The Poet's System
Chapter 82: Asaemon and Daylan 2

Chapter 82: Asaemon and Daylan 2

"Having such an intense fight after all that torture is taking a toll on him," Asaemon told Blind as he carried Daylan into his room.

He rested for a few hours and woke up sometime in the afternoon. Daylan’s head throbbed with pain as he massaged it before getting out of bed.

Whenever an ability was used, it drew strength from the soul, and when the soul became exhausted, so did the body.

However, Daylan was tired of the blackouts. He wasn’t going to sit around and wait until he was finally ready to fight—no enemy would wait for that, just like his mother didn’t.

Without wasting a moment, he made his way to the living room—and there he was: Asaemon.

"There are still four hours left on the clock. Let’s get this done, kid."

He gestured at him. Asaemon shrugged and joined him.

Daylan liked the feeling of being in close combat with Asaemon. He believed that if he had any chance of defeating him, it would be through Spiral Edge.

The moment the duel began, he would dash forward, and just as he was about to get within reach—often on random attempts—he’d teleport to a different spot, completely avoiding the tentacles.

Then, he’d engage Asaemon in hand-to-hand combat, still teleporting unpredictably. But even so, he always became vulnerable whenever that sinking sensation washed over him. And with that, Asaemon defeated him easily.

Despite his loss, Daylan remained determined. The pain his weakness might cause others was something he couldn’t bear—and for that, there would be no rest until he became strong.

He continued relying solely on the teleportation strategy for over a week—and lost every time. Asaemon wasn’t even trying anymore. Over the course of that week, he managed to track Daylan’s movements and predict where he might teleport next.

It was the first day of the week, Sunday, and as part of the vital five, Blind was obliged to pray to all three gods. "He will know if I don’t," he always said—but when asked who, he remained silent.

Asaemon joined him as well, always following his master’s lead.

Waiting on Asaemon, Daylan paced back and forth in the training room. He still didn’t know exactly what Asaemon’s abilities were, which made it hard to form a proper strategy against him.

However, Daylan believed today would be different. He had been trying to create weapons beyond blades—more complicated ones—which took a toll on him at first, forcing him to stick to one strategy all week.

But now, he could conjure hand grenades and revolvers; although, he could only create one per day, and the revolver was much harder to summon.

His plan was simple: get rid of the octopus and win.

As he paced the room, Asaemon joined him.

Without wasting a second, they began the duel. Daylan focused on making his movements as unpredictable as possible, but Asaemon was always one step ahead. It was as if the entire room was his territory.

But the moment he teleported, the octopus was already there—clearly, Asaemon had multiple or clones of them.

After nearly an hour of fighting, Daylan still hadn’t closed the distance. He stood apart from Asaemon, gripping his dagger tightly, his breath shallow and eyes darting around.

That’s when he got an idea. He readied his dagger and hurled it directly at Asaemon—but before it could reach him, Asaemon kicked it away.

He smirked, conjured a hand grenade, made it slightly sticky, and hurled it straight at Asaemon. The moment it was blocked, it stuck—and then exploded.

Daylan didn’t wait for a second—he teleported before Asaemon, summoning his dagger as he moved in.

He delivered strike after strike, but Asaemon blocked them all. For the first time, Asaemon looked angry—the usual smirk wiped from his face. Daylan paid it no mind.

Daylan’s strikes grew more powerful and faster with each attempt, willing to push even further just to win.

But Asaemon blocked them all, meeting Daylan’s blows with his hands before they even landed, preventing any chance of an attack with the dagger.

Daylan didn’t fail to use his legs, cunning flexibility, and quick reflexes—but Asaemon was always one step ahead. Every feint, every maneuver, Asaemon blocked without letting a single strike through.

Before Daylan knew it, a tentacle wrapped around his neck and slammed him to the ground once again.

In that instant, Asaemon’s eyes stopped glowing and he outstretched his arms. "I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m feeling well. Can we continue tomorrow?"

Daylan’s expression darkened as he shifted slightly on the floor. "Sure... but will you be okay?"

Asaemon gave a firm nod, a warm smile crossing his face, then walked out of the room.

Daylan continued to lie on the floor with his head facing the ceiling.

"And I really thought I could end it all today," He smirked.

He failed, but he wasn’t going to give up. He had one more trick up his sleeve—his revolver—and if he used it right, he could end this and finally move on to the second phase of his training.

"I might use everything I’ve got—darkness, strength, whatever. This has gone on for far too long," he muttered to himself, rising to his feet.

He began working out, focusing mostly on sharpening his reflexes and flexibility. This continued throughout the day, as Asaemon never returned for their duel. He wasn’t seen at all for the rest of the day.

However, the next day, right after his morning meditation, Asaemon joined him for their duel. He looked calm as usual and showed no signs of illness. Daylan liked the energy—it meant he had to call him for their duel every day.

"I have to make up for the time we missed yesterday."

Daylan smirked. "Sure," he said, then began jogging on his toes, loosening up his muscles.

Neither of them had eaten breakfast, so Daylan hoped to finish things quickly—before his stomach started to rumble.

He summoned his dagger and activated Dark Spiral. Instantly, Asaemon’s eyes began to glow. Daylan dashed forward, hurled his dagger, and teleported behind him.

Before the dagger could be blocked, he summoned it back—but before he could strike, Asaemon turned, faster than Daylan had ever seen, and delivered a light push to his chest, sending him crashing into the ground.

Daylan gritted his teeth and dashed forward again. This time, he teleported midair, forcing Asaemon to look up—then instantly teleported back to the ground.

He swept Asaemon’s leg with a kick, sending him crashing down. But before he could land another strike, he was slammed into the ground once more.

He rose to his feet, eyes narrowing. In an instant, he teleported into the air toward the lantern and shattered it, plunging the room into darkness.

Before Asaemon could summon his ocean simulation and flood the room with blue, Daylan had already melted into the darkness.

He was everywhere at once—but the sensation of drowning didn’t favor him.

Gasping for air, he unintentionally gave away his location. He froze behind Asaemon, motionless.

Then, the sensation worsened. It felt like he was at the deepest part of the ocean—his body grew cold, and all he could think about was air.

However, Asaemon stopped immediately—and in that split second, the next thing he felt was a strike slamming into his gut.

He was slammed into the ground—and the moment he hit, Daylan was already there, delivering another strike that sent him crashing down again.

Not once did Daylan pause—it was strike after strike, each one more powerful than the last. Yet, aside from Asaemon crashing into the ground, there was no sign that the blows had any real impact.

But that didn’t bother Daylan. With time, Asaemon would have no choice but to accept defeat. He kept striking—relentlessly, endlessly—until Asaemon stopped reacting altogether.

Daylan didn’t let up. He kept going, blow after blow, but Asaemon simply stood there, taking the hits as if they came from a child.

Still, Daylan wasn’t fazed. He kept striking—until, just before his next attack, he noticed Asaemon staring directly into his eyes, those glowing eyes piercing through the dark.

Daylan hesitated and tried to back away—but it was too late.

A single punch slammed into his gut.

He was sent sliding backward on his feet. The blow was devastating. The impact shook the building, and the walls of the training room began to crack and crumble.

At first, it seemed like that was all—but then the pain hit. Even with Dark Spiral activated, he could feel every shattered rib. Blood filled his mouth as he coughed violently, confusion washing over him.

But he wasn’t going down that easily. He still wanted to finish the fight—no matter what. Gritting his teeth, he conjured his revolver and fired all eight bullets straight at Asaemon.

None of the bullets touched him, but blood began to trickle onto the floor. Daylan’s eyes widened in shock as Asaemon screamed out in pain. Without warning, Asaemon transformed into Spirit—that was the last thing Daylan saw.

Time stopped in motion as the world itself ceased to rotate, shrouded in a deep blue—like being submerged in the heart of the ocean. Yet, the only one who could move was Spirit.

His eyes and circle tattoos glowed brighter than ever, his horns curled more sharply as he advanced toward Daylan’s frozen body, dragging a sword with a white hilt. The blade seemed to be made of water, flowing endlessly like a stream.

L

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