SSS Awakening: All My Clones Have Divine Bloodlines!

Unlike Lirien, who was equal parts stunned and unsettled by what she was seeing, Evan had already assessed the creature’s strength and reacted accordingly without giving it much thought.

But as he did, he got a close look at the creature, and it immediately caught him off guard.

’This guy... why does he look exactly like that bastard?’ he wondered.

At first he thought it might just be a coincidence, that maybe he’d seen wrong. But then he noticed Lirien’s reaction, and it didn’t take him long to reach a conclusion.

She was a student from the academy, and from what he’d learned, others from there had ended up here too. Percival had been in the same year. So how likely was it that he’d ended up here as well?

"Fate really does have a twisted sense of humor," he said, recalling Seraphine’s words from earlier.

A faint, sadistic smile spread across his face, one that made Seraphine raise an eyebrow in surprise. It was the first time she’d ever seen him make an expression like that.

"Seems like you know him. An old acquaintance?" she asked, watching the figure now deformed beyond any recognition.

"Something like that," Evan murmured, walking forward toward Percival, who was still recovering from the attack.

Evan had sworn, back in the past, that he’d make every single person who’d wronged him pay eventually. And among the names on that list, Percival sat at the very top.

It had started when Evan was little, barely older than 4. Mockery at first, then pranks that went from harmless to vile in no time at all, until eventually it just became habit.

In Percival’s eyes, Evan had become his outlet, the place to dump everything, no matter how big or small. If his day had gone badly, it was Evan’s fault. If it rained, it was Evan’s fault. If the baron’s daughter next door avoided him, that was Evan’s fault too.

It went on like that for more than ten years. No one protected him during that time; anyone who tried quickly learned they couldn’t afford to, and those who didn’t want to just joined in for the fun of staying on Percival’s good side.

Evan endured it in silence. But he remembered every single wrong.

By the time Percival left for the academy and Evan fled Lirath, he’d stopped thinking about him for a while. But he’d promised himself he’d track him down eventually.

Who would’ve thought the guy would show up right in front of him on his own?

Percival’s mind was clouded. Only moments ago, he’d been trapped within the jaws of those creatures. Then he’d sensed his Master’s presence, and now here he was, transformed into something grotesque, facing people who seemed to harbor hostile intentions toward his Master.

What little clarity remained to him kept slipping away, his black eyes beginning to glow a deep, dark violet.

He looked at Evan with a crazed stare, ready to attack.

Seeing him come, Evan didn’t summon either Shadow or Ash. He didn’t need either of them to deal with this, and he certainly didn’t want anyone interfering in this fight.

Because this was a fight he fully intended to enjoy to the very end.

"Well, look at you. You’ve gotten prettier over the past year. Come on, show me how much stronger you’ve become," Evan said, sword already in hand.

From the earlier attack, he’d already gauged that Percival’s strength had reached the peak of B-rank, extraordinary for his age, but Evan knew it wasn’t due to natural talent. It was because of whatever he’d turned into.

Unlike Evan, though, Percival didn’t recognize him, or rather, couldn’t have. His mind was too far gone by now, reduced to a single thought: eliminate the threat in front of him.

Percival roared and slammed both fists into the ground. The earth beneath Evan shot upward instantly, spears of rock bursting up from every direction, trying to impale him from below.

Evan moved with a sharp sideways leap, avoiding them by inches, but he barely had time to find his footing before Percival was already on top of him, a massive fist tearing through the air with enough force to kill an average B-rank in a single punch, or badly wound an early-stage A-rank.

Evan tilted his torso just enough to let the blow pass a hair’s breadth from his face, and in the same motion drove his blade under the creature’s arm, a clean, deep cut, enough to sever a few tendons, but not enough to render the arm useless.

Percival screamed, a sound with barely anything human left in it, the struck arm losing power for an instant.

That was all Evan needed.

He darted sideways, circling around him, and struck again, this time behind the knee, cutting deep into the tendon.

Percival’s leg buckled, throwing him off balance, but before he could fall completely, he slammed his free hand into the ground. A wall of rock shot up from the earth, aimed straight at Evan.

Evan slid to the side, letting the wall shoot past him, and kept advancing as if nothing had happened, emerging on the other side just as Percival, still unsteady on his wounded leg, attempted another desperate lunge.

Evan ducked under the strike, nearly grazing the ground with his back, and as he rose, drove his sword into the creature’s shoulder, all the way to the bone, then twisted it.

Percival collapsed onto one knee, a roar of pure agony tearing out of his deformed throat, black-green blood running down his arm.

"Getting tired already?" Evan asked, his voice flat, almost bored, as he pulled the blade free with a slow motion, as if trying to draw out the pain.

Hm?

At that moment, Evan felt a faint sense of danger and immediately pulled back. The instant he did, dozens of thorns burst out from Percival’s body, the kind that grew along the stems of roses.

They appeared, then vanished just as quickly.

’Seems like he’s still got a trick or two up his sleeve. Not that it changes anything.’

Percival, his mind reduced to nothing but survival instinct and fury, staggered back to his feet and struck the ground again, this time with both hands, the earth around Evan warping, twisting, trying to trap him from below.

Evan leapt backward just in time, the stone tendrils closing on empty air where he’d stood a second before.

Then he was on him again, fast, precise, and drove the blade into his side, just below the ribs, a cut that wouldn’t kill anyone, but one that would make every single breath hurt for the rest of that fight.

"Too weak," Evan said, the blade dripping with that dark blood.

"For something that’s turned itself into some kind of living monster, you’re pretty weak. This won’t do." His voice sounded bored, and something about it seemed to snap a nerve in the creature, which roared and threw itself into yet another attack, one that never landed.

Evan, for his part, didn’t seem the least bit concerned, and after a moment’s thought, said,

"Last time you took me hunting with you, you said something pretty memorable to cheer me on, if I remember right."

"You said you’d shove your sword up my a**."

A strange smile crossed his face.

"So why don’t we try that same method on you?"

While Evan took his time torturing Percival, Lirien, still watching from her perch on the tree branch, didn’t know what expression to make.

If she’d seen someone do this to a stranger, she might have felt pity. After all, taking pleasure in torturing others said something was wrong with a person.

But the victim in question was someone she herself wanted to kill, especially after what he had done to their instructor and, indirectly, almost to her as well.

So at this moment, she couldn’t help but feel a certain satisfaction at the sight before her. She knew it wasn’t normal, but she couldn’t care less. Percival had already been a bastard even before coming here, someone who had made her want to tear him apart, but after arriving in this place, he had reached an entirely new level of hatred in her eyes.

If it weren’t for the fact that she still felt a certain amount of fear toward that stranger, she might have even wanted to join in on the fun.

That said, as much as she enjoyed watching Percival’s misfortune, she couldn’t help but notice something in the way this guy was doing it too.

That smile. It wasn’t sadistic, or at least, not the smile of someone used to this kind of thing.

No.

That was hatred.

A hatred directed entirely at Percival.

And it was a kind of hatred she knew all too well.

How could she not? After all, it was the exact same hatred her dear friend seemed to carry every time she looked at Percival.

She realized that this young man most likely knew Percival, and that he was probably taking revenge for something Percival had done in the past.

This only made her even more curious about him, and she couldn’t help but wonder who exactly this person was.

Someone around her age, yet powerful enough to be considered a B-Rank, possibly even higher.

’Just who the hell was this guy?’

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