Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God-Chapter 17: Fight me to the death, you coward

Sylvaris's golden eyes gleamed with pride, his smug smile practically carved into his face. He was pleased with himself, and why wouldn't he be? Seventeen years of training hadn't been wasted. If he had turned out to be some good-for-nothing fool before awakening his memories, he might have just ended his own life out of sheer embarrassment. In his mind, this man standing before him was already a dead man walking.

"So... am I supposed to stand here all day, or are you coming at me yourself?" Sylvaris taunted, his voice laced with boredom. He paused for a moment, suddenly realizing how suggestive that had sounded. Shit... that sounded kinda gay... He quickly shook the thought off. Whatever... these idiots wouldn't get my old-world jokes anyway...

"Brat, you've got some talent, I'll give you that," the thug sneered, his voice shaking just enough to betray his nerves. Despite the beads of sweat rolling down his face, he forced a crooked grin, clinging to bravado like it was his lifeline. "But if you think you've already won... heh." He chuckled dryly. "I'll have you know, I'm the tenth-ranked A-rank adventurer. I am—"

A sudden beam of light tore through the air, slicing across his left cheek. Blood sprayed in a thin arc, and his hand shot to his face as he stumbled back in shock. His breath hitched as the sharp sting bloomed into burning pain, and for a brief moment, all he could think about was how close that attack had come to taking his head clean off.

The most terrifying part? He hadn't even seen Sylvaris move. No warning, no chant, no flicker of light — just instant pain and a glimpse of death flashing before his eyes.

His bravado crumbled, leaving only wide-eyed fear behind.

"Next time I won't miss."

The thug leader watched in disbelief as the young man lazily dug a finger into his ear, his bloodied sword resting casually on his shoulder. That relaxed stance — as if Sylvaris had all the time in the world — terrified him more than the blade itself.

Forget the money... I'd rather keep my life!

Without a second thought, the man yanked his horse's reins, spinning the beast around in a desperate attempt to flee. His cry of panic rang out, breaking the silence of the blood-soaked battlefield.

"Do I not exist here?" Sylvaris muttered, rolling his eyes in annoyance. His blade shifted slightly, now aimed directly at the horse's legs.

"Slash..." His voice was cold and indifferent, void of emotion.

To him, it didn't matter whether the animal was innocent or not. The beast's master had tried to kill him, and in Sylvaris's eyes, that made the horse just as involved. Perhaps to some, his actions would seem cruel, but to Sylvaris, this was simply how the world worked. The strong crushed the weak, and mercy was a luxury reserved for fools.

A wide arc of white light streaked through the air, slicing through the horse's legs with terrifying precision. The beast collapsed instantly, crashing to the dirt with a pained whinny as the thug leader was flung forward. He hit the ground face-first, his teeth scraping against gravel as his body skidded painfully across the dirt. Dust clung to his bloodied face, and his mouth filled with grit and the bitter taste of iron.

It hurt like hell, but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting away. Yet when his blurred vision cleared and he saw Sylvaris's cold, golden eyes glaring down at him — and that same sword now stabbed through his horse's skull — he knew there was no escape.

I'm done... The grim thought settled like a weight in his chest. His body slumped in defeat, and his fingers slowly uncurled from his empty scabbard.

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Maybe this is for the best... He closed his eyes, welcoming the inevitable. Life in this world had been nothing but hell anyway. His dying mother, his endless struggles, the hunger that gnawed at him each night... Maybe this was his chance to rest. Maybe death was his only escape.

Sylvaris noticed the broken look in the man's eyes and felt a rush of irritation.

"Tch..." He scoffed, his boot kicking the man's fallen sword, sending it tumbling through the dirt before landing at his feet.

"Fight me to the death, you coward," Sylvaris spat. "What kind of man just kneels and waits to die?"

His voice roared through the air, snapping the man out of his daze. Gorath's tired eyes shifted to the blade on the ground, and then slowly lifted to meet Sylvaris's gaze. The boy's face twisted in frustration, like a predator annoyed that its prey refused to run.

So he wants me to man up... Gorath thought grimly. He's no hero... A real hero would have just killed me by now. This brat... hahaha... he's fucking crazy.

A crooked smile stretched across Gorath's face.

Sylvaris returned the grin with one of his own, his golden eyes shining with savage excitement.

"Gorath," Sylvaris said, calling the man's name with an almost friendly tone. "I'll build you a nice grave after your death, so stand up and fight me. Or will you sit there all day like a chicken waiting for someone to twist your neck?"

Those words struck a nerve. Gorath clenched his teeth, grabbed his fallen sword, and pushed himself to his feet. His muscles screamed in pain, but he ignored it. His stance was shaky, but he forced himself into position.

"You want to know who ordered your assassination?" Gorath grunted, his lips curling into a crooked smile. "I'll tell you before I send you to the underworld..."

He laughed in a harsh, bitter sound, one that masked his own resignation. He knew this was his last stand.

"Nah..." Sylvaris answered lazily, his blade flashing as he stepped in close. His sword moved at an awkward angle, twisting through a gap in Gorath's stance. The man barely registered the strike before pain flared in his thigh.

The blade tore deep into the flesh, leaving a gaping wound that oozed crimson. Gorath staggered back, gritting his teeth as his leg buckled beneath him.

"That's not a very honorable way to fight," Gorath grunted, glaring up at Sylvaris with a mix of pain and frustration.

Sylvaris rolled his eyes.

"In a real fight, there's no such thing as honor," he muttered. "Learn that in your next life."