The following morning, Nolan woke early. After taking a quick shower, he dressed in his battle suit, took his sword, and waited by the door. Soon, Celia and Linda arrived to et him for training. Celia carried her sword, while Linda readied her bow and arrow.
The three of them, along with a few others, headed down to the carriages. Each participant had their personal carriage, while Lyra, Damien, and so non-participating guests rode together in a separate one.
After a few hours of travel, the carriages finally arrived at the arena’s participant quarters, located at the back of the grand arena. One by one, all participants—including Nolan, Celia, and Linda—descended.
"Good to see you all back. Welco," the emissary greeted. "Look at this crowd! It’s even larger than last week. We need to give them a show. Participants, please take your assigned seats. When your na is called, you will enter the arena."
"Yes, sir!" the participants chorused.
The audience sat separately from the participants, the grandstands packed with eager spectators. The emissary raised his voice using the wind-compression device, carrying sound clearly across the arena.
"Everyone, how are you today?" he asked.
"We’re good!" the crowd replied, voices echoing.
"Are you ready?" the emissary continued.
"Yes!" the audience shouted in unison.
"Then let us begin! Give a round of applause for our king—the ruler of this empire, and not just that, the king of Sindra, who is here as last ti! Also, give a warm welco to the prince of Sindra, Alaric! And finally, the hero himself, Davin Baldric!"
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, the excitent palpable as the tournant was set to continue.
The emissary’s voice echoed across the vast arena, amplified by the wind-compression device. "Are you all ready?"
The crowd roared in response, their excitent vibrating through the stands.
"Now then," the emissary continued, pacing dramatically across the stage. "I’m going to start calling out the nas of those who will be participating in today’s battles. This is what you’ve all been waiting for, so quiet down and listen closely! The matches will begin with the strongest combatants first. Those of lesser rank will fight later."
The audience hushed, tension rising.
"So now, I call upon..." The emissary paused, smiling knowingly as he drew out the mont. "Hmm... Asta! Go to the back of the arena and get ready!"
A few cheers erupted from the crowd as Asta rose from his seat, expression calm and focused.
"And for his opponent..." The emissary grinned, raising his hand toward the participant seats. "Soone who claims to be rank E, but has proven ti and again to be stronger than even rank X—Nolan Thorne!"
The crowd exploded with noise. The wooden benches rattled beneath the stomping feet and thunderous clapping.
"Looks like I’m up," Nolan said, turning to Linda and Celia.
"Master, please be careful," Celia said, her voice soft but worried.
"Yeah, don’t push yourself too hard," Linda added. "We’ll be cheering for you."
Nolan smiled faintly and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "Don’t worry about . I’ll be fine."
With that, he rose from his seat and walked toward the arena’s entrance, sword in hand. The tallic hum of his weapon faintly resonated in his grip, responding to his steady heartbeat.
After a brief pause, the emissary raised his arm once more. "Now then—let the first match begin! Asta, step into the arena!"
Asta walked forward through the glowing entrance, his calm figure erging into the sunlight. The crowd cheered wildly.
"Ah yes!" the emissary declared proudly. "Asta—one of the strongest adventurers alive! Though officially ranked X, he’s been given the title ’God of Ice,’ a na he earned with his overwhelming mastery of cryo-magic. You all saw what he did last week—it was nothing short of spectacular!"
The arena shook with applause.
"And now... his challenger, the man whose power defies classification—Nolan Thorne! Step into the arena!"
The crowd erupted again as Nolan appeared through the shimring entrance. His battle suit glimred faintly under the sunlight, the chrono-energy in his blade pulsing softly like a heartbeat.
As he walked toward Asta, a smirk tugged at his lips. Ah, this is going to be fun, he thought. Asta’s strong—strong enough to make this interesting. I know I’ll win, but still... maybe he’ll make work for it.
The two stood across from each other, eyes locked, their auras clashing invisibly in the space between them. The arena fell silent—anticipation hanging thick in the air.
The emissary raised his hand high. "Participants ready?"
Both nodded.
"Then let the first battle—BEGIN!"
The crowd’s roar faded to a tense silence as the match officially began.
Asta and Nolan stood opposite each other, neither making the first move. Their eyes locked, unblinking—both n reading the other, testing the air, feeling the pressure between them.
From the stands, spectators leaned forward, waiting for one of them to strike. The wind stirred faintly across the arena floor.
Finally, Asta broke the silence, his voice low but confident.
"Finally... I’m back again. My mana’s restored, and I’m as good as new." His sharp eyes narrowed on Nolan. "I’ve watched this guy fight before. I don’t know his limits, but that suit he’s wearing—it’s not ordinary. I can tell he’s strong."
He raised his hand, mana flaring blue around his fingertips. "But still, that doesn’t matter."
Frost shimred in the air as Asta’s magic surged, forming a massive spear of ice—gleaming and jagged, twenty feet long, its edges sharp enough to cut through steel. The crowd gasped as the sheer mana pressure spread through the arena.
The ice spear trembled once, then shot forward like a teor, tearing through the air toward Nolan at blinding speed.
But Nolan didn’t move.
He simply lifted his left hand.
When the spear struck, a thunderous crack echoed across the arena—followed by a shockwave of frozen mist. The weapon shattered instantly, exploding into a thousand glittering shards that fell harmlessly to the ground.
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