Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 549: Scene

Scene

Martial arts were said to exist for the sake of saving others. At least, that was what I was told growing up in the Fireheart Clan.

From childhood, they taught us that our strength was meant to protect the people of Emberhold City—that martial arts were a gift of duty, not destruction.

But that naïve phrase never once sat right with me.

Even as I grew older, even as my teachers spoke of honor and virtue, I never believed it.

To me, martial arts were forged for one purpose alone—to kill.

To rip apart your enemy. To shatter what stands before you into dust and silence. Whether it’s used for good or evil depends entirely on the one holding the blade.

And I’ve lived long enough to see that truth for what it really is. I’ve felt it. The raw, terrifying nature of combat—the primal purpose behind every stance, every strike, every breath.

I’ve seen too much of it. Felt too much of it.

And honestly... I never wanted to experience it again.

But that bastard—Ben Fireheart—was staring at me with a smug face, like he thought I’d already run out of Mana.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

The heat didn’t vanish; I simply drew it inward. Pulled every flicker of flame into my core.

When Mana is absorbed into the body by force, it tempers the flesh, fortifies the spirit, and pushes one’s strength beyond normal limits. It’s a technique possible only for those who’ve reached the Fifth Realm of Flame Arts.

Of course, that didn’t mean I suddenly surpassed Ben in strength. It just meant I understood Mana better than he ever could.

This generation of martial artists was obsessed with slaying demons, purging evil. But that focus made them weaker when it came to fighting people. They’d forgotten the art of battle between humans—the flow, the adaptability, the cunning.

That’s why I could stand toe to toe with fighters like Ben or Mio Fireheart without flinching.

Still, the technique burned like hell. I could feel my insides twist and churn as if my organs were melting. But I didn’t let it show.

’...This technique’s rough for someone who’s only reached the Second Realm.’

Steam hissed from my lips with every exhale. It wasn’t the cold—it was the heat caged inside me, trying to break free.

Seven minutes. That was my limit. Any longer, and I’d start tearing myself apart from the inside.

’That should be enough.’

Across the field, Ben was staggering, his breath uneven, his stance sloppy. The blow from earlier had rattled his focus completely.

"Get up while I’m giving you the chance," I said coldly. "Don’t give me bullshit like ’It was a sucker punch’ after the duel’s over."

He forced himself to his feet, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Even through the pain, he lifted his sword again, Mana flaring weakly around him.

"I... apologize for underestimating you, Young Master," he managed between ragged breaths. "I let my guard down."

"I don’t need your excuses," I replied flatly. "Should I attack again?"

"...This time, I’ll attack."

"Go ahead."

Ben wiped the blood off his lips and steadied himself. His eyes sharpened as he shifted into his stance—the stance of the Sword Draw Art, a style from the Inferno Sword tradition. Every movement had to be perfect—one fluid, flawless draw.

He drew his blade.

Whoosh! Heat burst outward, rippling through the air like molten breath.

I kept my gaze fixed on his sword, reading the faint tremors in the flame. Then I moved—just a slight shift of my torso. His attack sliced through nothing but air.

The faint pulse of Mana told me what was coming next. The real strike.

Ben spun mid-step, half a turn, gathering momentum as he infused his sword with even more of his Mana. The crimson glow intensified, and his speed spiked.

’He’s got good fundamentals,’ I thought. His form was clean—textbook perfect. Years of drilling had carved that technique into him. But that perfection was his weakness.

Movements that must be flawless... crumble the moment they’re disrupted.

Without hesitation, I lunged straight at him.

His eyes widened. He hadn’t expected me to charge in head-on.

He didn’t stop his swing—it came down toward my head like a flash of burning steel.

And that was exactly what I wanted.

At the last second, I unleashed everything.

Boom!

The stored heat burst out from me in a blinding wave. The air screamed, the ground cracked, and the training yard was swallowed by flame.

It would only last a moment—but that was enough.

There was no way Ben could have come out of that unscathed at such close range. The heat singed everything in its path, warping even the air.

He blinked, his focus shattered for that one heartbeat.

And that was all I needed.

My fist, wreathed in blazing Mana, drove into his gut.

Thud!

"Cughh—Gugh—!"

This time, I didn’t hold back. Even with his defensive Mana braced, my strike drove deep into his abdomen.

He collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach, vomiting blood and bile onto the scorched dirt.

"Cough... Cough... Blegh..."

I looked down at him, my pulse still burning in my ears.

Do you know what pisses me off the most?

I wanted to kill him.

That thought had been sitting in my head from the moment this duel began.

I knew I shouldn’t. I knew better. But the urge—it clawed at me. The fury was like a living thing, gnawing at my restraint.

Fixing my temper? My "toxic personality"? Yeah, right. That kind of flaw doesn’t just vanish because you decide to be a better person.

And this bastard had been testing that limit over and over again.

"Whatever you say to me... however you act toward me... even if you desire to take the Lord’s seat for yourself—I don’t care about any of that."

Ben’s trembling eyes lifted to mine, fear crawling into his expression.

"But you reached out your filthy hands toward something you should’ve never even looked at. That’s what fucking pissed me off."

He’d tried to take what was mine to protect—what he had no right to touch.