I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 361: Show me, Jack

Jack stood at the crater’s edge, looking down at his opponent with an expression that lingered for more.

”You know what I love about fighting strong opponents?” Jack asked casually, as if they were discussing philosophy rather than standing in the aftermath of brutal violence, ”They bring out the best in you. Most people break too easily. No challenge, no excitement, no opportunity to really test myself.”

He jumped down into the crater, landing beside Rhys with casual grace.

”But you?” Jack continued, grabbing Rhys by the front of his shirt and hauling him upright. ”You keep standing up. Keep fighting back. Even when you’re outmatched, even when you’re taking damage that should end the fight, you refuse to quit.”

Oscar’s tip pressed against Rhys’s sternum, the point dimpling skin without quite breaking through.

”So let me return the favor,” Jack said quietly, his red eyes meeting Rhys’s fading green gaze. ”Let me show you what I can really do when someone’s strong enough to survive it.”

He pulled Oscar back for what looked like a finishing thrust.

Wind exploded from Rhys’s body with force that caught Jack off guard. The concentrated burst pushed him backward, creating enough space for Rhys to stumble out of immediate striking range.

”Good!” Jack approved. ”Desperation pushes you further! That’s what I’m talking about!”

His laughter echoed through the garrison as he advanced again, Oscar spinning in complex patterns that created walls of red lightning between him and his prey.

Rhys tried to mount a defense. His daggers moved in the forms Sylph had taught him, wind enhancement making each strike faster than human eyes could track.

He created barriers, launched wind blades, and attempted the vacuum-edge technique that had impressed Jack earlier.

Nothing worked.

Jack’s assault had transcended technical precision and entered the realm of overwhelming aggression. He attacked from angles that shouldn’t have been possible, used Abyssal Step mid-combination to attack from behind, above, and below. Oscar struck high when Rhys defended low, swept when he expected thrusts, and thrust when he prepared for sweeps.

And with each exchange, Jack’s excitement grew more evident.

He laughed when Rhys managed a good dodge. Grinned when a wind blade actually forced him to block rather than evade. Showed genuine approval when Sylph’s defensive manifests adapted to predict his attack patterns.

But approval didn’t mean mercy.

Oscar caught Rhys in the left knee, buckling the leg. A follow-up strike to the right shoulder dropped that arm completely. A thrust to the stomach drove the air from his lungs and left him gasping.

Jack grabbed Rhys’s hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat. Oscar’s blade pressed against the vulnerable flesh with just enough pressure to draw a thin line of blood.

For a moment, the garrison held its breath.

Then Jack released Rhys and kicked him in the chest, sending the elf sprawling backward to land in a broken heap.

”Still conscious?” Jack asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. ”Sylph must be working overtime to keep your brain functioning. That’s... actually really impressive. Most people’s spirits can’t maintain healing at this level.”

Rhys lay on his back, staring at the garrison ceiling through vision that swam with spots. His green tattoos flickered like dying embers. Blood pooled beneath him from a dozen wounds that Sylph couldn’t heal faster than they accumulated.

He tried to stand. His body wouldn’t respond. Muscles refused to obey commands, too damaged and exhausted to function, even with spirit enhancement pushing them beyond normal limits.

’I’m sorry,’ Sylph’s voice whispered in his consciousness, carrying genuine distress. ’I can’t... he’s too strong. I can’t protect you from this.’

’Not... your fault,’ Rhys thought back, the mental communication growing fuzzy as consciousness threatened to slip away. ’He’s... just...’

’On another level,’ Sylph finished. ’I know. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone fight so aggressively.’

Jack walked forward slowly, Oscar resting casually on his shoulder. His grin had faded to something more contemplative, though the excitement still blazed in his red eyes.

”You fought well,” he said quietly. ”Better than I expected. You’ve grown strong, Rhys. Genuinely strong. You’ve developed combat sense and spent hours training to fight me.”

He raised Oscar for what looked like a final strike....

Small lights erupted from Rhys’s body like fireflies scattering from disturbed grass.

Green luminescence gathered in the air above the broken elf, coalescing from scattered motes into a recognizable form. Six inches tall, yellow hair flowing in non-existent wind, black eyes with green irises blazing with protective fury.

Sylph manifested outside her contractor’s body.

”That’s far enough, human.” Her voice carried none of its usual playful mischief. This was the ancient wind spirit speaking. The being who’d existed for centuries before humans learned to wipe their own ass.

Wind gathered around her tiny form with force that made Jack’s hair whip backward. The air pressure in the garrison spiked dramatically as atmospheric currents responded to her direct command.

A tornado formed, small but deadly. Its funnel was perhaps ten feet wide, but it contained power that could level buildings. The vortex screamed toward Jack with speed that left no time for evasion.

Jack tried to brace himself, but the wind caught him like a giant’s hand. He flew backward, Oscar torn from his grip as the tornado lifted him twenty feet into the air and slammed him into the garrison wall.

Stone cracked. Dust exploded outward. Jack dropped to the ground in a controlled roll, coming up in a crouch with one hand pressed against the wall for balance.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

He wiped it away with the back of his hand, stared at the red smear, and then...he smiled.

Not the manic grin from the fight. This was something quieter, more dangerous. The expression of someone who’d just found exactly what they were looking for.

Jack stood slowly, his red eyes finding Rhys’s broken form where the elf lay gasping for breath. Their gazes locked across the distance, and Jack’s smile widened fractionally

.

”You said I used borrowed power in the war,” Jack said quietly, his voice carrying clearly despite the wind still howling around Sylph. ”You said my strength came from divine blessing rather than my own capability.”

He looked up at the sky, his expression shifted as a soft smile crossed his face.

”Let me show you what borrowed power really looks like.”

Jack’s voice rose, cutting through the wind with authority that made the air itself pause.

”All-Father, I beseech you!”

The garrison’s carefully maintained magical illumination snuffed out like candles in a hurricane. Darkness crashed down, causing the nobles to cry out in alarm. The sky visible through the structure’s open sections turned black in a matter of seconds.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Chiron Stormblood’s head snapped upward, his eyes widening with recognition and hunger. White lightning exploded across his body in crackling arcs that illuminated his face with stark intensity. His grin spread from ear to ear, feral and eager, as he felt the divine power responding to Jack’s call.

”Yes,” Chiron breathed, his voice carrying genuine excitement. ”Show me. I want to see your white lightning for myself.” Chiron gripped the edge, cracking the stone as his excitement started to boil over.