The Snake God with SSS Rank Evolution System

Chapter 369: First Blood

The Elder stepped back, his staff striking the stone floor once. The runes carved into the arena’s perimeter flared to life, pulsing with a deep, amber light. The air around Adam and Drizt grew heavy, thick with the weight of suppressed mana.Adam’s internal voice was cool, weighing the situation with practiced ease.

’So the runes are working. I can feel it—my mana is locked away. Even my regeneration feels slower. This is... actually impressive.’

Drizt’s voice cut through the haze of Adam’s observation, sharp and laced with arrogance.

"What’s wrong? Is this your first time having your power suppressed? Scared without your flames and claws?"

Adam’s gaze drifted back to Drizt, his expression calm, almost amused.

"Hard to be afraid of something so fascinating. Your people’s rune work is remarkable. I’ve never felt anything quite like it."

Drizt’s eyes narrowed. He took a step forward, adjusting his stance, his dagger held low and ready.

"Fascinating? You should be. Because you’re about to learn that without your power, you’re just another man with too much confidence and not enough skill."

Adam tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"We’ll see."

Drizt lunged.

His form blurred—fast, precise, his dagger tracing a silver arc aimed at Adam’s ribs. Adam’s body moved before his mind could catch up, his feet carrying him sideways in a fluid, practiced motion. The blade passed inches from his skin, close enough to ruffle the fabric of his trousers.

Drizt didn’t pause. He flowed into the next attack, his dagger reversing direction in a seamless arc, aimed at Adam’s throat. Adam ducked, the blade passing over his head, and used the momentum to roll backward, coming up in a low crouch.

Drizt’s voice rang out, sharp and challenging, as he pressed forward.

"Not bad! But that was just a warm-up!"

Adam’s internal voice was thoughtful, almost admiring.

’He’s fast. And his footwork is excellent. I can see why Azrynn’s people respect him.’

Drizt lunged again, his dagger tracing a series of rapid, precise strikes. Adam weaved between them, his movements fluid, with an almost casual ease. Each dodge was just barely enough—a fraction of an inch, a hair’s breadth of space. He could have ended the fight already. The difference in their physical capabilities was substantial. But Adam was curious. He wanted to see what the Dark Elf was capable of.

Drizt’s movements grew sharper, more aggressive. His dagger flickered in the torchlight, each strike carrying more force, more speed. Adam continued to dodge, his feet light on the packed earth, his body twisting with fluid grace.

Drizt’s voice came out sharp, laced with frustration.

"Stop dodging! Fight me properly! Or are you too afraid to face me head-on?!"

Adam’s lips curved into a faint, almost amused smile.

"I’m not afraid. I’m just... curious."

Drizt’s eyes blazed. "Curious about what?!"

Adam’s smile widened, just slightly. "Curious about how far you’ll go before you realize you can’t win."

Drizt’s eyes blazed, his grip tightening on the dagger. His voice rose, sharp with frustration. "You’re underestimating me! I’ve given up so much to reach this point! I won’t let you humiliate me in front of her!"

Drizt lunged again, his dagger slicing through the air with practiced precision. But this time, Adam met the strike head-on.

CLANG!

The clash of metal echoed through the arena, sharp and clear, cutting through the roar of the crowd. The villagers surged to their feet, their cheers rising as the two blades locked together.

Drizt’s eyes widened. His arm trembled under the force of Adam’s counter.

’Damn it! Why can’t I land a single hit?! My technique should be superior! I’ve trained my whole life for this—he’s just a brute with no skills!’

Adam saw the flicker of doubt in Drizt’s eyes—the moment of hesitation, the crack in his confidence. He didn’t waste it.

Adam pushed forward, driving his dagger against Drizt’s, the force of his strength sending the Dark Elf stumbling back. His feet scraped against the packed earth, leaving shallow furrows as he fought to keep his balance.

Adam pressed the advantage. His dagger swept toward Drizt’s shoulder. Drizt twisted, barely deflecting the strike, but the impact jarred his arm. Another blow, faster, aimed at his ribs—Drizt parried, but his feet slid back, struggling to hold his ground. His arms were shaking. His breath was ragged, pulled from his lungs in short, desperate gasps.

Drizt’s voice came out low, strained with disbelief.

"What... is this strength?! How can a man have this much power without mana?!"

Adam’s smile was thin, calm, utterly unbothered. "It’s not about strength. It’s about knowing when to strike."

Drizt’s eyes blazed. His grip on the dagger tightened, and he surged forward again.

Adam met him head-on. Their blades clashed again, the sound ringing through the arena. Adam twisted, his dagger sliding along Drizt’s, redirecting the force, and drove his shoulder into Drizt’s chest.

The impact sent Drizt stumbling back, his boots scraping against the packed earth. He caught himself, gasping, his dagger still raised, but his arms were trembling.

Adam straightened, his expression calm, his breathing steady.

"You’re fast. You’re skilled. But you’re too rigid. You’re fighting like you’ve rehearsed this moment a thousand times—and you’re not prepared for what happens when reality doesn’t follow your script."

Drizt’s eyes blazed, his voice raw with wounded pride. "You think you’re better than me?! I’ve known her my whole life—I should be the one standing by her side!"

Adam’s voice was gentle, almost pitying. "You’re skilled. But skill without experience is just a recipe for overconfidence. You’ve trained your whole life to fight shadows. I’ve bled in the dark long enough to see the real thing."

Drizt didn’t listen. He surged forward again, his dagger flickering in the torchlight, faster and more aggressive than before. His strikes came in rapid succession, each one aimed at a vital point, each one carrying the weight of his frustration and desperation.

Adam’s gaze narrowed, reading Drizt’s movements with quiet precision.

’His technique is excellent—I can see the years of training in every movement. But he’s too emotional. He’s letting his anger guide his blade instead of his mind. If he could just calm down, he might actually be a threat.’

Adam’s body moved with fluid precision, weaving between Drizt’s strikes. His dagger met Drizt’s in a sharp, ringing clash, and he used the momentum to slide his blade along Drizt’s, redirecting the force and throwing the Dark Elf off balance.

Drizt stumbled, his feet sliding as he fought to stay upright.

Adam saw his opening. He didn’t hesitate. His dagger swept forward, tracing a clean, shallow arc across Drizt’s forearm.

A thin line of crimson welled up along the cut—dark and vivid against the dark skin. Drizt hissed, pulling back, but the damage was done.

The white blade of Adam’s dagger began to change. The blood soaked into the metal, spreading across its surface like ink bleeding through cloth. A faint, crimson glow pulsed along the edge as the dagger drank the offering.

The crowd’s roar swelled, louder than before, a wave of sound that seemed to shake the very stones of the arena.

Drizt’s eyes widened as he stared at the blood on his arm, then at Adam’s dagger, now marked with the first traces of red.

"He drew blood...!" someone in the crowd shouted.

"He’s already losing!"

"Fight back, Drizt! Don’t let him get ahead!"

The shouts blurred together—urging, taunting, desperate. Drizt’s jaw tightened, and his grip on his dagger shifted, his knuckles white against the hilt.

Adam’s voice was calm, measured. "It’s not over yet. But it will be if you keep fighting like this."