MTLNOVEL Chapter 223: Archduke of Smugness
Vyrak's lips curled, but it wasn't fear. No, he was smiling — that smug, perfect-pride smile only someone in the Pride Ring could pull off. The kind of grin that said 'I've never once been told no in my life and if you stabbed me, I'd probably sue you for damaging my aesthetic.'
"Oh, you're cute," Vyrak said, voice dripping with smooth arrogance. "Threatening me in my own district. Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Archduke of Shietness," Lux said flatly.
Vyrak blinked. "That's self-styled. The official title is—"
Lux raised Devorare a fraction, enough that the air hissed between them. "Arch. Duke. Of. Shietness."
Vyrak's nostrils flared. "You've got a mouth on you, Greed-boy. Let's see if it's still working after I've broken every bone in your—"
The last word never landed.
Lux moved.
A step? No. A flicker. A distortion. Teleportation slammed him into Vyrak's space so fast the air rippled between them.
-CLANG!
Steel met an invisible shield. Sparks skittered across a barrier made of folded sigils, the air thick with the scent of hot ozone and crushed flowers — Pride magic, and strong.
Vyrak shoved, the barrier pulsing outward in a wave of blinding white feathers and glyphs, forcing Lux to slide back half a meter.
Lux cocked his head. "So it's true."
"What is?" Vyrak asked, snapping his fingers. A circle of burning sigils flared under him, his shadow stretching unnaturally tall.
"That you're just another overpolished peacock," Lux said.
Vyrak's eyes narrowed. "Careful."
Lux smirked. "Or what? You'll give me a free astrology reading?"
The feathers around Vyrak exploded outward, shifting into jagged bolts of energy that shot toward Lux like divine javelins. Lux twisted between them with Agility, one grazing his pauldron in a hiss of molten metal.
"Nice light show," Lux called, sliding into a low crouch and vanishing in another teleport.
Vyrak spun — but too slow.
Lux was already behind him, blades crossing in a scissor slash aimed for the lower back.
-FLASH!
A blinding glyph erupted between them, burning against Lux's armor. Vyrak's voice dropped, velvet and venom. "You really think you can beat a Lord of Pride in his own ring?"
Lux grinned in the glare. "I came here to ruin your day, my lord."
They clashed again.
Feathers hardened into spears. Lux's Demonic Orbs whirled into existence, fifty tiny black stars bouncing violently off the floor and ricocheting toward Vyrak from every angle.
Vyrak countered with a sweeping glyph barrier that shattered half of them — but the others didn't stop. They bounced, re-angling mid-air like homing debt collectors. One clipped his shoulder, another detonated at his knee with a burst of cursed shrapnel.
"Persistent little bastard!" Vyrak snarled, launching upward in a burst of winged speed. His feathers swirled into a cyclone, dragging Lux upward with him.
Lux just smirked and opened his own wings. "You want aerial? Fine."
The two of them tore into the upper airspace of the vault room — slicing between shattered chandeliers and broken support beams. Below them, the live-stream phone's mic picked up every clang, every mana crackle, every insult shouted mid-swing.
"HOLY SHIT HE'S FLYING—"
"VYRAK VS LUX LET'S GO."
"This is better than the Wrath Races."
"Did he just call him an overpolished peacock lmaoooo."
Vyrak tried to keep the fight clean, controlled — Pride magic loved precision. But Lux? Lux fought like Greed itself — nothing wasted, nothing given for free, every slash and teleport a perfect trade for pain.
He feinted left, then reappeared above Vyrak, dropping like a guillotine. Amare stabbed down, kissing the edge of Vyrak's shoulder before another barrier flared.
Vyrak hissed. The hit had actually cut through.
Lux grinned. "You're slower than him, too."
"Shut up," Vyrak snapped, wings flaring in a pride-fueled blast. Glyphs expanded around him in concentric rings, each one humming with the kind of power that wanted to erase you. "Let's see you dodge this!"
The rings collapsed inward in a blinding cascade — spears, chains, blasts of condensed white heat all crashing down on Lux's position.
Lux vanished.
Reappeared behind him.
And this time? Abyssal Grasp.
The floor beneath Vyrak split into shadow, tendrils erupting upward to wrap his legs, torso, wings — yanking him down mid-flight. The tendrils squeezed, shadow-points digging into armor joints until the metal creaked.
Vyrak snarled, feathers slicing the tendrils apart with bursts of light. But it wasn't clean. Lux was already on him, slashing low, driving Devorare into his thigh.
The blade drank deep — not just blood, but something more.
Vyrak's eyes widened. "What— what the hell are you—"
"Collecting," Lux said simply, twisting the blade before kicking him back.
Another orb — bright and pulsing with stolen pride — floated into Lux's chest.
The chat exploded.
"WAIT DID HE JUST EAT HIS POWER?"
"What the fuck greed hacks??"
"Holy shit no wonder the bounty's so high—"
Vyrak stumbled, one wing dragging slightly. "You— you're—"
"Dangerous?" Lux offered.
"I was going to say insufferable," Vyrak spat, summoning another spear of light.
Lux laughed. Actually laughed mid-fight. "If you think that's the insult that's going to save you, you haven't been paying attention."
Then he was in motion again. Teleport, slash, orb impact, repeat. The room became a hurricane of black shadows and white light, every impact rattling the surviving walls.
Vyrak fought hard. Credit where it was due — the man wasn't just a poser. He had skill, speed, and a mean streak. He fought with the same sweeping, dramatic style, but with an edge of street-brawler brutality.
Still…
He was losing.
Lux caught his arm mid-swing, slammed a knee into his ribs hard enough to make something crack, and sent him sprawling across the floor in a skid that took out half the trophy shelves.
"Get up," Lux said, voice even. "I'm not done billing you yet."
Vyrak coughed, pushing himself up on one elbow. His perfect hair was coming loose. The horror in his eyes wasn't just pain — it was realization.
"You— you're not here to kill me," he rasped.