Prince of Darkness (II)
"Hey, f*cker, get up and let me beat you to a pulp," Matthew sneered, flaunting his aura in the arena they had made for the two.
No trees or even grass adorned it—a barren land, the platform for what they believed would be a gruesome battle.
"Who do you think will win?" one of the mages holding up the barrier inquired of his comrade.
"This isn't even a question. It's clear the Black Death will win... I can't feel his aura, which only means he's stronger than me," a white-robed mage responded, certain of his claim.
Most shared the same thought as they watched, ready to aid their comrade when the time was due.
On the other hand, Ossa ignored Matthew, his eyes still closed, meditating in preparation for his true battle, one with the prince of darkness.
"Tch... Have it your way..." Matthew clicked his tongue, numerous fire bullets forming around him.