"You didn't refuse... did you?" Zephyr gazed at Loya with profound eyes.
Loya could not have been unaware of his comrades' intentions. To honor the bond of their camaraderie, he had resolutely chosen to accept their challenge—and even actively goaded them into attacking all at once. That was the entire Elite Camp! While most of them would eventually end up as officers below the rank of Commander, their collective power was undeniable. Even a Vice Admiral could not guarantee a flawless retreat when facing them all simultaneously.
As Loya had said, no one could beat him one-on-one. But quantity has a quality all its own. In a one-versus-many scenario, unless he used large-scale area-of-effect destruction, injuries were inevitable. Zephyr and the others watched the arena in stunned silence, shocked by Loya's audacity and saddened by the weight of this friendship.
Hansa had been listening in silence until now. He spoke slowly: "Cough! Thank you all... Tony, go back. The battle that follows belongs only to and Loya."
Tony gnashed his teeth in frustration, turned, and left. The two stood face-to-face, staring each other down. Around Loya, cold air began to churn, encasing him in a heavy suit of ice armor. Hansa unsheathed his long sword, gripping it vertically with both hands, the tip pointing directly at Loya.
Zephyr nodded to the official referee. The man saluted, stepped forward, and shouted: "The match... begins!"
SHING!
Almost the instant the word left the referee's lips, a crescent moon of energy erupted across the arena. The sheer sharpness of the sword intent was so acute that even the spectators far away felt a chill on their skin. The crescent moved with thunderous speed but vanished in silence. A second later, Hansa reappeared before Loya, still holding his follow-through stance.
"One-Sword Style: Moonlit Slash."
"That's... my Arc Slash!" Tony's eyes widened from the stands. The posture had changed, but the technique was unmistakably his.
Zephyr, who had been watching Hansa closely, sighed softly: "Even at the end, this is the path you choose, Hansa."
Hansa's sword was fast—far faster than the other swordsn in the Elite Camp. He was faster than Loya, too. But even so, he didn't land a hit. Hansa knew that before his blade could touch Loya, Loya had already used Soru to vanish, leaving behind nothing but an afterimage.
He's already seen through these techniques? Hansa pondered. Suddenly, his Observation Haki triggered a warning. He imdiately spun and slashed his sword horizontally.
CLANG!
A piercing screech of tal on tal made the spectators' hearts flutter. If Hansa had been even a fraction of a second slower, Loya's razor-sharp ice-claw would have pierced his throat.
Seeing his ambush fail, Loya flickered in mid-air to evade the pressure blade erupting from Hansa's sword. Engaging a swordsman of this caliber in a head-on lee was unwise. He skirted to Hansa's side and unleashed three silvery-white vacuum blades at point-blank range.
"Rankyaku: Mikazuki (Tempest Kick: Crescent Moon)!"
Facing Loya's heavy-hitting attack, Hansa remained expressionless. He blurred his sword, channeling his strength before swinging out—Clang! Clang! Clang!—shattering the three vacuum slashes.
"Strong!" After forcing back Loya's attack, Hansa inhaled deeply to suppress the tremor in his hands. His fighting spirit surged. The standard-issue long sword humd; his spirit transford into a naked blade—he no longer looked like a sickly patient at all.
"Soru!" Hansa kicked off the ground, instantly appearing before Loya, his sword sweeping diagonally upward. "Take this! Mantis Hunts the Sparrow!"
The sword intent locked onto Loya. The sharpness felt like it was cutting through the ice armor and slicing into Loya's skin. Loya felt a sting of pain. He knew the feeling of being "locked on"—it felt inescapable. Unlike Tony, Hansa didn't need to channel his energy.
Loya's expression remained steady. He didn't dodge. Blue magic energy coiled around his fingers, and the diamond-shaped magic crest on his wrist humd.
"Ice Dragon's Crushing Fang!"
SHING!
A cold gleam flashed. Hansa was stunned to see his strike shattered. The air was filled with sharp sword-qi that carved furrows into the arena floor. Before Hansa could react, the monstrous force transferred through the blades made his chest ache, and a trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.
"Truly... terrifying strength."
Hansa used Soru to retreat, then imdiately lunged again. He condensed his sword qi into a curved blade that shot toward Loya in the air.
CRACK!
Loya backhanded the energy blade, shattering it. He blew the ice crystals off his knuckles. "Your strength is truly remarkable. Power, speed, swordplay, Observation Haki—all top-tier. But unfortunately, that's all there is."
Loya glanced at Tony and the others in the stands and chuckled. "You didn't honestly believe that was the extent of my strength, did you?"
The others bit their lips in frustration, glaring at Loya. They knew, of course; they were just looking for comfort. Though the fight had been brief, the feeling of Loya's unmatchable power had already taken deep root in their hearts.
"When dueling , please refrain from looking elsewhere." Hansa's tone remained flat, his pale skin and hollow eyes making the remark chilling.
"Well, let's just play around then." Loya laughed, lunging forward to engage Hansa in a flurry of blows.
In the stands, Zephyr shook his head in regret. Hansa was a pure swordsman, which gave him a passion for challenging the strong that was unseen in others. He wasn't after fa, prestige, or rank—he just wanted to be strong for the sake of being strong. It made him grip his sword tighter than anyone else. But fate was cruel; his body was simply too frail. Every ti he pushed his limits, he was dancing on the edge of death. Against a physical monster like Loya, he was at a severe disadvantage.
"Loya is far stronger than Hansa... at this rate, Hansa will lose very soon," Onigumo said with a sigh, chewing his cigar.
Momonga nodded. "Indeed. However, Hansa has already accepted death. If a person no longer fears death, the power they unleash is terrifying. It is too early to say who will win this fight."
In just a few breaths, Loya and Hansa clashed over a hundred tis. Loya didn't rely on long-range magic to kite him; he respected Hansa's choice. Pure swordsn were rare. A blaze of glory was his final destination. To be blasted away by spells was an insult he couldn't forgive himself for.
"However... it's over!"
With each clash, the physical disparity grew apparent. Hansa's counterattacks grew weaker. Loya gave him no room to breathe, weaving around him, dodging blades, and launching a storm of attacks that forced Hansa into a desperate defense.
After another heavy clash, Loya poured everything into a final strike, transforming his claws into a fist. He shoved Hansa's sword aside, but in the process, his own shoulder was sliced open, blood pouring out. His ice armor cracked and scattered.
So, I can't block a Master Swordsman's cut, Loya thought. It wasn't a surprise. But the wound was worth it. Facing the now-exposed Hansa, Loya coated his fist in blue energy, the frost freezing the moisture in the air.
"Ice Dragon's Iron Fist!"
DONG!
A dull thud echoed. Hansa spat out a spray of blood-red ice crystals and was sent flying.
BOOM!
He smashed through the outer wall of the arena, sending rubble soaring into the sky before it rained back down.
"Is it over?" The crowd in the stands looked toward the smoking breach. They weren't surprised. Loya's strength was undeniable; he was a monster, and no one doubted that.
Reviews
All reviews (0)