I Conquer Hell and Heaven With 666 Trillion Coins

When he saw Dean’s bewilderment, Harry didn’t know what to say.

To be honest, deep down he felt a great deal of respect for him.

As for the name ’Cosmic Terror’... it really was a game filled with every conceivable kind of terror. The fears experienced within it were beyond count.

A person was considered lucky even if they managed to leave the game with just a single limb severed. To be forcibly dragged straight into such a terrifying place was, frankly, not something Harry could ever have imagined.

It was far too terrifying.

Almost every part of Harry’s body was covered in wounds. He even had deep scars on his face.

It was impossible to imagine what he’d been through.

As for Dean, the fact that he was dragged into this hell each time against his will, yet always emerged unscathed, was simply unbelievable.

Although... this time was an exception.

After all, Dean had nearly died.

"So you’re telling me... I don’t need to enter the game anytime it shows me the system window, is that it?" Dean had asked.

Harry had replied directly, "Yes, sir. When the game window opens in front of you, all you need to do is request that this dungeon be put on hold. The moment you say that, another window opens, closing the dungeon and keeping it closed until you enter again."

Dean took a deep breath at these words.

"Well... no need to get worked up," he muttered to himself, before adding, "All right, with Raviel’s help, everything will be sorted out. In the meantime, I’d like to see what they’re capable of."

There was no referee, nor was there a crowd to watch this duel. Although one mustn’t forget the servants watching from the castle windows.

Still, one could say that there was nothing here but a vast, empty expanse and two warriors about to test each other for the first time.

Dean had rested his spear loosely on his shoulder. His face bore his usual calm expression. His aim today was not to win.

He wanted to see how Harry fought.

Harry, for his part, had gripped the broadsword-like weapon in his hand tightly; he took a deep breath, trying to suppress his excitement.

Dean noticed this but gave nothing away.

"Relax," he said in a calm voice, continuing without pause, "This is just a duel. It won’t change whether I take you under my command or not. If you’re a poor fighter, you can always improve," he added.

Harry nodded in reply.

"Understood."

Dean lowered his spear in front of him.

"If you’re ready, we can begin."

No further words were spoken.

Harry was the first to take a step.

But he didn’t run. He was cautious.

As he approached slowly, he kept his eyes fixed on Dean’s shoulders and feet. He knew that, given the length of the spear in his hand, a direct attack would be a mistake.

Dean, meanwhile, hardly moved from his spot.

He was carefully studying Harry’s gait, his breathing, and the way he gripped his weapon.

"His footing is steady... Carrying the weapon has become second nature. So he’s been using the same weapon for years. Though I know he’s been playing the game since the GAMMA version, so that’s to be expected," Dean thought.

Once the distance had closed considerably, Harry suddenly lunged forward.

The broadsword traced a wide arc from right to left.

"CLANG!"

With a single movement, Dean raised his spear to parry the attack.

He neither counter-attacked nor retreated.

He simply felt the impact. It was a rather powerful strike.

Harry immediately launched his second attack, this time striking downwards.

Dean took a step to the side, causing the sword to miss.

He then made a light probing strike with the butt of his spear towards Harry’s shoulder. Harry stepped back and dodged the blow.

A brief gleam flashed in Dean’s eyes.

"His reflexes aren’t half bad."

The pair created some distance between them again, and this time Harry waited. He wanted Dean to make the first move. For some reason, he’d thought that would make everything easier.

He was wrong.

Dean finally lunged forward.

The tip of the spear shot towards Harry’s chest like a bolt of lightning.

Harry raised his weapon in a cross-guard.

"KLANG!"

As the metallic clang echoed, Dean instantly withdrew his spear.

There was no follow-up.

Harry realised this was deliberate.

Dean was pushing him to his limits, but not crushing him.

This thought eased some of the tension within him. After all, this was a duel. It wouldn’t make much sense for Dean to go and try to kill him.

Perhaps that was why Harry took a deep breath and attacked again straight away.

This time, his movements were more fluid.

The broadsword swung in rapid succession, each strike flowing seamlessly into the next.

Dean parried every blow by rotating his spear, sometimes changing direction with movements of just a few centimetres.

With every clash, Harry became a little more focused.

He’d realised that Dean wasn’t making a single unnecessary movement.

It was as if every step he took had a purpose.

Harry didn’t know that Dean was overwhelming him using the techniques he’d learnt from Percival just half an hour earlier that very day.

Harry suddenly changed direction.

Pretending to make a horizontal attack, he lowered his weapon at the last moment.

Dean spotted the slash heading towards his knees just in time and swung his spear downwards.

"CLANG!"

For the first time, one of his eyebrows raised slightly.

"NICE!" Dean shouted.

Seeing this, Harry took heart.

He began to apply pressure in rapid succession.

Right, left, up and diagonally.

With every attack, he forced Dean to move a little further.

Dean took a few steps back. Harry thought this was his chance. Throwing all his weight behind it, he lunged forward with a powerful attack.

Just then, Dean turned sideways. As the broadsword sliced through the air, the spear’s shaft brushed lightly against Harry’s wrist.

Harry didn’t drop his weapon; instead, he twisted his wrist and swung the broadsword again.

This time, Dean was genuinely taken aback.

He’d recovered faster than he’d expected.

Their weapons clashed relentlessly for several seconds.

"CLANG!"

"KLANG!"

"TING!"

As clouds of dust rose beneath their feet, neither could gain the upper hand, nor did either show any weakness.

Harry’s breathing was beginning to grow laboured.

Dean, however, remained calm. Yet his eyes were no longer merely observing; they were assessing.

Harry wasn’t panicking under pressure. He was in full control of his weapon, and his balance was solid.

But when he focused on the attack, he neglected his surroundings. Dean waited for him to realise this.

Just as Harry lunged forward with all his might once more, Dean spun his spear, deflecting the broadsword to the side.

Then, applying a slight thrust with his shoulder, he threw Harry off balance.

A momentary opening appeared.

The tip of the spear came to rest a few centimetres from Harry’s throat.

Silence fell.

Harry took deep breaths, never taking his eyes off the tip of the spear.

A few seconds later, Dean withdrew his weapon.

"I saw."

Harry furrowed his brow.

"Saw what, Sir?"

Dean slung his spear over his shoulder.

"How you fight."

There was a brief silence.

"Your fundamentals are sound. You’ve been using your weapon for years. You don’t lose control under pressure, and you know how to capitalise when your opponent leaves an opening."

Harry listened in silence.

Harry bowed his head.

"I see. Thank you for these kind words."

Dean smiled slightly.

"It was our first clash. You did better than I expected."

The tension in Harry’s shoulders finally eased.

Those words were far more valuable than victory.

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