A voice rang out, shaking the very air.
"STOP!"
Crown Prince Aelric's voice was filled with commanding authority, his Seeker Rank aura flaring to life.
And in an instant—
Ten golden swords and spears materialized around him, hovering in the air like celestial weapons summoned from the heavens themselves.
Then—
With a sharp movent of his hand, the blades launched forward, embedding themselves into the ground between Max and Arthur's mist form.
BOOM!
The impact created a barrier of golden light, an unbreakable divide that severed the battlefield, preventing Arthur's attack from advancing any further.
The mist halted abruptly, swirling in place as if struggling against the barrier—before it was forced to retract.
A second later, Arthur rematerialized, stepping back with a sharp glare, his expression filled with indignation.
Aelric's piercing gaze swept across the scene, his face grim.
"This is the Sun Palace, not a battlefield!"
His voice carried a warning, heavy and unshakable.
"If you wish to fight, take it elsewhere—but I will not allow unnecessary bloodshed here!"
The golden swords humd, their presence still lingering as a reminder of his authority.
For a mont—
There was silence.
Tension thick in the air, a battle halted at the very brink of explosion.
Arthur had halted, pulled back by Crown Prince Aelric's intervention, his mist form retreating behind the golden barrier.
But Max—
Max didn't stop.
Unlike Arthur, he did not hold back.
He had already decided the mont he threw those insults—this wasn't just provocation.
This was declaration.
His right fist clenched tightly, raw power surging through his veins as 30 Draconic Scales ignited inside him, flooding his arm with trendous force.
And then—
He punched forward.
Bang!
The mont his fist shot out, a storm of pure force erupted from the impact, a violent gust of wind bursting outward, carrying an overwhelming shockwave.
The golden swords and spears—weapons summoned by Crown Prince Aelric himself—were sent flying, torn from their positions as if they were re twigs in a hurricane.
But that wasn't all.
The storm did not stop there.
It surged past the barrier, reaching toward Arthur's mist form.
The violent force engulfed him instantly, forcing the mist to scatter wildly before it was sent hurling through the air.
A blur of gray vapor twisted violently, before Arthur was forced to return to his physical form, his body reappearing mid-air, barely able to halt himself.
But even as he stabilized—
The shock on his face was unmistakable.
The force of the windstorm didn't stop at Arthur.
The weaker geniuses from the South—those who had arrogantly stood behind him, basking in his power—were caught directly in the storm.
Their bodies were lifted off the ground, tossed like ragdolls as they were sent flying across the garden, crashing into tables, bushes, and fountains.
So landed headfirst into the flowerbeds, while others tumbled across the ground in stunned confusion.
Only then—
Only after everything had been blown away—
Did the storm of wind finally settle.
A deep silence followed.
A silence so heavy that it felt as though even the world itself was trying to process what had just happened.
Eyes widened.
Breaths held.
Because Max—
The masked figure.
He had thrown a punch at nothing.
He had simply punched the air—
And yet, it had generated enough force to:
Blow away Crown Prince Aelric's golden swords and spears.
Scatter Arthur's mist form mid-attack.
Send multiple South Region geniuses flying like they were weightless.
All without touching a single person.
The crowd of guests stared in awe.
The murmurs began almost imdiately.
"H-He didn't even hit anyone... and yet the impact alone caused that?"
"Those were the Crown Prince's weapons—yet they were blown away like paper?"
"Arthur's mist form was forced back... by nothing but wind?!"
"Who... Who the hell is this masked man?!"
Princess Aveline looked utterly stunned, her usual grace montarily shattered by the absurdity of what she had just witnessed.
Alice, who had already been shocked once, could only stare, her lips slightly parted feeling the masked figure very familiar.
Even Crown Prince Aelric, known for his calmness, found himself montarily speechless.
Arthur, still floating mid-air, stared down at the masked figure.
His hands tightened, his teeth clenched.
He wasn't just angry anymore.
He wasn't just annoyed by the insults.
He was shaken.
'What... What the hell was that?'
His mind raced, trying to comprehend the sheer power behind that one, simple punch.
"Haha, so you guys are indeed as weak as ants."
Max's laughter rang out behind the blue mask, thick with mockery and disdain.
His posture remained loose, completely unshaken by what had just transpired—as if everything was just as he expected.
"To get blown away by re wind from a punch… how disgraceful."
He shook his head, as if genuinely disappointed.
The words cut deep into the remaining mbers of the South Region's group, their pride already battered by the humiliation they had just suffered.
Arthur, still floating above the garden, stared down at the masked figure, his expression dark.
He had never expected this man to have such terrifying strength.
This wasn't just so nobody.
Whoever he was—he was soone dangerous.
And Arthur hated it.
"Didn't you hear when I told you to stop?"
Crown Prince Aelric's voice cut through the air, his irritation barely concealed.
His golden gaze bore into Max, his regal authority pressing down like a mountain, demanding obedience.
But Max?
He rely glanced over his shoulder, eting Aelric's intense gaze with nothing but calm indifference.
Then, he shrugged.
"Well, he attacked first."
His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he was explaining sothing completely obvious.
Then, with an almost casual gesture, he pointed at Arthur, who was still hovering in the air.
"So my attack was just a counter. However…"
He paused for dramatic effect.
Then, in a voice dripping with mock sincerity, he added:
"I do admit it was my fault for not being able to stop my attack midway. My control is just… too weak."
There was no remorse in his tone.
Only sarcasm.
A direct jab at Aelric's earlier command.
Aelric's frown deepened, his patience wearing thin.
The masked figure wasn't backing down.
Not even giving him an opening to take control of the situation.
Instead, he was pushing back, mocking him in front of the entire assembly.
It was a rare mont where soone dared to challenge the Crown Prince's authority so openly—and in his own palace, no less.
Before Aelric could respond, however—
A new voice cut through the tension.
"Aelric, if you don't mind, I'd like to take so action here."
A figure appeared before them, stepping into the center of the growing storm.
He was young, but his presence was undeniably commanding.
Dark green hair, spiked upward in unruly strands, gave him a wild, untad look.
His sharp, angular features were accentuated by the faint smirk on his lips, a smirk that carried undisguised amusent.
His attire was bold—dark clothes lined with streaks of erald, the crest of his clan subtly embroidered on his sleeve.
There was sothing rebellious about his stance, the way he carried himself—like a punk who didn't care about rules, only strength.
And yet—his arrival was t with instant recognition.
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