The Duke's Passion

798  A worthy opponent

[ COLOSSEUM ]

Claude clenched his teeth, pulling out his sword from his enemy's chest. Blood splashed on him and the already red ground, making no difference in the amount of blood that flooded the floor. Their enemies just keep on coming, exhausting all the warriors of the Colosseum. If not for Claude, the warriors would just fall after putting up a fight. "These motherfuckers…" his voice shook, catching another undead from the corner of his eyes. "Shit!" Claude breathed out as his eyes shone, turning his head to the undead that was about to smash another warrior that was carrying an injured comrade. Before the undead could reach the two, the hand of the pocket watch, Auron, hid under his clothes, moved back a few ticks. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The distance between the undead widened a little, and when the pocket watch started moving normally, Claude appeared right behind the undead. With one swift movement, he swung his sword, severing the undead's head. Thud!

The warrior and the injured fellow on his back froze, gazing down at the headless undead near their feet. Their eyes were blank, moving them up to the bloody Claude. The latter was panting for air, not saying a word or showing the slightest remorse at beheading someone on the spot. "Tha — thanks." The warrior stuttered, flinching the second he met Claude's eyes. "You better move quickly," said Claude along with his deep breaths. "What the hell are you even doing? Go! I'll cover for you!" "Ye — yes."

Claude turned on his heel, not wasting a breath on the two of them. After clearing the path for them, Claude switched sides because a large wave of undead was coming on the back. Those capable led the warriors on the front line since knights were attacking from the front.

Claude was only a single person. Therefore, he had to choose. It was only rational that he would deal with the undead since they were even more persistent than a normal knight. Moreover, the warriors of the colosseum shouldn't be underestimated as well. The warriors in this place would fight every single day for survival. They were all champions here. Claude had to put total trust in those on the front to protect the injured warriors who were in the middle. All he could do was give support to everyone. Aside from fighting the undead, Claude would support them by manipulating time with discretion. There were times he would move time back for a few seconds or simply pause it to maintain a low casualty count. "I told myself I will never use Auron after what happened to Penny," his voice rumbled down his chest, facing another wave of undead coming to catch up to them. 'But… this time, I won't let them manipulate this fucking curse and screw everyone I care about.'  His eyes shone in bright red, his fangs growing even longer. Claude bent his knees slightly and then catapulted through the wave of undead like a bolt of lightning. This time, his movements were swift and efficient, beheading everyone in his vicinity. The only thing that this undead had as an advantage was that they were persistent and couldn't feel pain. But if someone knew how to kill them instantly, they wouldn't become a problem. One would just need to be familiar with this time of the battle, though. As Claude wiped out the undead following his group from the back, half of his attention was on the front line. Thus, he would pause time for the enemy knights to give the Warriors an advantage. After sparring before coming in here and spending time in Karo, Claude learned from Tilly he could manipulate time on people as well. If used correctly, Auron was a deadly weapon.

A dangerous one. The reason it was as powerful and useful as Lakresha. And also the very reason Stefan had shown an inkling before the regression. It was just that Claude, at that time, was too young to understand his divine weapon and bring its maximum potential.

Standing on the flood of blood and piles of already rotting bodies of the undead, Claude gasped for air. The downside of constantly using Auron was it was exhausting its holder. Each time he would pause time or reverse it for a few seconds, it would take a ton of Claude's energy. "We have to get out. Not yet." Claude was about to turn around to follow the group and rest for a little while since he wiped out the enemies from this side. However, just as he did, he heard this distinct footstep coming from the hallway behind him. His eyes glinted sharply, raising his eyes, setting them in the dark hallway behind. Claude didn't move a muscle, eyes fixed in the same direction. The footsteps grew louder with every passing second, and the dark aura coming from that direction grew even more powerful. "A worthy opponent has arrived," Claude remarked, watching a figure that was in the shadow. His eyes narrowed as that figure slowly slinked out of the shadows, revealing a tall man with a petite figure and a youthful face. "Tristan Willow," greeted Claude as the corner of his lips stretched from ear to ear. "Or should I call you Tristan Moriarty?"

Tristan didn't budge at Claude's correction, sizing up the young man from head to toe. "You've grown into a fine young man, Your Highness."

"And you didn't look different," Claude humored playfully, assessing his enemy that would hold him down for a little while. "So you're the one in charge of me, huh? I guess your father had foreseen this coming and sent you here."

"You people… had been causing disharmony in our peaceful land," said Tristan calmly, but his aura consistently grew. "That is why he sent me here to put a stop to this problem you are causing in our precious Colosseum."

Claude laughed in ridicule, twisting his body to face Tristan squarely. "No, little prince." He shook his head mildly, eyes glinting dangerously. In one single breath, Claude disappeared from his vantage point, only to reappear mid-air, his sword glinting on his side before he would launch an attack. "He sent you here because he doesn't see you as his son," Claude remarked, time slowing down as she moved his sword toward Tristan. "No sane father would send his son to his death."

Tristan slowly gazed up and despite the time manipulation, his lips curled up into a smirk.

"Na ah," he murmured as contempt filled his eyes.

It was too late for Claude to realize time didn't affect Tristan as a force assaulted his abdomen, sending Claude flying, crashing into the thick walls of the Colosseum.