Chapter 36: The battle ended
They stepped into the private training sanctum, a reinforced bunker designed specifically for the heavy-duty combat of the family’s Emperors.
The walls were lined with multi-layered runic arrays and soul-suppressing lead to ensure no shockwaves leaked into the estate.
No commoner or low-level family mber was ever permitted to set foot in this hallowed hall.
"You can go all out here," Elyndros stated, his voice echoing against the cold, tallic surfaces.
"The barriers will hold."
Alex and Darion took their positions at the center of the arena.
Anna stood by the entrance, her hands white-knuckled and trembling.
She knew the terrifying reputation Darion held at Zenith Martial Academy.
They called him the "Demon King" for a reason.
He was the type of combatant who didn’t just defeat opponents; he dismantled them.
Whether facing humans or monsters, no one had lasted more than sixty seconds against him in over a year.
Even the academy’s SSS-rank talent holder was considered a tier below Darion’s sheer combat instinct.
"Do you have any flying knives, Vice President?" Alex asked, turning toward Arthur.
"My specialized wristband is currently in the research lab, and three knives won’t be enough for this."
Darion raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his handso features.
"How many knives can you actually manipulate simultaneously?"
"Ten," Alex replied with a hint of dissatisfaction.
He was comparing himself to Elyndros, who could juggle twenty-five with the grace of a conductor.
Darion’s face twitched, his pride taking a subtle hit.
He was the most celebrated Spirit Master at Zenith specifically because he could control seven.
It was a feat he had only achieved after reaching Level 7 Grandmaster.
Before that, his limit had been five.
"I hope you can endure what’s coming," Darion said, his playful tone vanishing into a deadly chill.
"I apologize in advance if you sustain so injuries."
Suddenly, Darion’s presence exploded.
The air around him sharpened.
A single flying knife slid under his boots, lifting him into the air where he hovered, hands clasped calmly behind his back.
"Oh? He’s taking the boy seriously from the very first second?" Elyndros muttered, leaning forward with genuine interest.
Elyndros produced ten silver slivers from a storage ring and tossed them toward Alex.
"Brat, those are the flying knives I used when I was at the Saint level.
They are sharper and more durable than any standard Saint-class artifact.
If you win this, consider them yours."
Alex nodded politely.
The ten knives imdiately snapped into a rotating orbit around him like a divine shield.
His own aura shifted, turning cold and focused.
Swish!
With a sound like tearing silk, a knife blurred toward Alex at the speed of sound.
It was a probe, a test of his reflexes.
Alex parried it with one of his own blades, the impact ringing out like a hamr on an anvil.
The force behind Darion’s strike was at least 500 tonnes.
Alex’s Eye of Revelation flared as he scanned his opponent’s combat data.
[Strength: 25,000 tonnes
Speed: 1,000 m/s
Defense: 25,000 tonnes
Spirit: 1,000 tonnes
"His stats are monstrous," Alex realized.
Darion’s physical power already surpassed a standard Level 9 Grandmaster, whose ceiling was typically 20,000 tonnes.
"In a straight contest of raw power, I am nowhere near his level.
And he hasn’t even touched his primary talent yet.
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