Oryn could not think. His mind went blank, and then a sense of danger rose up within him. He realized then that if he did not do anything, he would surely die. It was such a strange realization for someone who had dominated unchecked for so long that it took a while for him to actually move.

In that short pause, a stone bullet slammed into his shield and weakened it, quickly followed by two others. The last passed through and slammed into his shoulder, tearing into his flesh and getting stuck in the bones.

Oryn grunted and moved backward, his left hand gesturing to make his shield tighter while his eyes flashed with pain and desperation.

What made him even angrier was the fact that his opponent, the barbarian, was bending down to carefully select the stone he would use as his weapon!

The First Commander wasn't the only one who felt insulted. The whole of the Winged people felt anger and fear as they watched the pit.

The Jaded Lord's face was expressionless, but the air around him was charged with the power of lightning and thunder.

Commander Oryn dug his fingers into his wound, grunting and gasping as he dug out the stone. He would use his opponent's carelessness against him. "I have never been humiliated like this before! Much less by a barbarian! Born slaves!"

Suddenly, Galthor, who had been picking stones, froze and slowly looked up. "What did you just say?"

Commander Oryn laughed. He was losing it, and his dignified image was long gone, replaced by desperate denial. "You are nothing but born slaves! You and your people are even lower than the minor races, and the only reason you're not a race of slaves is because the major races don't want a single race to monopolize you!

"Does that pain you? Ahaha! Does that make you angry?"

Galthor watched him calmly. He straightened. "Of course it does. But why should I deny it? It is as you said, we are slaves. But I am here now."

Commander Oryn stared blankly at him. He had wanted to make his opponent angry so as to use it in the fight against him. But how come he didn't even get angry? Instead, Oryn was the one getting angry at the arrogance Galthor just showed him.

His eyes flared, and he roared, "You bastard!"

With that, he brought his hands together in a resounding clap that spread a ripple through the space in the pit. With a loud whooshing sound, the air around was sucked toward him as he became the center of a storm.

Galthor looked at him curiously. "This guy still had something else he hadn't shown me?"

He couldn't help but feel jealous. He's a fucking god and yet no special powers!

Indeed, Oryn was now the center of a storm. The winds that were sucked in were getting compressed at a rate that was clearly visible to the naked eye.

The compressed air then formed a gigantic armor four times the size of the Commander around him, with him in the middle. The new form held a long spear in its hand, and when the mouth opened, it came out with a heaven-shattering roar. "Barbarian! You forced me to use this secret technique! I'll make you pay for it! Your people will pay for it!"

'..isn't that just too much? I'm not the one that said you should get your ass kicked by me so easily, so why are you trying to take it out on me and my people?..'

Galthor looked at him with a dark eye and said firmly, "This duel is only between the two of us."

The answer he got was the bastard spreading his wings and causing a hurricane to spring up so hard and fast that some of the spectators were blown away from their place by the oppressive force.

'..ah, you're really serious this time..' Galthor couldn't help but think, grimacing as he felt the same danger he had felt from fighting the cursed monster. It wasn't quite the same, as the monster was absolutely terrifying.

But they both represented danger.

Commander Oryn folded his translucent wings and dived forward. His speed was as fast as the wind... literally.

One second he was there, and the next he was right in front of Galthor.

A punch of compressed winds came down and slammed into his crossed hands like a train.

Galthor felt a flash of pain.

The ground cracked with the force of the punch, and his bones groaned and shook as he was rammed backward, drilling into the wall of the pit.

He didn't waste time as he dug himself out of the wall, still feeling his bones trembling with pain. The flesh and muscles of his hands that took the hit were rapidly healing, but he had received some internal injuries that brought blood to his throat, which he forcibly swallowed.

He needed to end things. His Divine Aura wouldn't last much longer, and he was already using a lot of it to heal himself.

"Fucking bastard," Galthor cursed as he jumped away from where he was just as a spear of wind crashed into the wall with a loud explosive sound.

Galthor dug his hands into the ground, his fingers covered in his Divine Aura, easily scooped up stones that he flung at the Commander without ceremony.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The stone bullets slammed into the giant wind armor and shoved it back, sending it staggering. The next moment, Galthor lunged at the Commander.

With Oryn staggered, he could only use his left hand to try and stop the barbarian. But Galthor brought his hands together midair and then slammed them into the hand coming his way.

A cracking sound filled the air, followed by a howl as the compressed winds shattered and tore loose, ripping out the entire left shoulder.

This move brought Galthor face to face with the Commander.

The two of them stared at each other, one on the ground and the other in the middle of a giant suit of wind armor. They knew they were both on their last legs.

Their last attacks would determine who would live and die.

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