The Snake God with SSS Rank Evolution System

Chapter 366: Bloodfeud Duel

Near the entrance of the guest house...A young Dark Elf stood there, his short white hair sticking up in messy, uneven spikes—as if he’d just woken from a rough sleep and hadn’t bothered to fix it. His yellow eyes were sharp, carrying a restless, simmering energy just beneath the surface. He wore a simple black tunic, practical and unadorned, cut for easy movement.

Azrynn stood a few paces away, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of exhaustion and barely concealed irritation. Her voice was distant, unyielding.

"Drizt. I told you to stop bothering me. I have things to prepare."

Drizt’s eyes widened in exaggerated shock, his hand flying to his chest as if she had just stabbed him. His voice carried a note of mock outrage, though there was a sharp edge beneath the theatrics.

"Bothering you? I’m just concerned! That’s what friends do, isn’t it? They look out for each other. They make sure their friends aren’t making terrible decisions."

Azrynn’s eye twitched. Her voice grew sharper, her patience visibly fraying. "I’m not making a terrible decision. I’m doing what the Elders asked of me."

Drizt’s expression shifted, the playful mask slipping for just a moment to reveal something rawer beneath—a flicker of genuine frustration, of hurt that he quickly masked with a scoff. His voice dropped, losing some of its earlier theatrics.

"Right. The Elders. They’re sending you off with a complete stranger and you’re just going along with it? What if he’s using you?"

Azrynn’s eyes narrowed. Her voice was cold, carrying a warning. "Adam is not using me. And I suggest you don’t make this situation any more difficult than you already have."

A flicker of irritation crossed Drizt’s face. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, urgent tone that carried a different kind of heat.

"You think I’m just being difficult? Az, we’ve known each other since we were children. We grew up together. I’ve been by your side through everything. And now some outsider shows up, saves the village, and suddenly you’re ready to leave with him like it’s nothing? Like I mean nothing?"

Azrynn’s expression flickered—just for a moment, a crack in her composed mask. But her voice remained steady, controlled.

"This isn’t about you, Drizt. This is about the village. About our people’s future. I’m not leaving for him—I’m leaving because the Elders asked me to."

Drizt’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His voice rose, cracking with frustration.

"Don’t give me that. You know that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking if you have feelings for him."

Azrynn met his gaze without flinching. Her voice was cold, almost flat.

"And if I do? What does it matter to you?"

Drizt’s eyes widened. His mouth opened, then closed. For a long moment, he simply stared at her, the words hanging between them like a blade. Then his expression hardened, a sharp, defiant edge settling into his features.

"Then I’m challenging him. To a Bloodfeud Duel."

Azrynn’s composure cracked. Her voice came out sharp, laced with disbelief.

"A Bloodfeud Duel?! Are you insane?! That’s not something you just throw around for personal reasons!"

Drizt’s voice was firm, unyielding. "I know exactly what it means. It’s our way. If he wants to take you away, he has to prove he’s worthy. That’s how it’s always been."

Azrynn stepped forward, her voice dropping to a low, urgent tone. "Drizt, listen to me. This isn’t the time for this. We don’t need unnecessary conflicts right now."

Drizt’s eyes blazed, his voice rising with stubborn defiance.

"I don’t care. If he wants you, he’ll have to face me first."

Azrynn’s shoulders sagged. Her voice came out quiet, almost resigned. "You’re being reckless, Drizt. This isn’t about honor. This is about your pride."

Drizt’s jaw tightened, his voice dropping low. "Maybe it is. But I’d rather lose with pride than watch you walk away without a fight."

Azrynn’s hand moved before she could think—smooth, practiced, the familiar weight of her bow settling into her grip. In one fluid motion, she nocked an arrow and drew the string back, the tip aimed squarely at Drizt’s chest. Her voice came out cold, sharp as the edge of a blade.

"What are you doing?!"

Azrynn’s yellow eyes blazed. "What I should have done a long time ago. I won’t let you ruin this. You’re making a fool of yourself, Drizt. And worse, you’re making a fool of our people."

Drizt’s eyes blazed, his pride wounded deeper than any blade could reach. His voice rose, sharp and defiant, masking the tremor beneath.

"You’d point a weapon at me? For him? Is he really that important to you?!"

Azrynn’s fingers curled tighter around the bow, her knuckles whitening against the polished wood. She forced herself to hold his gaze, to keep her voice steady.

"He’s better than you. That’s all you need to know."

Drizt’s face twisted. A bitter, broken laugh escaped him—a sound that carried more hurt than humor. His fists clenched at his sides, and his voice rose, raw and stubborn.

"Then I’m not backing down! I’ll challenge him to a duel, whether you like it or not!"

Azrynn’s fingers trembled on the bowstring. Her aim wavered just slightly, just enough to betray her hesitation. She opened her mouth to respond—

A sharp voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"What is going on here?"

Both of them froze. The Elder stood at the entrance of the main hall, his weathered face creased with disapproval, his yellow eyes sharp and unyielding. His staff tapped against the stone as he walked toward them, each step deliberate and heavy.

His gaze swept over them—Azrynn’s drawn bow, Drizt’s rigid posture, the tension crackling between them like a living thing.

"Azrynn. Drizt. I asked a question."

Azrynn’s bow lowered slowly, her fingers relaxing on the string. Her voice was tight, controlled.

"Drizt is threatening to challenge Adam to a Bloodfeud Duel."

The Elder’s gaze shifted to Drizt. His voice was calm, but carried a weight that pressed down on the younger elf like stone.

"Explain."

Drizt met the Elder’s gaze, his chin lifted in defiance, though his voice betrayed a tremor he couldn’t quite suppress.

"She’s leaving with him, Elder. I won’t just stand by and let that happen. If he wants to take her away, he has to prove he’s worthy. That’s our way."

The Elder was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He turned to Azrynn, his voice carrying a note of quiet amusement.

"Let him."

Azrynn’s eyes widened, her composure cracking. "Elder! He’s being reckless! This is not the time for—"

The Elder raised a hand, cutting her off gently. His voice was calm, steady, carrying the weight of centuries.

"He’s right, Azrynn. This is our way. If Drizt wishes to challenge Adam, then the duel must proceed. It is not our place to prevent it."

Azrynn’s voice rose, sharp with disbelief. "Elder, this is ridiculous! Adam is our savior! We can’t just let some petty personal grudge—"

The Elder’s voice dropped, calm but carrying a note of quiet certainty. "Do you truly believe Adam would lose?"

Azrynn’s protests faltered. Her mouth opened, then closed. Her voice came out quieter, hesitant.

"No... but—"

"Then what concern is it of yours?" The Elder’s voice softened, but his eyes remained sharp. "If you are certain of Adam’s strength, then let Drizt learn his lesson. He has been too stubborn for too long. Perhaps this will teach him humility."

Azrynn’s shoulders sagged, the tension draining from her frame like water from a cracked vessel. She let out a slow, trembling breath, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It’s not about whether he’ll win or lose. I know he’ll win. That’s not the point."

She looked away, her yellow eyes fixed on the distant lanterns of the village, her voice carrying the weight of years of frustration.

"The point is that we’re making him deal with this—Drizt’s wounded pride, his need to prove something. Adam saved our village. He risked his life for us. And now we’re rewarding him by dragging him into a petty squabble over me."

She shook her head slowly, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

"It’s not fair to him. None of this is fair to him."

The Elder’s gaze was steady, unyielding. "Perhaps. But sometimes fairness is not the most important thing. Drizt needs to learn that the world does not revolve around his feelings and that his pride will not shield him from consequence. If he wishes to challenge a dragon, then let him. He will learn more from one defeat than from a hundred warnings."

Drizt’s jaw tightened, a flush creeping up his neck. His voice came out defensive, though the edges had softened.

"I’m not a child, Elder. I know what I’m doing."

The Elder’s lips curved into a faint smile. "Then prove it." He turned to Azrynn. "Let the duel proceed. If Drizt truly believes he can win, let him try. And if he loses, he will have no one to blame but himself."