On the raised stone of the arena, Nira Ashford’s face was a mask of sheer humiliation. She gasped for air, her silver teeth bared in a snarl as she glared at the man who refused to even draw his blade.
"Ethan Lyle! Are you a warrior or a coward? Stop running!"
To Nira, Ethan’s effortless evasion wasn't strategy—it was a calculated insult. He was a predator toying with a trapped bird, a master chef watching a fly buzz against a windowpane. He wasn't fighting; he was mocking her entire existence.
"Is there a rule against dodging?" Ethan asked, his shoulders lifting in a lazy shrug that infuriated her further.
"Fine! Let’s see you dodge this!"
Nira’s scream was raw. Her long hair whipped violently around her despite the stagnant air, and then, the atmosphere ignited. The temperature skyrocketed in a heartbeat, the oxygen turning into a searing weight that scorched the lungs.
"Crimson Inferno!"
She erupted. Radiant, gold-tinged flames burst from her pores, turning her into a living sun. The fire bled outward, weaving into a literal sea of molten gold that surged across the stage, cornering Ethan with predatory intent.
Ethan’s brow furrowed. He began to move—not just running, but a rhythmic, blurred sequence of lateral leaps. The fire roared, hungry and absolute, yet Ethan moved through the inferno like water through a sieve. He was a ghost in the machine, his timing so precise that the tongues of gold flame licked only the empty air he had occupied a millisecond prior.
Then, he felt the familiar, agonizing pull in his gut.
Sacrifice: Half a segment of the liver.
The internal toll was instantaneous. His Agility stat didn't just climb; it detonated, multiplying sevenfold. The world slowed to a crawl. Ethan transformed into a streak of violet light, a jagged bolt aimed straight for the heart of the sun.
Nira never saw him coming. The speed was no longer human—it was a glitch in reality.
Thwack!
The sound was sickeningly domestic. Ethan hadn't used the edge of the Starfall Scar; he had gripped the hilt and brought the heavy, flat spine of the blade down squarely on the crown of Nira’s head.
Nira collapsed into a heap, clutching her skull. She had lived a life of silk and praise; she didn't know how to process this kind of blunt, physical indignity. Tears pricked her eyes as a massive, throbbing knot swelled on her forehead.
"You lost," Ethan said. His voice was a flat, dead calm.
The gap between them was a canyon. Had he used the edge, the Starfall Scar would have split her from crown to sternum before she could even blink.
Those two words shattered what remained of her psyche. This wasn't just a defeat; it was a desecration. She would have preferred being carried off on a stretcher like Dorian Cross. Anything was better than this "bonk" on the head.
"Who said I lost?" She scrambled up, her face flushed with a mixture of rage and pain. "I haven't yielded! I can still stand! This isn't over!"
She lashed out, hurling a volley of fireballs with reckless abandon. Ethan sighed, his eyes narrowing. The girl was stubborn to the point of delusion. He decided then—the next opening he got, he’d simply kick her off the platform and end the farce.
To avoid accidentally murdering his teacher’s daughter, he refrained from his more lethal Forbidden Incantations, relying solely on the erratic rhythm of the Blink Dance.
"I won't lose! Not to someone like you!" Nira’s pride reached its breaking point. Her aura flared, reaching a desperate, volatile peak. Her hands flew into a frantic series of mudras, and the book hovering before her—The Infernal Codex—began to flip its pages so fast they screamed.
The air warped. Crimson runes manifested in the sky, pulsing like an open wound.
"Try dodging this, Ethan Lyle!" she shrieked. "Helix Inferno!"
She thrust her palms forward. The runes converged, twisting into a massive, screaming tornado of white-hot flame. Unlike her previous attacks, this vortex felt sentient. It groaned with a life of its own, the heat so intense it began to melt the very surface of the arena.
Nira slumped, soaked in sweat, her skin deathly pale. The strain was immense. Even the The Infernal Codex, an Epic-tier artifact, showed visible singe marks on its binding. She felt a pang of regret for the damage to her treasure, but the hunger for victory overrode it. This spell was a seeker. It wouldn't miss.
Ethan tried to sidestep, but the firestorm banked with him, a heat-seeking predator glued to his heat signature.
A tracking spell?
Ethan glanced at Nira, who was barely standing a few dozen feet away. A simple solution presented itself. With seven times his natural speed, he vanished, reappearing directly behind her.
"A mage standing unprotected while casting a homing spell against a speedster... did you skip every combat theory class?" Ethan’s voice whispered in her ear.
The Helix Inferno didn't care about its creator. It roared toward Ethan, which meant it was currently screaming directly toward Nira’s back.
"Cancel it," Ethan commanded.
Nira looked at the oncoming wall of fire. Her eyes turned cold, fueled by a suicidal stubbornness. "Never!"
Instead of cutting the flow, she poured the last of her mana into the spell. The tornado doubled in size, turning into a roar of pure annihilation. She was going to take him down with her.
"Nira!" In the stands, Caelum Ashford surged to his feet, his face pale. He hadn't expected his daughter to be this psychotic.
"Save them!" Roland Marsh barked to the standby healers.
Ethan looked at the girl. Crazy bitch.
He couldn't use her as a human shield. Caelum had been good to him; he couldn't let the man’s daughter turn into charcoal out of spite. Ethan reached out, grabbed Nira by the collar, and jerked her behind him. He raised a single hand.
"Forbidden Incantation: Wall of the Forsaken."
The ground groaned. A slab of obsidian-like stone erupted from the arena floor. It wasn't physical matter; it felt like a slice of the void made manifest.
[Forbidden Incantation: Wall of the Forsaken. The caster sacrifices vitality to summon a barrier from the depths of the Netherworld. Negates all frontal attacks from opponents within 20 levels of the caster.]
At Level 18, Ethan’s wall was an absolute law. Anyone under Level 38 was effectively hitting a god’s shield. The Helix Inferno slammed into the black stone and was silenced. There was no explosion, no recoil—the wall simply ate the fire, swallowing the heat until the air turned cold.
The wall crumbled into ash. Ethan stood unmoved. Behind him, Nira was frozen, untouched by the flames she had unleashed.
The examiners froze in their tracks, their prepared spells fizzling out.
"What... what kind of power is that?" Nira whispered. She had been ready to die, but he had brushed her ultimate attack aside like a nuisance and shielded her body with his own. For a fleeting second, the wall around her heart cracked. She looked up at him, her breath hitching.
"Hey, don't space out," Ethan said, his voice strangely soft. He reached out and gently ruffled her hair. His smile was almost tender.
Nira blinked, her face heating up for a reason that had nothing to do with fire. Maybe... maybe he wasn't so bad.
The livestream chat exploded.
— “Wait, is this a romance suddenly? I’m shipping it!”
— “The cold knight and the fiery princess! He didn't want to hurt her!”
— “He was dodging the whole time just to keep her safe! My heart!”
On screen, Ethan slowly turned Nira around by her shoulders, positioning her back to him.
Then, he wound up and delivered a brutal, full-power kick directly to her backside.
"Get lost! You’re out of your mind!"
BAM!
Nira didn't just fall; she flew. Her body traced a perfect, pathetic arc through the sky before face-planting into the dirt outside the arena boundary.
The silence that followed was deafening.
The audience: "..."
The examiners: "..."
Caelum Ashford: "..."
The camera zoomed in on Nira as she tumbled. There was a clear, size-11 boot print stamped onto the seat of her expensive combat trousers.
"Lyle! You... you bastard!" Nira scrambled up, spitting sand out of her mouth, her face purple with rage. Any "filter" the audience had placed on the moment shattered. Her left buttock was visibly swollen, leaving her limping and lopsided.
"I'm not done with you! You hear me? I’ll kill you!" She tried to storm back, but a sharp wince of pain from her bruised hip sent her back to the ground.
The referee cleared his throat, looking at Ethan with a mixture of awe and pity for his future dating life. "Winner of the final round: Ethan Lyle. Score +10."
Total score: 150. The Grand Champion of Verdant City.
"That should get me into Sovereign Academy," Ethan muttered.
A host in black silk stockings and high heels, Vera Lu, hurried onto the stage, shoving a microphone into Ethan’s face. "Spectators! We have our champion! Ethan Lyle, the 886th Grand Trial winner! Ethan, any words for the fans?"
"No," Ethan said.
Vera blinked. "Uh... very stoic! Any thoughts on your victory? Anyone you want to thank?"
"The examiners," Ethan replied tonelessly. "For the bye-rounds."
"And... your parents?" Vera pressed, desperate for a soundbite.
"I’m an orphan."
Vera’s professional smile began to twitch. The interview was a train wreck. She pivoted frantically. "So! What is your greatest wish now that you’ve conquered Verdant City?"
"I want to enter Sovereign Academy."
The crowd murmured. Most only knew the prestigious Xia Imperial Academy. Sovereign Academy was a name whispered in elite circles—a place for monsters.
"Well, you're in luck!" Vera shouted, seizing the lifeline. "The Verdant City recruiter for Sovereign Academy, Serena Sutton, is here! Let’s hear from her!"
The camera panned to a woman in a deep teal dress. Serena Sutton was the definition of a mature beauty, her presence commanding and sophisticated.
"For those who don't know," Vera explained, "Sovereign Academy only takes the top 100 students nationwide. It is the elite of the elite. Ms. Sutton, our champion wants in. Will his wish come true?"
Serena Sutton looked Ethan up and down. Her expression wasn't one of admiration, but cold, clinical disappointment. She shook her head.
"Ethan Lyle," she said, her voice carrying across the silent arena. "I’ll be blunt. That's one wish that isn't going to happen."