The roar of the crowd was deafening as I stepped into the Grand Arena for the semifinals. This match wasn't just about advancing to the finals—it was about proving that I belonged here, that I was more than just some unknown village kid.
And my opponent?
Darian Voss.
A noble from a prestigious bloodline, skilled in swordsmanship, arrogant, and eager to put me in my place. From the moment we met, he had been waiting for this match just as much as I had.
I could feel his gaze burning into me as we stood at opposite ends of the battlefield.
The tension between us was thick, nearly suffocating.
The entire Academy had been anticipating this fight.
Let's not disappoint them.
A Battle of Wills
The proctor stepped forward, his voice cutting through the arena noise.
"This is the first match of the semifinals! Sylas of Aldermist vs. Darian Voss of House Voss!"
The crowd erupted.
Darian smirked, rolling his shoulders. His silver sword gleamed under the sunlight, his stance calm and effortless, the mark of years of refined training.
"I hope you don't take this personally," he said, flexing his fingers. "But I plan to end this quickly."
I smirked back. "Funny. I was thinking the same thing."
The proctor raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Speed vs. Precision
Darian moved first, closing the distance between us in a blur of silver.
His blade shot forward with practiced precision, a quick thrust aimed for my ribs.
I twisted away, sidestepping just as his sword grazed my tunic. Before he could recover, I countered with a sharp dagger strike, aiming for his shoulder.
But he was fast.
He spun, narrowly avoiding my blade, then immediately followed up with a horizontal slash meant to take me out in one clean motion.
I barely managed to duck, the wind from his strike brushing past my hair.
The crowd gasped, sensing how close that had been.
Darian grinned. "You've got good instincts. But instincts won't save you forever."
He launched a flurry of rapid strikes, each one calculated, each one faster than the last. His swordplay was near perfect—sharp, controlled, refined.
I dodged and deflected as best I could, but his relentless offense forced me back, my feet skidding against the arena floor.
I need to break his rhythm.
I faked a retreat—then suddenly stepped into his attack.
Darian's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by my sudden aggression.
I deflected his sword upward, forcing his arm back—then I slammed my elbow into his jaw.
The impact sent him staggering backward, his grip on his sword loosening for just a second.
A second was all I needed.
I closed in fast, dagger flashing—
But before I could land my strike, he vanished.
The Noble's Hidden Power
In the blink of an eye, Darian reappeared behind me, his sword swinging toward my back.
I barely twisted in time, bringing my dagger up to block—
CRACK!
The sheer force of his strike sent me flying across the battlefield. I skidded across the stone floor, my ribs aching from the impact.
I gasped, struggling to breathe.
What… the hell was that?
Darian casually rolled his shoulders, spinning his sword once before pointing it at me.
"Did you really think I didn't have a few tricks of my own?"
That speed—it wasn't natural.
I had seen fast opponents before, but Darian had moved in a way that shouldn't have been possible.
The realization hit me.
He's using mana-enhanced footwork.
Unlike brute force techniques, this was an evasive art—a skill exclusive to the Voss bloodline, allowing them to move so quickly that they seemed to disappear for an instant.
No wonder he was arrogant.
He had been holding back.
But now?
Now I knew his secret.
Countering the Unseen
Darian rushed me again, disappearing just before he struck.
But this time, I was ready.
I closed my eyes for just a fraction of a second—ignoring what my sight was telling me and instead focusing on my other senses.
The moment his mana pulsed—his presence shifted—I reacted.
I pivoted sharply, dagger swinging.
The crowd gasped as Darian reappeared in my strike's path, his eyes widening in shock.
He twisted, barely dodging, but my blade nicked his cheek, drawing the first blood of the match.
A thin red line formed against his skin.
The entire arena fell silent.
Darian lifted his fingers to his cheek, staring at the blood as if he couldn't believe it.
I smirked. "Not so fast after all."
His golden eyes darkened.
And then, for the first time since the fight began, his smirk vanished.
The Voss Bloodline's True Strength
Darian exhaled sharply.
"Fine," he muttered. "No more holding back."
Suddenly, the air around him changed.
A powerful golden aura flared to life, wrapping around him like a second skin. His blade glowed with raw mana, the very air trembling from its energy.
The Voss family's true technique.
His stance lowered, and I felt a primal sense of danger crawl up my spine.
The moment he moved, I barely saw it.
One second, he was standing there.
The next?
His blade was an inch from my throat.
I barely raised my dagger in time, the sheer force of his strike sending shockwaves rippling through the arena floor.
My arms screamed in pain, but I couldn't afford to falter.
I twisted, barely dodging, but Darian was relentless now—his sword flashing like lightning, each strike carrying enough force to break bones if I wasn't careful.
The fight had reached its final phase.
And there was only one way to end it.
Breaking the Noble's Pride
I let him press the attack, dodging and weaving, waiting for my perfect opening.
He thought he had control of the fight.
But he didn't realize he was walking into my trap.
As he swung for my chest, I feigned a last-second dodge, making it seem like I had barely evaded—then I suddenly shifted my momentum and stepped forward.
His eyes widened.
I had let him commit to his attack.
And in that instant, he was off-balance.
I slammed my knee into his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs.
Then, as he staggered, I struck him clean across the jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.
The arena fell into stunned silence.
Darian groaned, gripping his sword—but I kicked it away, pressing my dagger to his throat.
He looked up at me, anger and disbelief swirling in his eyes.
I smirked. "Looks like this 'village boy' just beat you."
The proctor raised his hand.
"Winner—Sylas!"
The arena exploded into cheers, the noise shaking the very walls of the Grand Arena.
I stepped back, offering my hand to Darian.
For a moment, he just stared at it.
Then, begrudgingly, he took it.
As I pulled him to his feet, he muttered, "You got lucky."
I grinned. "Keep telling yourself that."
With Darian defeated, there was only one opponent left.
And as I turned toward the stands, I saw Kieran Valen watching me with those eerie golden eyes, waiting.
The final match was set.
And I had a feeling it would be my hardest fight yet.