As Greg stepped closer, Luxion relayed important information to Leon:
"The surface of Greg's armor shows nurous traces of repairs."
Hearing this, Leon nodded to himself thoughtfully and said:
"Hmm... Indeed. It seems he's been in many battles, but unlike others, he prefers to repair his armor rather than replace it."
At that mont, Greg spoke up, his voice filled with challenge:
"Looks like we underestimated you. Thanks to Brad... I won't be holding back anymore. In fact, I'll be more cautious."
He paused for a mont, as if deep in thought, then narrowed his eyes and asked:
"Your na is Leon Bartfort, right? I'll rember that."
Suddenly, his expression twisted with anger.
"But you know what? You really pissed off! In the end, your victory over Brad was entirely thanks to your armor, not your own skill!"
Leon smirked and responded in a deliberately mocking tone:
"Yeah, that's right! And I'm proud of this armor, which will help crush you."
Greg's face turned red with rage, and a vein bulged on his temple. Clenching his teeth, he hissed furiously:
"I'll destroy you!"
At that mont, the referee stepped forward, his voice echoing through the arena:
"Leon Fou Bartfort and Greg Fou Seberg! Are you ready?"
Both fighters assud their battle stances.
"Begin the duel!" the referee announced loudly.
As soon as the command was given, he quickly retreated to avoid interfering in the fight.
Almost imdiately, a massive cloud of smoke erupted from Leon's armor, instantly engulfing the entire arena. Visibility dropped to zero—judges and spectators alike couldn't make out a thing.
Inside the thick smoke, Greg's furious voice echoed:
"LEON!"
His tone was filled with rage.
"Even with your powerful armor, you still resort to dirty tricks?! Have you no sha?! Do you think a smoke screen will save you?!"
But then, he heard Leon's calm, slightly amused voice:
"A smoke screen?"
At that mont, Greg felt an overwhelming heaviness in his eyelids. The world around him blurred, sounds beca muffled and distorted, and strange hallucinations flickered before his eyes.
"You... What did you do to , Bartfort?!" he roared, slapping his own face in a desperate attempt to shake off the drowsiness.
But it didn't help.
Leon chuckled and casually said:
"Nothing much... It's just that this isn't a smoke screen."
His voice then took on a sinister edge.
"It's a sleeping gas."
Greg's eyes widened in shock, but his body was already failing him. His reactions slowed, his limbs beca heavy, and controlling his armor grew increasingly difficult. His balance faltered.
"Sleeping gas...?" he growled, struggling to stay on his feet.
But the exhaustion was too strong. His eyelids drooped, his body beca sluggish, and his consciousness faded.
"You... bastard..."
These were Greg's last words before his armor, along with himself, collapsed onto the arena floor.
As soon as he fell, the gas began to dissipate, and the spectators could finally see what had happened.
The crowd held its breath.
And then—an explosion of cheers and shocked exclamations!
Those who supported Leon erupted into celebration, chanting his na with renewed energy. anwhile, the prince's followers sat in stunned silence, unable to believe their eyes.
The referee, who had been observing the fight from a safe distance, finally landed on the arena floor. He assessed the situation carefully.
But before he could say anything, Leon spoke up, his voice steady and confident:
"I used sleeping gas."
These words caused an imdiate uproar among the audience!
The prince's supporters exploded with fury.
"Referee, that's a violation! Disqualify Leon!"
"He used gas! That can't be allowed!"
"Justice must prevail!"
Angry shouts echoed throughout the arena. Many spectators jumped to their feet, demanding an imdiate verdict.
The referee frowned but didn't rush to declare a winner. Instead, he took to the air and flew toward the other judges to discuss the matter.
anwhile, chaos erupted in the stands.
"Did you see how he won?! That's unfair!" one of the prince's supporters shouted.
"Shut up! He used strategy, not brute force!" a Leon fan snapped back.
Insults began flying back and forth. The tension was rising, and it seed like fights could break out at any mont.
Fortunately, the academy's teachers and staff managed to maintain order, preventing the conflict from escalating into sothing more serious.
After five minutes of heated discussions, the judges finally reached a unanimous decision.
The head referee returned to the arena, raised his hand to call for silence, and solemnly announced:
"The winner is... Leon Bartfort!"
The crowd erupted with emotions!
Leon's supporters cheered in triumph, celebrating his victory. anwhile, the prince's followers started protesting again, but the referee quickly added:
"However, from this mont forward, Leon Bartfort is forbidden from using gas-based, smoke-based, or similar weaponry for the remainder of the duel!"
Though this decision didn't satisfy the prince's supporters, they had no choice but to accept it.
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