It was ti for my fight against the dwarf. I took a deep breath. My secret was now out to most of the remaining fighters. They now knew that I couldn’t cast a lot of spells—only two of them, in fact.
But in all honesty, I didn’t think it changed anything for . I was powerful enough to defeat anyone in my way, except that very last opponent of mine.
However, even with that, I had managed to find my way around the rules using Elena.
I couldn’t wait for it to happen; it would be the absolute best, without a doubt.
But before then, I had to keep my ambitions low and defeat the dwarf.
I arrived inside the arena; this ti we were alone, one against another. There were no other fights going on at the sa ti as everyone’s eyes were fixated on the two of us. It was a little stressful, but it also felt great, especially when I looked toward the King and saw Elena beside him, worried to death that sothing might happen to .
In the span of a few months, Elena and I had truly gotten closer to one another.
And I couldn’t wait for that to continue once we entered the Academy.
But before that, I had a fight to win.
The dwarf stood across from , unmoving.
His stature was short—barely coming up to my chest—but there wasn’t a soul in the crowd who doubted his ability to cleave a grown man in two with a single strike. His armor glead under the sun, layered dwarven steel, forged with ancient mana-infused alloys. Runes glowed faintly along the seams of his pauldrons and gauntlets. No one had been able to pierce that armor all tournant. Blades had bounced off like sticks against stone. Even spells had shattered like glass against it.
He hefted a massive war axe that looked too large for his fra, yet he swung it around with ease—like a man twirling a branch.
The crowd roared, but I didn’t hear it.
My fingers brushed over the hilt of my dagger.
’I haven’t even tried this in an actual fight yet...’ I thought.
But I had no choice now.
The announcer’s voice bood from above, "FINAL ROUND. JAKE VERSUS RAGNOR STONEBREAKER!"
A sharp breath.
The horn sounded.
The dwarf was a cannonball the mont the match began, charging forward with speed that betrayed his size. Each step cracked the ground beneath his boots. I barely had ti to dodge as his axe cleaved down, cutting the air with a deep, vibrating whummp.
I sidestepped, the blade missing by inches. The impact left a spiderweb fracture in the arena floor.
No room for error. Not with him.
I danced around the edge, jabbing occasionally, testing.
My dagger struck his armor with a clean clang—no effect.
He chuckled. "Ye think that little toothpick’ll hurt ?"
I grinned back, keeping my stance loose. "Just stretching."
He swung again—horizontal this ti. I dropped to a slide underneath it and ca up behind him, jabbing again at the backplate. Sa result. No mark.
The crowd didn’t cheer. They were holding their breath, watching. Waiting.
So was I.
I needed ti. Needed the angle. Needed the right mont for the technique Seraphina had shown .
I rembered the way she had done it. The stance. The faint glow around her limbs. The way she rotated her shoulder, bent her knee—how the blade hadn’t just stabbed the earth but had consud it. It wasn’t a strike. It was a compression. A collapsing of force into one impossible mont.
The dwarf ca again.
I used [Bloodbind].
The dagger grazed his shoulder—barely scratching the armor—but it was enough. The link was ford. I could now sense him—his location, his intent, the subtle shift of hostility rising like pressure in my lungs.
I’ll need that.
I ducked low and began circling him again, drawing energy inward.
He growled. "Stand and fight, coward!"
I didn’t. I was already moving faster. My dagger buzzed faintly in my hand. A red gleam began to trace the runes Seraphina had etched into the blade’s edge. My footwork matched the stance she’d demonstrated.
The next swing from him was a feint—he brought the axe low but reversed it at the last second, twisting into a vertical strike aid at where I dodged.
Too slow.
He caught in the side.
Pain exploded down my ribs as I flew backward, skidding across the arena. The world tilted. Blood leaked through my shirt.
Elena stood from her seat in the stands. I saw her mouth my na.
I coughed, wiped blood from my lips, and forced a grin.
"Okay," I muttered. "That hurt."
Ragnor started walking toward .
"You’re done," he said simply.
But I stood.
Not yet.
I steadied my stance.
The mory of Seraphina’s voice echoed in my mind.
"It’s not about speed. It’s about release. Focus all of yourself—your mana, your strength, your will—into a single line. You don’t swing the dagger. You drop it. You let it tear through everything. Because there’s nothing in this world that can stop pure focus."
I could feel it building in my arm. Energy twisted in my shoulder and wrist. A vibration through my bones. My legs rooted into the ground.
The dwarf raised his axe.
I moved.
In a blink, I crossed the space between us. His axe ca down—
But this ti, I didn’t dodge.
I dropped under his guard, twisted my hips, and thrust the dagger straight forward—not at his chest, not at his shoulder, but between the plates in his left side, where armor t joint.
The world paused.
My mana surged, compressing into the blade. The dagger humd—then exploded forward with force.
There was a crack like the air itself shattered.
The impact didn’t just pierce him—it sent a shockwave through the arena floor. A crater blood beneath us, the stone buckling, dirt and debris flying skyward. The crowd gasped in unison.
The dagger sank through his armor as if it were paper.
Blood sprayed as the dwarf coughed, his axe falling from his grip.
He staggered back.
The armor, still intact everywhere else, was now split open along his side—like a tin can peeled by a god.
Ragnor collapsed to one knee.
Silence fell.
I stepped forward, placing the dagger at his neck.
He looked up at . His lips were trembling. "What... what kind of dagger is that...?"
I didn’t answer.
He slumped forward, unconscious.
The arena exploded with cheers.
The announcer’s voice rang through the sky, "VICTORY—JAKE!"
I didn’t smile. I just sheathed the dagger, heart pounding.
The crater beneath my feet was still steaming.
From the stands, Elena was crying again—this ti with joy.
I looked down at the dwarf, then up at the king.
This was only the beginning.
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