Radahn, who had borne the brunt of Lucia's imposing, golden-red aura head-on, let out a low grunt. The profound, surging magic power coiling within his massive torso churned violently, mapping the kinetic frequency of the pressure to withstand it instantly. His iron boots didn't yield a single centiter of turf.
His heavy brow furrowed, his dark eyes staring fixedly at Lucia's fra, which was completely insulated within a pale, shimring layer of divine grace. He was montarily taken aback by the calculation.
"Golden Vow" was categorized as an exceptionally advanced, high-tier matrix within the Golden Tree Incantations. While its execution multiplied the caster's physical voltage and structural defense by a massive premium, its biological threshold was notoriously high. Across the empire's logs, the spell required decades of absolute, devout faith in the Erdtree's design or the weathered marrow of a legendary crusade veteran to manifest.
Based on his archival lessons regarding Leyndell's military distribution, even among the elite Rodel Knights directly anchoring the Inner Palace guard, only operators who had climbed to the rank of Knight Commander possessed the Faith stats to trigger the seal. As for the Dragon Knights—who were rumored to balance both ancient draconic and Erdtree miracles—due to their baseline allegiance to the Faith of Farum Azula, less than one in ten could successfully channel the Golden Vow.
How long had this silver-haired youth been pulling oxygen within the capital walls? Could his genetic processing truly be so logic-breaking that, in a handful of moons, he could ignore the administrative barriers of faith and political faction, mastering a supre Erdtree miracle to such a degree of raw, flawless maturity?
But the paraters had locked; the countdown had hit zero, leaving no remaining window for archival contemplation.
Miquella was bankrupt of divine power, and the explicit declaration to conform his na into the mightiest demigod in this world had erged directly from his own mouth. Lucia had hand-delivered a tangible, undeniable demonstration of the Golden lineage. With Radahn's blunt, highly principled warlord character, he possessed zero logical currency to decline the Dragon Prince's challenge.
Answering the line, his voice bood across the adow. "In that configuration... I command you, Lucia, to represent the administrative interest of Leyndell and execute this cross of steel against my mass. If my blades claim the structural victory, the previous ledger proceeds exactly as my teacher outlined. Conversely... my siblings and my own shield shall remain within the capital gates, conforming our schedules to attend the Royal Private School by your shoulder."
He cast a sharp glance across the high platform. "Does any operator in this venue register an objection to the ledger?"
Monitoring the absolute resolution pinning Radahn's chest, and anchoring a massive confidence in the boy's physical trics, Knight Moongrum delivered a silent nod of compliance. Rykard and Ranni exchanged a swift look, choosing to throw the weight of their respective houses behind their elder brother's choice.
On the opposite flank, Crucible Commander Ordovis recognized that this martial substitution was the solitary viable buffer remaining on the field. He let out a soft, historic sigh, stepping through the grass to close the distance to Lucia's flank. His ancient features bore an expression of sincere, profound earnestness. "Across the paraters of today's gridlock, this old servant genuinely lacks a better administrative counter-move. Since Your Highness Lucia has resolved to lunge your mass into the breach, I petition you to fight with the absolute maximum threshold of your voltage. Regardless of how the ledger scores the final outco... this old fra shall ensure your physical safety clears the field, and my vanguard shall permanently rember the moral debt you have hand-delivered to the Golden Dynasty."
Lucia monitored the ancient paladin, whose skin carried the signatures of over seventy winters. This comprised only their secondary interaction since his outriders had cleared the capital periter.
During their initial encounter outside the city walls, the old knight's deferential courtesy had been nothing more than a sterile piece of courtly rhetoric directed at the legal heir of Farum Azula. If his engine had held even a minor fraction of regard for Lucia's existence, it was strictly a byproduct of tracking how completely Lansseax had centered her own sovereign orbit around the youth's fra.
Subsequently, though reports had cleared Ordovis's desk stating that Lucia had awakened the Dragon Bloodline Inheritance, the youth was, in the final accounting, the first demigod born to the Ancient Dragon Dynasty in ten centuries. Given the imnse, blood-soaked experience of the Crucible Chief, it would have been an administrative failure if the Prince hadn't displayed a striking level of genetic talent.
Yet here, at the absolute point of tactical crisis—with His Majesty Radagon inexplicably driven from the field, facing a Prince Radahn who had been forged by the absolute maximum economic output of the Carian Royal Court—this young dragon, whom the old guard had systematically overlooked, had not rely cleared his leather; he was radiating a physical mass that didn't yield a single volt to his opponent. The reality forced Ordovis to completely re-calibrate his evaluation of the Empyrean, hand-delivering a genuine, heartfelt respect across his salute.
Lucia offered a faint, relaxed smile, his silver locks tossing in the wind. "Commander Ordovis... your vocabulary carries too heavy a gravity for a simple trial."
He turned his visor toward the parallel tables on the right flank, tracking Miquella, whose pale face was a map of silent apology, before his eyes locked onto Malenia's small, terror-knotted features. Suddenly, a strange, preternatural lightness welled up from the basents of his core. Every calculation, every tactical simulation, and every modern cheat-code alignnt he had spent the morning weaving was instantly cast into the gale. The millisecond his engine realized that the Carian Delegation's true offensive vector wasn't a political conquest over Radagon, but a biological violation of these twin siblings... the math had ceased to matter.
Scanning the clearing to verify that the board was clear of structural objections, Radahn pinned his dark pupils to Lucia's face, his voice snapping like a whip. "Does the line launch?"
"The line launches," Lucia whispered.
Cra-crack—
The millisecond the syllables cleared his teeth, a violent, screaming atmospheric displacent ripped across the granite platform. Radahn's massive, broad-shouldered fra detonated from the turf like an explosion of dark red magma. A terrifying, straightforward kinetic strike launched from his hip, accompanied by a primitive, thunderous roar that hurtled directly at Lucia's skull!
Thud!
Lucia crossed his forearms horizontally before his throat, locking his bones to absorb the strike. A dense, shimring sh of fine, silver-white dragon scales instantly rippled across his skin, liquidating the titanic kinetic mass of the blow amidst a muffled, thunderous shockwave that cracked the floorboards.
He permitted the velocity to throw his fra backward across the air. Mid-flight, four magnificent, moonbeam-like silver-white wings violently unfurled from his spine, beating the atmosphere once to execute a flawless, balanced drop onto the wide stone plaza below the platform tiers.
Across the gap, Radahn executed a massive bound from the high ledge, arcing through the twilight before his iron boots crashed into the flagstones directly in front of the Prince.
Their visors locked. Radahn reached down to his hips, smoothly un-sheathing a pair of massive, monolithic greatswords shaped like brutal iron cleavers. Lucia's gauntlet mirrored the velocity, drawing the ancestral Dragon-Scale Blade from his back. The two demigods simultaneously stomped the stone, their explosive acceleration colliding in the absolute center of the plaza like two hyper-velocity teors. The primary cross of their armants instantly detonated a blinding shower of fiery, silver blossoms across the clearing!
Radahn deployed the elite Carian Sword Arts hand-delivered to his muscle mory by Knight Moongrum. This swordsmanship philosophy, engineered within the western spires of Liurnia, prioritized an absolute flexibility and an instantaneous tactical adaptation above all traditional styles, pioneering the complex integration of heavy blade-work and glintstone sorcery.
Despite his colossal, massive physical fra, the red-haired prince moved with the agile, weightless grace of an astrological phantom. The two cleaver-shaped greatswords—which already bore an permanent, terrifying resemblance to the future Starscourge Greatswords of his warlord zenith—were wielded into a swirling, non-stop do of dark, shimring light. As the heavy steel danced through the watch, brilliant flashes of pale blue radiance occasionally cut through the wind, throwing out wide, curved crescent arcs of pure Glintstone Sword Energy. Whenever these sorcerous waves struck the peripheral masonry, oak pillars, or boulder markers, the stone was instantly cleaved in two, leaving behind mirror-smooth, crystallized cut surfaces.
Facing an offensive of that level of ferocity, Lucia exhibited zero inclination to conform his stance to a defensive periter. Instead, he answered the line with an even more ferocious, violent, and bloodthirsty offense!
The Storm Swordsmanship he had practiced across his nightly simulation watches was never celebrated for its defensive properties among the continent's three premier martial legacies. True to its ancestral code, the absolute essence of the style rested upon an explosive, storm-like kinetic payload.
Whether within the archives of the long-vanished Storm Dynasty or the high rafters of Farum Azula, the absolute majority of Storm Knights systematically favored dual-wielding configurations to push their offensive statistics to the absolute maximum. Compared to the steady, rock-like, shield-anchored attrition trics popular among the Rodel Knights, the sky-born paladins preferred to replace defense entirely with overwhelming, absolute violence—crushing whatever enemy crossed their vector into dust in the tightest possible tifra!
The imnse feedback bonus from the Golden Vow functioned like high-octane oil poured directly onto the furnace of his Dragon King's Body. Lucia could feel the primordial draconic vitality within his core churning like a raging inferno inside a forge. The indestructible material properties of the dragon-scale alloy were pushed to their absolute physics limit. One sweeping Storm Slash after another, wreathed in screaming vacuum wind blades, cleaved through the magical crescent energy Radahn sent his way mid-air, before pressing back into the boy's space with an increasingly suffocating, absolute weight—physically forcing the Carian champion to retreat step by step across the flagstones!
Among the onlookers gathered a thousand paces back along the grassy ridges, both the Carian Royal Knights and the Golden vanguards monitored the exchange with absolute, breathless shock.
Every warrior in those lines, having survived the selection matrices to serve as personal guard sentinels protecting the demigod bloodlines, comprised an outstanding apex champion among their peers. Yet, witnessing these two young demigods execute their respective, most familiar martial heritages to such a terrifying depth of mastery, the veteran knights were left completely dumbfounded where they stood.
A peerless, logic-breaking talent derived directly from divine bloodlines, a supre physical ceiling bestowed by the cosmic Order, coupled with a near-eternal biological lifespan—this was the precise alchemical equation that birthed a Demigod, a terrifying tier of existence that transcended mortal trics. Even during their green, adolescent cycles, their systems possessed a raw combat voltage that countered ordinary heroes. Once their fras reached absolute maturity, they completely overrode the boundaries of mortal biology; only the absolute mightiest, world-class heroes could barely maintain a line against their advance.
However, a brief tactical disadvantage ant zero to Radahn, who had drilled his muscles through non-stop martial arts for years. During his cycles of study under Knight Moongrum's gaze, even when the First Knight systematically suppressed his personal power levels to match the boy's exact stats for a sparring match, the veteran's consummate, master-level combat skills would routinely batter Radahn into a sorry, blood-soaked state.
Through those winters of rigorous, exhausting tempering, what Radahn had harvested wasn't rely a combat voltage that outclassed his peers; his soul had forged an increasingly resilient, rock-steady combat will when locked against an apex foe.
Now, reading Lucia's formidable physical strength—an energy that seed to slightly override his own mass in a direct, head-on collision—Radahn registered zero fear. His heart was seized by the raw, primitive thrill of an apex hunter unearthing a worthy prey across the stones!
He executed a sweeping cross-slash, throwing out two dense arcs of glintstone energy to violently create a five-pace operational distance, before forcefully expelling every drop of oxygen from his lungs. With his next massive inhalation—drawn in like a great sea whale sucking in a torrent of water—the flow of kinetic energy within his fra transford completely. A massive, tidal wave of internal magic power rapidly surged from his core into his limbs, saturating his muscles. The raw aura radiating from his entire being intensified severalfold in a solitary heartbeat.
Facing Lucia's relentless, ferocious storm assault that followed his heels without a microsecond of lag, Radahn stomped his iron boot into the flagstone, raising a visible shockwave of rippling air across the clearing. Simultaneously, he swung both heavy cleavers upward in a reverse, explosive arc from his hip, bringing the combined mass of his steel down with terrifying velocity directly upon the dragon scale blade slashing towards his neck!
CRANG—
Under the fierce, cataclysmic clash of two trendous physical forces, Lucia—who had previously held the absolute upper hand in raw power trics—felt his boots lose their tracking, his fra actually forced back across the stones by the sheer mass of the blow!
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