was the crown of Douglas's head, intending to cleave it open. The spiraling blue air around his forearms, added more momentum and velocity to the swing.

Douglas revealed no panic towards this attack. With his hands still deep in the pockets of his black jeans, he casually sidestepped to his left, avoiding the incoming attack. The sabre missed him by less than a meter. Douglas swiftly backed away to create some distance.

FWEEEP!!

The dust and red sand of the arena ascended into the air and blew in different directions, as the sabre struck the ground with great force.

Hendrickson came again, this time sweeping the sabre sideways, attempting to slice open Douglas's neck. But, Douglas easily anticipated this and bent backwards deftly, the sabre missing him by some millimeters, before backtracking again.

Hendrickson clutched the hilt tightly with both hands, the spiraling blue air extending to the sabre, and as Douglas was backtracking, he pulled the sabre towards himself. He kicked the ground to add more momentum and as his frame levitated forward, he thrust the sabre with all his might at the chest of Douglas, with the evil intention of brutally impaling him.

This change of pace didn't cause Douglas to fluster. He sidestepped swiftly in an instant, the air spiraling sabre grazing his shirt a little, as it passed by him. He then danced with his toes, his movement like that of a seasoned ballerina, to the back of Hendrickson, avoiding contact and slinking away deftly.

SWEEP!!!!

SLASH!!!

THRUST!!!!

SHLINK!!!!

Hendrickson didn't afford Douglas any breathing space, as he upped the intensity, by swinging the sabre consecutively. He swung vertically, horizontally, a jumping sweep, a forward thrust, a downward spiral. Persistently. Again and again. He had been at it for close to four minutes. His back was already mattered with sweat by his consistent effort.

But, still nothing.

Every single attack was marginally dodged by Douglas, without him even breaking a sweat. Frustration was beginning to build for Hendrickson. He paused for a second to catch his breath. He then circulated his mana the more and increased the spiraling speed of the blue air on his limbs.

FFWWWOOSHHH!!!!

His swings became more deadly, his speed increased greatly.

But, it seemed the more the agility he exuded, the more sharper his opponent's reflexes became. He just couldn't touch him. All his attacks missed him by a slight margin. He increased the speed of the spirals again and again, circulating and releasing more mana, but it was all for naught. Nothing worked. The faster he became, the more it was impossible to draw blood from Douglas.

But, though, Hendrickson was a bit frustrated, he wasn't discouraged. That was because he had another plan up his sleeve. He decided to change his strategy.

Hmmmph, this bastard has some good reflexes. I didn't think this fight would last his long. But, it seems decent reflexes is all he can scrounge up, because he should have attacked me, when I was vulnerable to a counter. He must be so scared of my swings that he forgets to attack. In that case, let's see how he dodges this!!!

Hendrickson thought to himself, while maliciously grinning inwardly.

After he had swung the sabre for like the hundredth time, just as Douglas was backtracking, Hendrickson suddenly backtracked, as well, to the surprise of the spectators in the Amphitheater.

But the representatives of the Jogota province, knew exactly what Hendrickson planned to do, and they, most especially the disciples of the blue wind sect, eagerly awaited the revelation of the technique on the grand stage

Hendrickson had backed away thirty paces. He then positioned himself into a striking stance. The transparent steel of his sabre glowed with a light blue hue, just a shade lighter than his blue wind.

"Eat this, Bermudian scum!!!" Hendrickson screamed fiendishly.

WWHHIISSHH!!!

Hendrickson slashed the air upwards, with an immensely exerted energy. The blade shlicked noisily.

WIND SCYTHE

PHEWNNN!!!

A thin blue air slash materialized and flew out of this sabre with great speed. The long, curved slash, twisted and turned, as it malignantly tore through the air. Its purpose to tear open the body of its nemesis.

Hendrickson had switched his strategy to long distance attacks!!

Douglas kicked the ground and jumped to the side, avoiding the incoming slash. But, before he could balance himself properly, a plethora of blue air slashes, were flying in from all sides.

PHEWNNN!!!

PHEWNNN!!!

PHEWNNN!!!

PHEWNNN!!!

PHEWNNN!!!!

Each of the slashes passed by, as Douglas glided through the tight spaces between each of this attacks. None even grazed the clothes he was putting on. He did this so effortlessly and with so much ease, like they were nothing more than pieces of paper being flung at him.

One minute passed... Two minutes passed... Three minutes passed... Five minutes passed.

There was still nothing to show for Hendrickson's efforts.

The expectant faces of the spectators, wishing for the blood of Douglas to be spilled, became more and more hesitant, as time passed by.

Evident shock were on the faces of the disciples of the blue wind sect and those representing the Jogota province. Even, Philemon Henderson was no longer confidently grinning from ear to ear, like earlier. His face was now a lot more somber and his old eyes were totally focused.

But, the one feeling the most shock was Hendrickson.

The Wind scythe was his go-to technique. It had brought him a lot of victories in matches. In fact, it was due to this technique that he was renowned as the number one genius among the youths of his province.

Its strength wasn't mainly based on the speed of its release nor did it lie on the sharpness of the impact, but on the compression of oxygen, around the axis of the opponent. The technique slices the air and compresses and absorbs some of the oxygen circulating around, making it difficult for the opponent to breathe and reason properly.

Sure, it was possible to dodge for some seconds, maybe even for a minute or so, Hendrickson even anticipated two minutes for good measure. His opponent should have been wheezing and gasping for air; his athletic evasiveness should have reached its limit, with the amount of wind scythes flying in. But it had already been five minutes. Five good minutes and no results!!

He was already getting tired, his mana was getting depleted, his hands were heavy from the constant swinging, he was completely drenched in sweat, but his opponent hadn't slowed down for a second. There was no single sign of fatigue in him. In fact, his reflexes were even getting sharper!! His weaves were getting faster!!!

What in the absolute f*ck was going on?

Weren't Bermudians supposed to be weak? Weren't they the scourge of the earth and the shit stain of the nation? Then, what the hell was going on here? Here he was struggling so frantically to get a hit in. While his opponent, whom hadn't even activated his mana, was dodging his best attacks, with so much ease, like they were sluggish, slow snails.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be!!

He was supposed to be praised like a heroic celebrity, as he fought with grace and poise, brutally ending the pitiable life of some ant, nobody wanted alive.

Not this sh*t.

He couldn't afford to lose here. Not at the very first match of the tournament! Not to some low life bottom feeder!

The tolerance level of his frustration had reached the limit. He couldn't contain it anymore. He exclaimed, while breathing heavily to catch his breath,

"Stop scampering around like a rat and fight me like a man, you imbecile!!! Don't you have any shame?! All you've been doing so far, has been running? Face me man to man if you dare, and see the way yours truly will anally fuck you up!!"

"Really?" Douglas condescendingly scoffed, "All what your weak, insignificant attacks have revealed so far is how lowly and mediocre you really are. You thought you were all that, but if this is the best you can muster, then you are all but, a waste of my time!!"

Weak?!!

Insignificant?!!!

Lowly and mediocre?!!!!

A waste of time?!!!!!!!

Each of this words hit him squarely in his feels. Hendrickson grinded his teeth so hard, he could have almost reduced it to dust. He had never felt so much rage.

Nobody had ever spoken to him this manner.

He was like a god in his province. A man whom could cover the sun with one hand in his province. He was only second to his grandfather, whom even treated him with more love and respect than the bootlickers and ass kissers. He was born to look down on others, and not the other way around.

Not by some god- forsaken, son of a whore.

No!

He couldn't accept this! He had to kill him one way or the other!

"You are dead! Dead, I tell you! I'm gonna wring your f*cking head from your neck and feed it to the beasts and your bones will be offered to the dogs!!!" Hendrickson threatened in utter rage.

"Come on, then, I don't have all day. I will like to see you try." Douglas urged aloofly, while yawning in boredom.

Hendrickson fired more wind scythes at Douglas, as he maximized the speed of the spiraling blue wind around his limbs to its max. The wind spiraled furiously, like a cyclone, blowing dust and sand into the air. He dashed towards Douglas, attempting to get closer, while swinging his wind scythes respectively.

He was attempting to use both strategies!

Both the short range attacks and the long range, weren't really compatible to use at the same time, but Hendrickson was running out of ideas and this was the best he could think of momentarily.

Douglas had weaved between about thirteen consecutive wind scythes. Just when he was a little out of balance, his opponent came flying in almost immediately, with his sabre. Hendrickson jumped forward with so much momentum and with an added springing motion. When he was almost within reach, and slashed his sabre powerfully at the neck of Douglas.

This was his strongest slash so far. It was similar to his first slash of earlier, but this was a lot more powerful, had a lot more bite and he was catching an unbalanced Douglas off his guard

FWWEEPPP!!!!

The tip of the sabre missed Douglas's neck by a millimeter. Despite Douglas been in an unbalanced state, he still managed to arch backwards, like a cat, to avoid his neck been sliced open.

But then, instead of Douglas to take steps backwards and backtrack, like he had been doing earlier, he suddenly lunged forward, and for the first time, since the commencement of the match, his hands left his pockets! He balled his hands into a tight fist and the instant Hendrickson landed on his feet, he cocked his right arm and launched it fiercely at his face.

PPOOWWW!!!

Hendrickson's head was blown backwards by the force of the punch. He lost control of his balance, as he tottered around like a drunk under the moonlight. He managed to steady himself to a standstill, only to behold the nightmarish face of his opponent close to his, intending to follow up with another.

PPOOWWW!!!

This time the punch landed on Hendrickson's tummy.

UUURRHH!!!

Hendrickson moaned in pain, as blood trickled from his mouth to the ground. He arched his body forwards, clutching his tummy. His trusty sabre left his hands and fell onto the ground. But, Hendrickson wasn't doing himself any favors, as this pose was in a perfect position to receive another vicious follow-up.

PPPOWWWW!!!

Hendrickson spun 360 degrees in the air, before obeying the law of gravity. His jaw had shifted slightly, from the last punch to the side of the face. He was sprawled on the ground, reeling from the pain and utter disbelief of the current situation.

Douglas stood beside Hendrickson's sprawled body, his eyes fixated condescendingly on him, like some god, staring down at an insect. He then kicked at his side, with his instep, like he was some, disgusting piece of thrash and authoritatively urged in a grunt,

"Get up, we aren't done yet!!"