Chapter 1021 - 1020: Heart Blight

The blast tore a crater into the arena.

Dark slabs burst apart. Chunks of stone struck the surrounding barrier, sending sheets of light racing across its curved surface. The front rows shook beneath the spectators as dust swallowed the fighting ground.

"Get back!"

"The barrier’s holding!"

A Daemon who had risen halfway from his seat sank down again, staring into the cloud.

Gradually, the dust began settling.

A cracked earth sphere stood near the crater’s edge. Whole sections of its outer shell had been stripped away, exposing two more layers of compressed stone beneath.

A hand pushed through the innermost layer.

The demonic energy holding the structure together faded. Stone crumbled around Simon as he rose, brushing grit from his shoulder.

He had begun raising those defences before giving the order to the cursed spirit.

Across the crater, Joren was alive.

A broken shield of black light surrounded him. Behind it, he stood hunched over, blood dripping from his chin.

His coat had burned open along his chest, and one side of his face was blistered. Cuts covered his arms. A cracked pendant hung from his neck, while a metal band around his left wrist released its last flicker of light.

His protection hadn’t closed quickly enough.

But it had kept him alive.

’Those defensive artifacts aren’t bad.’

Simon walked around a fallen slab.

Joren saw him approaching and spat blood onto the floor.

"You despicable bastard. You used my own cursed spirit-"

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I used your cursed spirit against you, why are you complaining so much."

Simon shook his head with a disappointed expression.

"I have to thank you though. You foolishly approached it and that saved me some trouble."

Joren’s teeth ground together.

He had had enough.

The boy could destroy his cursed spirits without breaking a sweat. He could even steal them.

But he had yet to face what made a Heart Daemon truly dangerous.

Joren pressed two fingers against his own chest.

His pale eyes darkened.

Simon stopped and frowned.

He could perceive that something had reached him.

His body wasn’t injured. His demonic energy flowed normally, and nothing had struck the barrier around his sea of consciousness.

Yet his desire to take another step suddenly faltered.

A thought surfaced.

’I should lower my head.’

Simon frowned.

He didn’t believe it. The thought came with an urge that felt strangely close to his own, pressing against the decision he had already made.

Then he sensed something taking shape.

Deep within his inner heart, a thin figure crouched with its head bowed. It had his face, though its features were twisted into an expression of shame.

A narrow crown sat crookedly upon its head. Beneath it, the figure’s mouth moved.

’He is above you. You shouldn’t have defied him.’

Simon watched it with growing interest.

This wasn’t a memory Joren had found. Nor was it another cursed spirit trying to enter his mind.

It was forming from the feelings Joren’s strange attack was forcing upon him.

The figure lifted its head.

Black threads extended from its fingers, seeking somewhere to fasten.

Simon noticed what happened when they reached farther.

They recoiled.

Above the arena, Ancestral Elder Bone Prophet closed his book.

"Heart Blight. He’s finally used it."

Ancestral Elder White Death watched Simon standing motionless below.

"He’s trying to plant a heart demon."

"A heart demon doesn’t need to tear through flesh," Ancestral Elder Bone Prophet said. "Once it takes hold, the victim starts helping it. Doubt, shame, resentment. Anything that makes them turn against themselves."

"I’ve heard that Joren once made a Minor Demon King drop his weapon with that ability," Ancestral Elder Black Tide said. "The man couldn’t bring himself to fight afterward."

Their voices remained inside the gallery’s sound-blocking formation.

Grand Elder Night Widow gave a quiet laugh.

"And now he’s trying it on someone with four natural Seeds of Sin."

Ancestral Elder Black Tide turned toward her.

"His racial ability doesn’t depend entirely on the blessing."

"No," Grand Elder Night Widow replied. "But he’s using his artificial Seed of Pride to force Blackmoon’s heart beneath his own. Against this opponent, that’s a terrible choice."

Grand Elder Dread Crown’s eyes remained on the arena.

"Those four seeds came from Blackmoon himself. They aren’t going to let Joren decide what he should feel so easily."

"Then the technique won’t work?" Ancestral Elder Cinder Queen asked.

"Watch," Grand Elder Golden Tyrant said.

Within his inner heart, Simon examined the crouching figure.

It tried to draw him into its shame, making obedience seem reasonable. He could feel the pressure behind every false thought.

His will to fight should have weakened. His confidence should have begun turning into a reason to despise himself.

However, neither happened.

Pride, Greed, Gluttony, and Wrath held firm within him.

The four seeds were like anchors. Whatever Joren tried to pull out of place, they kept it from moving.

Fearless also helped Simon observe calmly, but fear wasn’t what this attack was using. It wanted him to accept Joren’s authority and begin breaking himself beneath it.

His own Pride reacted with disgust.

’So that’s what you’re trying to do.’

The heart demon rose unsteadily. Its threads reached again, only to break before they could take hold.

Simon could appreciate the danger.

Had it succeeded, he might have stood there believing he deserved whatever Joren chose to do next.

But against the four seeds, it couldn’t even establish itself.

He fed power into them.

The figure’s head jerked upward.

Pride resisted the foreign authority. The other three seeds answered, pressing against the influence surrounding the unfinished heart demon.

Its crown split.

The figure opened its mouth, trying to force another thought upon him.

Simon pushed harder.

Cracks crossed its face and spread down its body. The threads snapped, and the figure shattered before it could finish forming.

The false shame vanished.

Simon blinked as he saw the real world.

Joren doubled over.

Cough!

Cough!

A mouthful of blood struck the stone between his boots. He stumbled backward, one hand clutched against his chest.

The power he had driven into Simon’s inner heart had been broken while his Will was bound to it.

"How?"

Simon looked at him.

Joren wiped his mouth, only for more blood to spill over his fingers.

"How did you break it?"

Simon shook his head.

"Heart Daemons do have a nasty ability. I’ll give you that."

He resumed walking toward Joren.

"But your blessing is a poor fit for that trick. All it tried to do was make me feel beneath you."

Joren’s face twisted.

"You-"

"You couldn’t have picked a worse opponent."

A ripple of demonic energy spread around Joren’s feet. He tried to gather it, but the backlash had left his control uneven.

Simon lifted a finger.

"No, no, no. You’ve had your fun. I’ve let you jump around long enough."

He raised a second finger.

"My turn."

The Seed of Pride stirred.

Joren’s knees slammed into the floor.

CRACK!

The ground broke beneath him. An unseen force straightened his back and raised his chin until he was looking directly at Simon.

He tried to stand.

The demonic energy around him buckled beneath another surge of Simon’s power. His injured body shook, but his knees remained planted.

"What’s holding him down?"

Someone near the front leaned over the railing.

Joren’s hands scraped against the stone. He wasn’t kneeling willingly. That much was obvious.

In the gallery, curiosity flashed across Grand Elder Dread Crown’s face.

"He’s making the surrounding power obey him," he said softly. "So that’s how his Pride works."

Simon crossed the remaining distance.

Joren glared up at him. His protective artifacts had gone dark, and the injuries from the explosion were bleeding again.

The backlash from Heart Blight had cost him the moment he needed to recover.

Simon stopped in front of him.

"You fought well."

Joren’s expression changed.

"You were certainly more entertaining than your brother."

His fingers dug into the fractured floor.

"But I’ve seen what I wanted to see. I don’t need you anymore."

Joren bared his teeth, drawing breath for another curse.

Simon brought his hands together.

The thumb, index finger, and middle finger of each hand touched their counterparts.

Then he separated them.

Joren’s arms lifted from the ground.

He looked down sharply.

Pressure gripped his upper arms and pulled them outward. He forced demonic energy into his shoulders, trying to keep them in place.

Simon moved his hands farther apart.

Crack

Crack

Two sharp cracks sounded.

"ARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!"

Joren screamed as his arms were dragged out of their sockets.

For an instant, they hung at an unnatural angle.

Then Simon spread his hands.

RIIIIP!!!!

Both arms tore free and fell onto the ruined stone.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Joren remained on his knees, screaming, with blood running from the places where his arms had been.