My System Academy

The desolate frozen land oozed out an ominous aura. The blazing demonic essence was burning it into the deepest of hell.

A loud shockwave boomed out, blasting the top of a small mountain into fragments. A figure dazzled mid-air, trying to regain his balance while controlling the large demonic hand floating atop him.

"Demonic Frozen Fist!", Flinthal yelled.

The fist dazzled in crimson, punching out to the fast-approaching Garron covered in lightning cracks.

Garron grinned, charging his fist with divinity and clashing against Flinthal. The world slowed down for a bit before another explosion completely obliterated the small mountain.

The dead trees were pulverized into ashes and the land below the impact cratered 50 meters deep.

Flinthal and his demonic hand were both thrown back, stupefying him, 'Is this the strength of a true radiant knight?'

"You've grown weak!", Garron mocked in his divine assimilation form. He propelled into his enemy, pulling another charged punch.

Flinthal snorted and dodged to the sides. Garron missed his target, sliding for several meters before stopping.

He heard the air whistle as dark beams rained down. He punched them in quick succession, generating sparks while deflecting the dark beams away.

"Deflect this, high king!", Flinthal sent out the demonic hand.

Garron retaliated. He wanted to measure the strength of the hand.

He then noticed that the scarlet glow surrounding it intensified, 'The demonic essence is gathering and it's empowering the demonic hand!'

It was too late for him to retract his punch as both of them clashed against each other. Garron was thrown away, wavering his confidence after that short bout.

Garron worriedly thought, 'The assimilation might be divine but I still need to gather the divinity before it works. I'll try it again!'

"Haha! You're no match, high king! Surrender!", Flinthal said while launching out additional dark beams.

"Don't be too full of yourself, traitor!"

The lightning on his back was energized and lit up, shattering the earth beneath him. He jumped out, divinity and lightning powering his fists while encasing his skin in frostal ice armor.

Garron felt the surge of demonic essence flowing towards the demonic hand again, 'It is going through the back. Is it the eye from before?'

He clashed with the hand and was pushed away the second time. Flinthal became overjoyed after seeing the results.

A wide grin flashed behind the distorted dragon helmet.

'The eye of demonic strength will always overpower your attacks no matter how charged up they are! It may use a huge amount of demonic essence but the density of demonic essence in this area and the surrounding areas will give me the capacity to do that almost infinitely!'

Flinthal had Garron push him back so that they could move away from Arsolo Stronghold and utilize his demonic hand in this manner. He worried because Garron might see through something that obvious but it seemed that it was for naught.

"It's all useless, high king! How many times should we clash again for you to know the futility of your actions?!"

Garron stood up and spat the blood coming out of his mouth. The successive defeats agitated him and thought of ways to develop this battle in his favor.

'Sly old fool. No wonder he was acting weak earlier. I fell under his scheme.'

He took a deep breath and calmed his unnerving mind.

'Unless I can deal with that eye, that demonic hand will continue to overpower me.', he paused and continued, 'No, I don't have time to deal with it. My divine assimilation isn't going to last for an hour and the demonic essence may work both ways in offense and defense.'

'I would just waste a lot of opportunities if I put all my focus on that hand.'

He knuckled up and readied, 'I'll ignore the hand and see if it could catch up.'

The demonic hand gripped its fists and punched at Garron. The latter jumped away and evaded the hand.

He used his chivalric essence to increase his weight, landing quicker back to the ground and dashing upon Flinthal.

'This brat! Fuck, I can't move the hand on time!', Flinthal was taken aback and flapped his wings away from Garron.

He then spat out dark beams, accelerating his retreat.

Garron deflected them as usual until the last strike. He utilized his divinity and lightning, banishing the demonic essence flowing around the beam. He followed by hitting it at an angle which returned to Flinthal, now covered in divinity and lightning.

Flinthal reacted slower than the beam, causing it to tear a large hole in his left wing. He soon lost balance and fell defenseless on the ground, 'The demonic hand! Use the hand!'

Garron noticed a dark shadow looming above his head. It was the demonic hand aiming to flatten him to death.

'You have mistaken greatly, Flinthal!', he celebrated over the back of his mind.

When the demonic hand encountered Garron earlier, it exhibited no signs of weakness and gave Garron a hard time. However, now, Garron could observe that pressure point located below its wrist.

He charged up his divinity and shone with brilliance, powering his next strike aimed at that specific place.

The demonic essence surged again but halfway through, Garron struck the pressure point before it could completely gather.

"As if I'd let you do that again, old man!"

The hand jerked a bit before being blown away.

A crack emerged at the point of impact and Flinthal could feel his loss of connection with the demonic hand. Desperate, he gathered a huge amount of demonic essence and mixed it with his chivalric essence.

A strong gust of cold wind shivered the air and the ground. Garron was being pulled in the direction where a massive ball of frost slowly formed.

'A distraction?'

The howling of the winds annoyed him, 'Tsk, you want to see who's louder than the other?!'

He inhaled a mouthful of air, enlarging his chest and filling it up with divinity.

"Rargh!"

His scream was so loud that the sound waves created ripples and lines along their path. The frost ball broke and was blown backward instead.

Flinthal, who was behind, was bombarded with ice shards. He couldn't react because his ears were ringing intensely, preventing him from taking action.

'This is bad!'

Garron dashed forth and grasped Flinthal's head, smashing it to the ground. He then tossed the old man's body, making that he skidded continually.

Garron pursued Flinthal, echoing a thunderous roar for every step he took and leaving a trail of craters.

He kicked Flinthal into a charred mountain and kept pounding him. His strikes were so powerful that they shook the ground. Even the clouds in the sky dispersed away in fear.

The demonic hand lay on the cold barren wasteland, far from Flinthal's reach. Every arsenal that he had were thrashed solely by Garron.

"How dare you betray Norva Assili? Was it not enough that we let your clan survive despite the atrocious acts you have committed?!", Garron yelled.

Unfortunately, Flinthal didn't reply which angered him further. Flinthal had already lost his sense of balance and reality. A simple miscalculation like that was too costly, and he was now paying the consequence.

He was jolted awake, however, when Garron abruptly grabbed his wings and pulled with immense strength.

"Ahh! You-! You cannot do- this!", he begged for mercy.

"Tell that to the billions of northerners you killed!", Garron tugged the final stretch.

The wing's bones and muscles snapped, forcing it to detach from Flinthal's body and leak out a huge amount of blood.

Flinthal agonized, breaking his voice. He was so frustrated by the pain that he didn't know what to do or how to react to it.

Garron grunted, channeling the lightning on his back. He then targeted Flinthal's open wounds, frying the skin down until his epidermis.

Coupled with divinity, all the demonic essence inside Flinthal's body was purged as it coursed through his corrupted arteries and veins.

Flinthal no longer wailed. His body spasmed uncontrollably and his eyes were about to pass out.

"Time to confess, Flinthal! It's not like I'm forcing you, but it's better to listen to my demands unless you want to suffer a more painful experience than this!", Garron threatened.

He still remembered Elder Flock's instructions not to kill any significant person who might have direct involvement in this uprising.

"You cannot threaten me with words, my dear high king.", Flinthal readied his small sword but Garron saw through it.

A lightning bolt crashed upon his hands, rendering them crippled. Garron picked up the small sword and crushed it with his bare bear hands.

"Damn it, what do you want?! Kill me! There's no way I will confess!", Flinthal argued.

Garron shook his head, knowing that this was the best he could do unless he told Flinthal about something.

"Very stubborn?", He went over to him and grabbed his head then whispered, "How do the words, Heavenly Magic Academy, feel like to you?"

Flinthal's eyes widened in shock, "He-Heavenly Magic-! No! That can't be!"

"You can't say they don't exist, Flinthal. I'm pretty sure you had your suspicions about my daughter's master and that strange mage robe she was wearing earlier."

Garron's words were too cold for Flinthal to endure, "Don't take me to them! Don't take me to them! I will confess but kill me thereafter, promise me you damn of a warrior!"

Flinthal knew the immense rivalry between the Otherworld and the Heavenly Magic Academy. If he was caught in the firefight, things would not end up good for him.

"You are in no position to demand something from me, Flinthal!", Garron stepped on his feet and crushed it. Flinthal grunted but didn't scream.

Alas, Flinthal knew it was useless. Regardless of what would happen now, it was certain that the Heavenly Magic Academy would take custody of him. As for what would happen after that…

He soon laughed with tears pouring out of his weakened eyes.

"So this is how the great Siegfried Clan falls! How saddening!"

"Our downfall, caused by you father and daughter duo!", Flinthal cursed.

"What does Olivia have to do with this? Is it about her magic talent? Are you that despicable to keep the lineage of us northerners only to the path of a warrior, sacrificing the lives of millions in the process, Flinthal?", Garron angrily asked.

"You naïve high king. Do you not understand that your subservience and alliance is nothing but a mere front to weaken us?!", Flinthal argued, "The Norva Assili has grown dependent. Every day, we seek riches in the distant lands!"

"We have come far, truly far from when we were known as the warlords of the north!"

"Is that so?! And what about you and the frost dragon tribes, huh? Was the fun of torturing people too hard for you to not experience anymore?!", Garron countered.

"I'd rather rule over my people than be ruled by somebody else!"

"You're talking in circles, old man. Wasting me some time?!", Garron pressured Flinthal's other hand, "How does Olivia fit into all of this?"

Flinthal snorted, realizing something about Garron.

"So you didn't have any plans at all? Or are you acting dumb?", he turned his head away, "No matter what your reasons are, that is just as expected from a dense high king like you."

"Don't test my patience, Flinthal!", Garron spat.

Flinthal gritted his teeth and started narrating.

"We thought you were up to something when you let Olivia venture outside!"

"How deceitful! Your stupidity seemed to have given you an advantage!"

Flinthal regretted green lighting their move. If they behaved until Olivia returned, they could have understood the situation more and not botched the entire operation.

Garron stomped on his hand and shouted, "Stop there, Flinthal! Don't take me for a fool."

"I'm telling you the truth, Garron!"

"Then tell me first about that wizard entourage that visited Norva Assili back when Olivia was just a child?! It seems that you have a part to play in their disappearance, don't you think?"

"Someone like you won't easily give up like that."

Garron chuckled while shaking his head, "You crazy old bastard, plotting against us for a very long time now."

Flinthal stuttered, "Wh-what disappearance?! I don't know what you are talking about, high king."

Garron wanted to punch him to death, but he restrained himself. The old man was putting his patience to the test, and he wouldn't be able to hold back if it persisted.

"Talking to you might accidentally force me to kill you. Enough about this rubbish, Flinthal."

"Sleep well because the next time you wake up, it won't be pleasant for your taste.", Garron advised and knocked out Flinthal in the head.