Kiron's speed was indeed comndable. Within the Elite Camp, his strength hovered solidly in the middle tier; he could hold his own against talented fighters like Aldo or the Jero brothers.
But unfortunately for him, he ran into Loya.
Long before his fist could reach its mark, the howling wind generated by his strike had already ruffled Loya's hair. Faced with Kiron's fierce assault, Loya's expression remained as calm as a frozen lake. He slowly raised his hand.
"Well… I knew sothing like this would happen."
SLAP!
A crisp, sharp sound echoed through the courtyard. Kiron's rushing body seed to hit an invisible "pause" button, leaving him frozen stiff in front of Loya.
The veterans were left agape, staring in horror at Kiron's face, which had turned a vibrant, inflad red. Five distinct, clear finger marks were branded onto his cheek, standing out starkly against his pale skin. Aldo and the Jero brothers also stared in shock at Loya, who was calmly retracting his hand. mories of the morning's battle flashed through their minds, making them shudder: Back then… I don't think Loya was just holding back.
And they were right. During the morning spar, Loya hadn't used even 40% of his physical strength, let alone his Dragon Slayer Magic. Now that his "Dragon Body" had matured further, the amplification to his physique was staggering. Even he, the system holder, was startled by the sheer magnitude of that power.
If he were to master the Marine Six Styles now, he could crush the "greatest genius in 800 years," Rob Lucci, without even using a single spell—let alone these naless extras. This was exactly why Loya felt a headache after the morning match: in the current Elite Camp, there really weren't many energy points left to be harvested!
"You…"
Kiron was too stunned by the violent counterattack to react imdiately. It took a mont for his brain to catch up. He looked up, his eyes widening in shock and rage. "You… you bastard!!! I'll…"
SLAP!
Before Kiron could finish his generic villainous threat, Loya slapped him again. Was there no originality in trash talk? Loya, an avid reader of online literature, had no interest in wasting ti repeating clichés—that wouldn't help him score higher on an exam.
Loya didn't pull his punch this ti. For soone who wouldn't stop yapping, it was better to just shut them up permanently.
Under the collective gaze of the veterans, Kiron vanished, flying backward faster than he had ever moved with Soru. A thunderous BOOM echoed as he smashed into the base of the periter wall, creating a massive crater. Hard stone tiles from the courtyard were blasted into the air like shrapnel, falling back down like rain once the montum died out.
In the center of the crater, Kiron lay unconscious, his right cheek swollen to a grotesque size. His face was a mask of blood and gri, and a few teeth had unceremoniously rattled out of his mouth. He was breathing shallowly, barely clinging to consciousness.
Loya clapped his hands together and brushed the non-existent dust off his clothes. "Aie~ that was close. Luckily, I held back a bit…"
"Hey! Hey, Loya! You didn't kill him, did you?!" Aldo asked, looking at Loya with genuine concern. "Teacher Zephyr will definitely punish you if he cos back! Killing a comrade will get you sent straight to Impel Down!"
The veterans were no longer in the mood to watch a show. Hearing Aldo's words, a group of them jumped into the crater to rescue Kiron, while others drew their weapons, pointing them at Loya.
This reaction actually made Loya take note. He could tell from Aldo's tone that Kiron and Minde were likely detestable bullies who were widely unpopular. Yet, even though they had been beaten to the brink of death, the other veterans didn't show a hint of schadenfreude. On the contrary, the hatred in their eyes was unmistakable.
Loya recalled a quote: "Weaklings always like to huddle together for warmth."
From a raw strength perspective, this batch of Elite Camp recruits certainly wasn't as monstrous as the legends of the past, but the "monsters" of the past were never this united. Loya couldn't decide which was better.
Aldo stood anxiously before Loya. His words were stern, but his body was positioned slightly sideways—a deliberate move to stand between the angry veterans and Loya. From behind, it looked like Aldo was preparing to stop Loya from fleeing, but from Loya's perspective, Aldo was shielding him, helping him hold off the veterans.
Loya felt a warmth in his heart. He patted Aldo's… thigh, and comforted him, "Relax! Did you forget I slapped him twice? The first was testing his durability; the second was calculated at the limit of his capacity. He's definitely not dead. Trust ."
Aldo shook his head, refusing to move an inch, and signaled frantically at Loya with his eyes.
Sigh… talking to smart people is efficient, but talking to idiots is just exhausting. Loya sighed internally, but the usual impatience was replaced by a strange sense of tolerance.
WHOOSH!
At that mont, Hansa, the Chief of the Elite Camp, used Soru to flicker over, startling Aldo so much he nearly swiped at him. Hansa coughed lightly and said to Aldo, "It's fine. Kiron is just unconscious. He has severe external injuries, but his life is not in danger."
"Oh… is that so!" Aldo scratched the back of his head in embarrassnt. He had genuinely thought Kiron was dead and was ready to help Loya escape. Now that he knew Kiron was safe, the relief of not having betrayed a comrade washed over him, and he giggled like a one-ton child. "That's good… everyone being alive makes dinner taste better. Hehe."
"What a fool." Loya muttered, looking away.
When Zephyr returned, he was surprised to find the courtyard much emptier. The three new recruits were gone, and the famous "hooligan duo" of the Elite Camp was also missing. He found it a bit puzzling, but it had happened before—perhaps they had gone back early. He adjusted his mood and asked in a deep voice, "Well, have you decided on the order? The first one, follow !"
With that, Zephyr turned and walked straight into the pavilion without looking back.
Loya, who had been busy gnawing on a bone Aldo had filched from the kitchen, quickly finished off the remaining at, wiped the grease from his mouth, and stood up.
"Well then, I'll take the first spot. I assu no one has any objections?"
The veterans remained silent, turning their eyes toward the gaunt, sickly-looking Bibb Hansa sitting on the corridor floor. In the past, the guidance order was always led by Hansa, without question. But today's situation left them uncertain.
Feeling the gaze of everyone on him, Hansa opened his eyes. A surge of inexplicable fighting spirit erupted from him, but he suppressed it almost instantly. He looked at Loya, who was tilting his head, waiting for an answer, and nodded calmly. "Please!"
Hiss…
The veterans collectively gasped.
Could it be that even Hansa isn't confident he can defeat that guy?! Otherwise, knowing Hansa's ruthless and combative nature, he would never have handed over that position.
In the Elite Camp, the "rankings" weren't posted on any wall; they were simply the order of entry for Zephyr's individual guidance—a tacit rule kept by generations. Hansa's word "Please!" ant he was handing over his title as Chief. From today on, Loya was the new Chief of the Elite Camp!
Loya was slightly surprised by Hansa's decisiveness. He could sll a foul, bloody stench emanating from Hansa—this guy was no saint. Still, Loya was not arrogant, just filled with confidence. He nodded to Hansa in thanks and turned to enter the pavilion.
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