I Conquer Hell and Heaven With 666 Trillion Coins

Standing opposite him was Percival.

Percival’s translucent figure shimmered faintly, his silver hair swaying despite the absence of wind. His expression remained calm, almost worried, yet Dean had learned not to mistake that look for weakness.

"Ready, master?" Percival asked.

Dean tightened his grip around the Spear of Dawn.

"I’ve been ready. Come."

Without another word, Percival vanished.

Dean’s eyes widened.

"Fast," he thought.

A cold sensation rushed down his spine. He twisted instinctively.

Clang!

The butt of his spear intercepted a spectral blade inches from his neck. The impact echoed throughout the arena.

Dean barely had time to breathe before Percival disappeared again.

Left. No...Right.

Every attack came from a different angle, forcing Dean to spin, duck, block, and retreat in rapid succession.

The spear became an extension of his body, carving glowing arcs through the air as Holy Power coated its surface.

"Clang!"

"Clang!"

"Clang!"

Each collision sent sparks of golden light meeting mana and holy power.

Percival never stopped moving.

"Too slow," the ghost remarked, appearing behind Dean.

Dean instantly thrust backwards.

Percival smiled.

The spear pierced straight through him.

"...!"

It was only an afterimage.

A kick slammed into Dean’s ribs.

"Boom!"

Dean slid nearly ten meters before digging the spear into the stone and grass to stop himself.

He coughed once before standing again.

"You hit harder than last time," Dean admitted.

Percival shrugged.

"You’ve become predictable."

Dean frowned.

"Predictable?" he thought.

He had been reacting to everything perfectly...hadn’t he?

Seeing Dean’s confusion, Percival lifted his sword.

"You fight with your eyes, master," he said without thinking twice.

"My eyes?" Dean asked.

"You wait until you see the attack."

The ghost slowly pointed the blade toward Dean’s chest.

"A true warrior already knows where the strike will come from before it begins. And even if you couldn’t see it, you could feel it; you should feel it."

Dean took a deep breath, and then he closed his eyes. Silence filled the field for a second.

Percival raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

The ghost vanished once more. This time smiling before doing that.

Dean listened. He did not do it simply, not with his ears, not with his eyes.

His Holy Power spread across the battlefield like invisible water.

Tiny ripples.

One...

Two...

There!

Dean spun.

The spear swept across the arena in one fluid motion.

"Boom!"

Percival blocked, but the force behind the strike sent him sliding several meters backwards.

The ghost’s expression finally changed.

A bigger smile this time.

"Better."

Dean opened his eyes.

"So I finally landed one," he said, smiling.

"You sensed me," replied Percival.

"I guessed," Dean added without stopping.

"No."

Percival shook his head.

"You felt me," he said in a precise voice tone.

Dean looked down at his hand.

The Holy Power surrounding the spear pulsed gently, but this time it seemed somehow, somewhat, it was Dean who used the power.

Was this another application of Holy Power?

He didn’t have time to think.

Percival rushed forward again, and this time Dean didn’t hesitate.

Rather than waiting for the attack, he charged. The distance between them vanished in an instant.

Their weapons collided dozens of times within seconds. Each strike became smoother than the last.

Dean stopped relying solely on sight. He followed instinct. Followed the flow of Holy Power Energy that he had.

Percival’s attacks, once impossible to read, slowly became clearer.

His shoulders shifted before every slash. His footing revealed the next direction, and even his ghostly aura fluctuated moments before each movement.

Dean adapted.

Again.

And again.

Then he saw it.

A tiny opening.

Dean stepped inside Percival’s guard. His shoulder crashed into the ghost’s chest. Percival staggered.

Dean spun the spear.

The blade of the spear halted against Percival’s neck.

Silence. For several seconds, neither of them moved.

Finally, Percival laughed.

A genuine laugh.

"Excellent master!"

Dean lowered the spear, breathing heavily.

"I won?"

Percival shook his head.

"No."

Before Dean could react, the ghost tapped two fingers against Dean’s forehead.

"If this had been a real fight..."

Dean suddenly felt the icy edge of a spectral blade resting against the back of his neck.

His eyes widened.

Percival had never moved.

"...How?"

The ghost smiled knowingly.

"I let you believe you’d reached my real body."

The illusion shattered like glass.

"I was useless before because the angels who were holding me down literally didn’t allow me to use my mana."

Percival remained exactly where he had begun.

"You’ve improved tremendously," the ghost said. "Enough that most opponents beneath your level would already be dead."

Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"But not you."

Percival sheathed his blade.

"Not me. I have fought in heaven for a really long time. They were just duels, and I mostly, almost always lost. Still, that made me grow, master."

A faint smile appeared on Dean’s face.

"Then we’ll do it again."

Percival’s silver eyes gleamed.

"Again."

The two warriors returned to their stances as the morning sun climbed higher, the training ground once more filling with the thunder of steel, spectral energy, and brilliant bursts of Holy Power.

When the duel resumed, many eyes had begun to gather around.

Or rather, they were now being watched by numerous servants and butlers.

Raviel had still not left the castle. As she was so worried about Dean, staying at the castle had been the right decision for her.

The stunningly beautiful woman was watching Dean’s face from a distance, with a hint of worry.

She hadn’t noticed how much he had improved; she had simply begun to constantly dwell on the thought, mixed with fear, that there was a real possibility he might die.

Just as these thoughts were practically consuming Raviel’s mind, Liam suddenly entered the room and, looking at the woman, said:

"My lady, there is a guest at the entrance to the land."

When Raviel heard this, he looked at Liam curiously and asked, "Who?"

Liam, without a moment’s hesitation, said the name:

"Harry Lawrance."

Raviel stood still for a second as she didn’t know who the heck this ’Harry’ guy was. Still, since Dean was busy, it was up to her to check what was going on.

"Let’s go then," said Raviel, her face turned from worried to serious in an instant.

While Dean and Percival were duelling, she would handle the other business.

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