Linda walked out of the arena and made her way back toward the stands, heading straight to where Nolan was seated. When Nolan saw her approaching, he stood up imdiately.
"Did you see how well she perford?" Linda asked, stepping to the front of the seating area.
"Your performance was incredible," Nolan said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Thank you, Master. I’m so delighted to hear that," Linda replied, smiling as she sat down. Nolan returned to his seat.
"Master... were you worried about ? Were you too worried?" she asked.
"If I’m being honest," Nolan said, "I wasn’t supernaturally worried. I was concerned, yes, but not too much. You have the ability to slow things down for yourself—you can predict your opponent’s moves. That’s your strength. The fight I’m truly worried about hasn’t happened yet."
"Master... ? You’re worried about my fight? Do you think I’m not strong?" Celia asked.
"No, it’s not that," Nolan replied. "We haven’t watched Sela previous match, so we don’t know what she is capable of. She might be able to use Life‑Consu. What Linda did was impressive because she could handle it. Even if opponents are extrely resilient—healing quickly, refusing to give up—she could still make them fall unconscious. That’s what you’ll need to do when your turn cos."
"Master, there’s no need to tell . I already know," Celia said, determination shining in her eyes. "After Linda’s performance, I understand what it takes. She didn’t lose, and she ended her fight quickly. I’ll do the sa in my match—I promise you, Master."
"No problem, I know you would. Let’s just watch," Nolan said.
"No, that’s it. That’s all of them," Celia replied, eyes fixed on the arena.
"Look at the way they are running. Are you all ready?" the emissary called out.
"The last match was incredible. Linda proved her strength—defeating two massive ogres, each twice the height of a human, not to ntion the red wolves and Cora. She did it easily, and she did it quickly. That’s no small feat," the emissary continued.
"Now, for our next fight: Zevric and Lucian. You all should be prepared. Step to the back of the arena!" The crowd erupted as the announcent echoed.
"Now, Lucian, Zevric, step to the back of the arena," the emissary called.
Zevric stood up, gripping his sword tightly, while Lucian rose as well. Both walked from the crowd toward the back of the arena, readying themselves for the fight.
"Now, for what you’ve all been waiting for! Who do you think will win?" the emissary continued. "Zevric is incredibly strong—he was even the first to go toe-to-toe with the Ice God. And Lucian is no slouch either."
The crowd roared as Zevric stepped into the arena. The gates slid open, and he walked in, sword in hand. Though it appeared ordinary, there was a deadly aura about it.
"Now, Lucian!" the emissary shouted. Another gate slid open, and Lucian entered, his eyes locking with Zevric’s.
"Let the fight begin!" the emissary announced.
Imdiately, Zevric raised his sword, aiming a powerful slash at Lucian. Instantly, a sword appeared in Lucian’s hand, blocking the attack. He rolled backward to evade, then countered, sending a flurry of strikes with both hands.
Zevric’s sword cut through one of the incoming strikes between Lucian’s fingers, deflecting it aside. He spun and delivered a kick, forcing Lucian back.
Lucian reacted quickly, summoning another set of swords—ten flying mid-air from his inventory. He launched them toward Zevric, but Zevric was relentless. He knocked each sword away mid-flight. As they fell to the ground, Zevric didn’t relent. With a single swipe, he divided each sword into two, doubling the onslaught—and then continued slashing, cutting through every weapon with perfect precision.
The crowd erupted, witnessing the sheer speed and skill of both fighters.
Suddenly, a massive sword appeared in Lucian’s hand—just as large and imposing as Zevric’s. With a burst of speed, Lucian charged forward, swinging his sword in a powerful arc at Zevric.
Zevric t the strike head-on, and the force of their clash sent sparks flying. Their swords rang loudly, echoing throughout the arena as they pushed against each other, neither giving an inch.
The speed of their movents increased with every strike, each clash more intense than the last.
Ah... he’s fast. And not just that... I watched his fight against Aster—it was incredible. He’s stronger than I expected, Lucian thought, gritting his teeth. I have to push myself to the limit. If I don’t, I’m going to lose. I have to keep going... and hope he doesn’t use that slash he used against Asta. If he does, it could end the fight in an instant.
Lucian shifted his stance, increasing both his speed and the weight behind each swing of his massive blade.
Hmm... he’s keeping up. Strong... but I want to win. I could end this fight anyti, but... I want to see what he’s truly capable of, Zevric thought, tightening his grip and surging forward with renewed force.
The two fighters slamd their blades together again and again, each strike resonating through the arena like thunder.
I have to try sothing... I need to push further. I must land a surprise attack.
Lucian’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his sword. This sword... it’s no ordinary blade. It’s legendary. A sword that chooses its wielder—and whoever it accepts gains incredible strength. That’s what I’m up against right now.
He took a slow breath, watching Zevric’s stance carefully. He might be the only true obstacle in this tournant. The others may be strong, but him... he’s different.
Their blades pressed against each other, the tal screeching as both warriors pushed forward. Muscles tensed, sparks flared—then, with one final shove, they broke apart, sliding backward across the arena floor.
Zevric lowered his sword to his side, then burst forward in a sprint. Lucian mirrored him instantly. The two clashed again, swords ringing in rapid succession, moving with such blinding speed that the crowd could barely keep up.
Suddenly, four new blades materialized in Zevric’s hands, summoned straight from his inventory. Almost at the sa mont, Lucian drew several glowing darts from his own.
Lucian flung the darts with deadly precision. Zevric barely reacted—his body moved instinctively, dodging three in a flash of motion. But one grazed his shoulder, leaving a shallow cut. He tore it out himself and tossed it aside, ignoring the pain entirely as he charged forward again, swinging his sword with relentless fury.
The two fighters seed to dance across the arena, skating across the floor as their blades t again and again, echoing like thunderclaps.
From the crowd, Linda leaned forward. "They haven’t even used any special techniques yet... nothing at all."
Nolan folded his arms, eyes fixed on Zevric. "Yeah. We watched his last fight, and even then, he was unbelievable. He’s one of the strongest contenders here—no question about it."
Linda nodded. "He went toe-to-toe with Hester... but that sword he’s using now—it’s different. It’s powerful. Maybe even as powerful as..."
"As soone I once knew," Nolan finished quietly.
Celia turned to him, curious. "Who’s that? Whose sword are you talking about, Master?"
Nolan’s gaze didn’t leave the arena. "A friend. A demi-human who trained with the sword. He has a blade unlike any other... and he’s also the one who gave this battle suit."
Celia’s eyes widened. "A demi-human? Then he must’ve been incredibly strong."
"Yes," Nolan said with a faint smile. "He still is. I haven’t seen him in a while, but I know he’s out there—sowhere—getting even stronger."
Celia turned her gaze back to the arena. The clash of steel continued—Zevric and Lucian locked in a blur of motion, neither giving up, neither slowing down. Sparks flew each ti their blades t, the air trembling from the force of their strikes.
"If you’re going to keep relying on cheap tricks, then it’s about ti I end this," Zevric snarled, blade humming in his hand. "You can’t win with gimmicks forever. I’ll use your own tricks to finish you — you’ll see."
Lucian’s jaw tightened. He stepped in, sword ringing as he tried to find an opening. "So that’s your plan? Test my trick against ? Fine. Let’s see who gets outsmarted."
Zevric’s eyes narrowed. "You missed. You misjudged the angle." He shifted his weight and pressed the attack, steel grinding against steel. "You think your little illusions will work on ? Watch closely."
"I’m not impressed by threats," Lucian shot back, voice low. He forced a rapid parry, then spun, sending a blade-edge flicking toward Zevric’s shoulder. Sparks showered as Zevric blocked and countered in a heartbeat.
They clashed again and again—sword on sword—each strike faster and harder than the last. The arena throbbed with the sound of steel, the sand kicked up into whirlwinds around their feet. Neither gave quarter; both were testing limits, probing for a single, decisive opening.
"Enough talk," Zevric growled, bracing for the next exchange. "Show your best."
"Always have," Lucian replied, and the two collided once more, the rhythm of their duel rising into a thunderous cadence.
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