Reincarnated With The Degenerate System-Chapter 243: Trickster Part 2

BOOOM!

We separated, both of us blown backward by the force of our own attack.

I tumbled through the air, as I fought to stabilize myself before hitting the ground.

When I finally landed, my boots carved deep trenches through what was left of the summit, stone melting beneath my feet from the residual energy still pouring off my body.

Across from me, he landed in a crouch, weapon planted firmly in the ground.

Cracks spread outward from where he touched down.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then he stood slowly, straightening to his full height.

"Now that is more like it." His grin was wider now. Genuine excitement burning in those golden eyes.

He spun his staff once. "But you’re still holding back a lot."

My breathing was heavy but controlled. "I can say the same to you."

swoosh!

He vanished again.

Faster than before. So much faster that even with my enhanced perception I barely tracked the movement before he was already on me, staff swinging in a horizontal arc aimed directly to my head.

I ducked under it, shadows wrapping around my legs as I launched myself backward and upward simultaneously.

Darkness erupted from my weapon as I counter attack.

He twisted, caught my spear with his own weapon mid-strike, and redirected the momentum to send me spinning off-course.

Before I could recover, he was already following up—three strikes in rapid succession, like a killing machine.

Block. Deflect. Dodge.

We exchanged dozens of blows in the span of seconds.

Then he broke through my guard.

His attack caught me in the ribs—not cleanly, I managed to twist enough to blunt some of the force—but the impact still lifted me off my feet and sent me crashing through a section of remaining stone.

Pain exploded through my side for a split second before I started healing.

Ribs knitting back together, torn muscle regenerating, internal bleeding stopping and reversing as if it had never happened.

His eyes tracked the process with interest.

"Wow. That regeneration ability of yours is really powerful. Reminds me of when I fought a god who could regenerate too."

"So how did you kill him?" I asked, raising and pointing my spear.

His grin widened. "I just hit him a lot of times until nothing remained."

Simple. Brutal. Effective.

"It’s hard for me to believe that, seeing as you haven’t even forced me to get serious."

My words hit a nerve, and he started chuckling lightly. "Careful not to die too soon."

In an instant, he vanished from in front of me and reappeared behind my back. His staff sliced through the air, aimed at the base of my skull.

Before his strike could land, I was already behind him, thrusting my weapon forward.

Shadow and dragon energy spiraled along the tip as it cut through the air toward his exposed back.

My attack passed through him.

No resistance. No impact. Just clean passage through what should have been flesh and bone but wasn’t.

Then, his body turned to mist.

By the time I realized what happened, he was already reforming several meters away, standing casually with his staff resting on his shoulder like nothing had occurred.

He began laughing. "You have so many surprises in you that I’m getting embarrassed calling myself a trickster,"

I straightened, keeping my weapon ready. "Says the one who just turned into mist."

"Part of my transformation abilities," he shrugged.

"You’re not the only one who can transform." Slowly, I steadied my breath. My whole body darkened as a new armor formed around me, reminiscent of his—but with a deeper shade and a more menacing aura.

"Nice," he said, still grinning. "Most people who copy my style at least have the decency to look embarrassed about it."

"I’m not copying your style." I rolled my neck, feeling the dark armor settle against my skin like a second skeleton "I’m the better upgrade."

His eyes gleamed dangerously.

We collided again, the force of our impact tearing through the air .Rocks exploded outward, splintered into dust before they even had time to fall. The ground beneath us vanished, pulverized into nothingness.

We spun apart, but there was no pause this time. Our attacks met instantly, weapon and feet moving in a blur.

It was only a matter of time before one of us pushed too far—but neither of us planned to give an inch.

Finally, I decided it was time to escalate. Magic surged along my spear, black fire spiraling up the shaft as I lunged. Each movement left streaks of flame burning through the air.

He met the attack easily. At the moment of contact, I shifted the element—fire vanished, replaced by water. The sudden drop in temperature created steam that exploded between us, cloaking my next move.

Using the cover, I teleported to his side, striking again. He spun his staff just in time, deflecting the blow—but I wasn’t done. Lightning surged along my spear, arcing toward him with blinding speed.

He leaped back, golden light flaring as the electricity dissipated harmlessly.

"Creative," he said, landing several meters away, staff resting lightly in his hands. "Most fighters stick to one element they know."

"Most fighters aren’t me," I snapped back.

Earth surged beneath him, stone spikes erupting toward the summit. He vaulted over them with a graceful flip, landing with his staff aimed squarely at my head.

Wind magic answered, a razor-thin blade of compressed air slicing upward.

The clash scattered air and debris in every direction, leaving a brief opening. I seized it, switching to ice. Moisture in the air crystallized instantly, launching dozens of jagged shards from every angle.

Golden light erupted around him, a protective sphere that shattered the ice mid-flight. Shards fell harmlessly, glittering in the fractured sunlight.

Without a pause, he transformed—dozens of clones erupting around him. These weren’t like Alexa’s mirrors; each one was real, each capable of landing a lethal strike.

If there was any silver lining, their reactions were slower at first. I moved methodically, striking them down one by one. Each dissolved into mist as soon as it fell.

But with every clone I destroyed, the survivors grew sharper, moving with increasing coordination. The more I fought, the more synchronized their attacks became, forcing me to adapt faster than ever.

Then, as if mocking me, he summoned a gourd and ten of his cones, spewed a torrent of fire.

This wasn’t ordinary flame—it burned so fiercely that my Aegis Armor activated automatically, flaring up three times in rapid succession to shield me.

Not wanting to be outdone, I slammed the back of my spear into the ground, activating a magic circle I had prepared in advance with wind magic.

Rocks glowed bright orange as magma erupted upward, incinerating every clone and reshaping the battlefield in an instant.

That should slow him down.

When the magma settled, he was gone. No presence. No sound.

The light above dimmed. A shadow swallowed the summit.

I looked up.

A massive staff, the size of a building, descended from the sky. Flames erupted along its length from the friction, turning the air into a burning storm.

"You’ve got to be kidding me." A bitter laugh escaped my mouth. For a second, giving up felt easier.

Then a thought struck.

If that thing crushed the whole peak, my team below would be wiped out.

There was no other choice.

I activated my dragon bloodline. Wings tore out from my back. Black and gold scales spread across my body, locking into place. Power roared through my veins.

"Dragon Moonlight Strike! Destroyer!"

I shot upward, the ground beneath me shattering from the force of my launch. My spear gathered everything—shadow, dragon energy, magic, Qi —and I drove it straight into the falling staff.

BOOOOM!

It felt like crashing into a mountain. The impact forced me downward, bones straining, wings trembling under the pressure.

But I didn’t retreat.

I pushed harder.

Cracks spread along the massive staff.

With a roar, I forced every last ounce of strength into my spear and drove upward.

The cracks spread further along the massive staff—but so did they along me.

Something ignited deep in my chest.

Not pain. Not exactly.

More like a wildfire that had been smoldering for years suddenly finding oxygen.

My vision went gold. Then black. Then gold again.

Crack.

A fracture split across my left forearm, visible even through the scales. Not from his attack. From my own power tearing through me faster than my body could handle.

Crack. Crack.

Two more along my collarbone. My neck. The scales that were supposed to protect me were splintering under the pressure building from within, as if my own bones were rejecting the sheer volume of energy I was forcing through them.

It hurt.

For the first time in this entire fight, it genuinely, deeply hurt—not the clean pain of a broken rib that healed in seconds, but something foundational. Like the framework of my existence was being tested against a load it wasn’t built to bear.

My regeneration fought back desperately, sealing cracks as fast as they formed—but new ones were already splitting open ahead of it, a losing race against my own rampaging bloodline.

The dragon energy didn’t care about my limits.

I gave it what it wanted.

Every limit I had maintained, every careful boundary I’d drawn around the deepest reserves of my power, I let them go.

All of it, flooding upward through my spear in a single point.

"ARGGGGG" My roar wasn’t a sound anymore. It was a force.

The massive staff shuddered.

And then—

crack!