Sorry, so tired ahahahah.

Despite waking up under the pressure of having to take on two fights today, I felt surprisingly at ease. Perhaps it was the assurance that I was already a disciple of the temple...I sort of questioned the point of fighting at all. Wearily, I got up from bed at the insistence of Mistress Veronika and proceeded to wash up and put on the repaired costume before heading down to the arena.

The routine was familiar—it was the same old thing. The announcer would come up and holler to the crowd. The crowd would then respond with equally enthusiastic cheers. I would come out of the dugout upon being summoned, then be introduced briefly, face my opponent, and finally we would fight.

I was not very spirited about this, but I wasn't too dispassionate about it either. Nonetheless, it occurred to me just how much I did not favor competitions. At a certain point, they could get a little tiring. I would still like to win, but I wasn't as keen on competing that much for anything.

Mushroom Soup...was the very opposite of my solemn mood, though. The mushroom head costume really contrasted my ferocious and more solemn appearance. He was sharp, focused, and was brimming with that intense desire for victory.

Ah, the energies of youth. These were one of the times I was reminded about how I was such an old soul. I could feel the failure of synchronicity between my memories and my actual age...then again, I could treat it as though time had stopped for me when I died. I could still be a teenager...with memories equivalent to a thirty-year-old lady.

"Lionheart does not seem very enthusiastic," the announcer said.

Wow, I'm so amazed this guy could even notice this.

Anyway, it was true. I guess this was one of my moodier days.

Mushroom Soup did not take this to heart, however. He stepped forward heartily, bouncing on his feet like the joyful mushroom he was. Like his name implied, his Deliverer was the dragon of the sea. His talent over water was quite impeccable too. When he'd gone against Maun earlier, I saw a great potential waiting to be unraveled. Unfortunately, while talented, he did not exactly have a sophisticated control over his ability.

"What's wrong with you now?" Amber asked.

"Nothing. It's just...I woke up and found I'm very tired. I don't feel like doing anything today," I replied.

"That does not mean you can throw away your matches," he said.

"I don't plan to," I said.

If anything, this state of mind had calmed my overactive brain. If it was every other day, I'd have described Mushroom Soup in a hundred sentences or more before focusing on the things that actually mattered.

I was a little absentminded until the start of the fight resounded in the arena with a clap. Mushroom Soup stepped in with conviction, throwing a spinning kick at my face. My eyes sharply glanced at the oncoming foot. Casually, I stepped back. There was not a lot of wasted energy in my maneuver, and I could instantly see the benefits of my calmness in the situation.

He followed it up with another kick using the other foot. This time it was the hammer type, targeting my unguarded stomach—or so he thought. I caught his foot and held it still while I threw a kick of my own, landing a strike in his most sensitive zone.

Mushroom Soup gasped.

"That was such a casual counter from Lionheart's side!" the announcer exclaimed. "What is up with our kitty today? How come she became like the mother of the pride within a night?!"

I did not allow Mushroom Soup to recover. I was not in the mood to prolong the fight more than necessary, so while he was trying to recover from the burning agony that had erupted from his crotch, I stepped in. I grabbed his head and shoved his face down to my knee, then threw him back with a bleeding nose.

"How did you get to the top with such lousy defenses?" I asked him.

The monk climbed onto the stage to begin the count, but it didn't take long for him to gather his bearings and return to the game. Had he given up then, I would have questioned his abilities more thoroughly.

I took a step back and waited in my corner as he struggled to get up. That first exchange between us had taken a chunk off of his enthusiasm and confidence. He now regarded me with some hesitance, as though he'd been slapped with a misconception somehow. Now, there was more wariness as he inched close.

"I didn't expect you to be that ruthless," Amber said.

"I'm not in the mood for this and that," I exasperatedly replied in my head. "Besides, I still have a fight in the afternoon. I don't intend to spend all my energy in this one. Got to think ahead."

"What are you waiting for?" I asked. "We don't have all day."

The impatience was thick in my tone. Mushroom Soup awkwardly hopped into his stance. I could sense the hesitation in his movements. Purposely, I let my head lower, eyeing him up and down before finally setting my sights on his crotch. I then lifted my gaze once more and, like I wanted, he subconsciously pinched his thighs together.

I didn't intend to attack that part repeatedly. I still intended to leave my opponent some mercy and allow them to have children in the future, but I wasn't kind enough to spare them from the psychological play of intimidation and implication. Since I had already built on my ruthless countenance at the onset of the fight, I intended to carry through till the end.

With that, we began another dance.

"That intimidation worked a little too well," I said in my mind.

"That's because you're unconsciously drawing out an aura of death," Amber replied in my mind.

"What?" I was slightly alarmed, but I did not let it show on my face—not like it mattered with the mask and all. Mushroom Soup tentatively stepped in with a more cautious attack. This time, he trod lightly and made calculated use of his strength and ability. He sent a combination attack of punch and kicks while simultaneously advancing, forcing me to step back and evade.

I appreciated the thoughtfulness behind his attacks, but I could not help but be distracted a little by the statement that Amber had given earlier.

I moved in with a glare and Mushroom Soup cowered back almost instinctively. His knees nearly gave in and the punch he tried swinging ended up being a lousy throw of his fist.

I tested my theory within the next five or so minutes. Mushroom Soup would persistently gather his courage to issue an attack my way, but whenever I moved in to counter, his instincts would start to make a mess out of his responses.

I realized his fight-or-flight reactions were completely all over the place.

"What's happening?"

"It's new moon tonight," he told me. "And even if you can't see it right now, that full moon is there behind daylight skies. I think you'll have some trouble tonight especially. So I suggest you be careful when the evening approaches. This will only get worse."

"You're kidding, right?" I whispered.

"Why do you think I can talk to you?" he pointed out. "I can usually connect when in the praying grounds, but since I've stepped out of the comfort zone, aren't you a least bit curious?"

"Being curious takes a lot of energy." I caught Mushroom Soup's fist that came hovering just above my nose, then countered by pulling him into a wrestling lock. I brought my opponent down with me onto the ground, locking my legs around his waist to begin the hold. He did not intend to go along with me and sent a flustered punch, trying to target my neck.

I was guarding against this attack, so I manage to evade it. I carefully guided his fist so that it missed his target, making it so that it crossed my chest and slid over my shoulder. By now he was completely trapped in my hold, so I quickly began the compression, squeezing down on my thighs and locking my ankles together so that he could not get away.

In an attempt to break away, he pushed down on his legs, trying to lift me up. I shifted to a high bar position, pulling my legs just above his shoulders and maintaining a tight pull on his arm. I threw some of my weight down to press him back onto the ground, then rolled the both of us so that he ended up slamming face first into the dirt.

His neck was forced to turn to allow him to breathe. This was just the position I wanted. I pressed him down and maintained that pressure on both his shoulder, his arm, and to an extent his neck.

It was a little tiring having to hop and jump around. I preferred rolling around suffocating my enemies and cutting off their blood circulation rather than kicking and punching at their weak points. For me, it saved a lot of effort, and I could take advantage of my small physique to really get into places.

The announcer's screaming voice cut in. "Look at that impressive sequence! Mushroom Soup is getting rolled around like a dumpling! I'm quite certain that by the end of this fight, he won't just be appetizer—he'll be main course and a side dish too!"

I snorted at the joke.

"Should I be worried?" I asked after a while, referring to the whole death aura business.

"You should be."

"Is this why I almost unconsciously called on death in my previous fight with Black Flame?"

"You're overthinking," Amber replied.

Feeling my overactive mind returning, I pressed down the conflicted emotions in my chest and turned my focus back into the fight. Mushroom Soup was restlessly squirming in my hold, unable to break out of my grip.

"Why d'you even choose Mushroom Soup as your name?" I asked him.

"I-it's..." he grunted, "my favorite..."

"I see." I waited for a bit. "So, what now? Are you still going to struggle or are you going to want to wait to pass out before you declare your loss?" I asked him.

There was no reply.

I waited a few seconds...but it seemed he'd already really passed out.

The monk came in to break me off of Mushroom Soup before I ended up killing the guy. He then began the count.

That moment was a little inexplicable to me. I'd struggled a long way to get to where I was standing now and, for a bit there, I felt like this victory came in a little too easy.

I watched as the monk counted down from ten to zero, then stepped back leisurely when the announcer declared my victory to an enthusiastic crowd. Meanwhile, the medics rushed forward to check on the mushroom boy's situation, taking his pulse. After confirming he'd merely passed out from the lack of oxygen supply to the brain, they pulled him onto a stretcher and rushed off with him.

"Mushroom Soup has been defeated and Lionheart steps up to issue a challenge for second place in the competition! Folks! It looks like we. Are. Getting. A remaatttttccchhhh!"  he screamed.

The whole arena was nearly broken down by the resounding cheers that came in reply. I looked around as I breathed heavily, feeling myself remaining caged within that air of gloom. Perhaps I wasn't really in a low mood just from my own doing—it was most probably because of my element manifesting. Of course, it wasn't like I would deliberately put myself in a low mood like it was something I could do at will. However, I was usually in much better control than now.

Oh, well...Since it was like this, then let it be. I could most probably use this "death aura" for my fight against Black Flame. I would think of it as some sort of passive skill.

"Ha!" I smiled widely under the mask. "Look at this deus ex machina business. Just as I was so hopeless about not being able to use my element, there's actually such a good thing as a passive skill."

"Don't celebrate too soon. The aura of death goes both ways. There's you and there's the enemy," Amber told me. "Careful not to lose control. Remember, Black Flame nearly made you lose your marbles. The same scenario might end up happening again if you're not careful."

"Fine. I will be."

It might be testing the limits...but I had to learn about my abilities one or another, right? Since no one was going to teach me about it, I had to make the best of learning opportunities such as this one. It didn't always have to be a tragedy.