"Is that all you’ve got?" Lena called out, her voice filled with a mix of challenge and determination.
Marcus grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitent.
"Not even close!" he replied, launching a powerful overhead strike.
Wuu! Wuu!
The wind howled around him as he brought his sword down, the force of the blow sending a shockwave through the arena.
Lena quickly raised her sword to deflect the strike, channeling her energy into a counter, and the resulting clash sent both knights stumbling back. They regained their footing, breathing heavily but undeterred.
With renewed vigor, Marcus and Lena exchanged a flurry of blows, their swords weaving a tapestry of movent and sound. The wind swirled around them, a visible manifestation of their powers, creating a dance of air and steel that captivated the audience.
As the match continued, both knights began to show signs of fatigue, their movents slowing slightly but their determination unwavering. They were both aware that this battle was not just about strength; it was about strategy, skill, and the mastery of the Law of Wind.
In a final push, they both summoned their energy for one last attack. Marcus spun on his heel, channeling the wind into a powerful cyclone that surged toward Lena.
"Let’s finish this!" he shouted, his voice filled with excitent.
At the sa ti, Lena gathered her own strength, summoning a concentrated blast of wind that surged toward Marcus. "I’m ready!" she exclaid.
The two forces collided in the center of the arena, creating a massive explosion of air and light. The crowd gasped as the arena filled with swirling winds, the sheer power of their abilities shaking the ground beneath them.
When the dust finally settled, both knights stood at opposite ends of the arena, their swords lowered but their gazes locked in mutual respect. They were both panting heavily, clearly exhausted but exhilarated by the intensity of their duel.
Balrog stepped forward, raising his hand to signal the end of the match. "That’s enough!" he declared, his voice resonating through the arena.
The rest of the cadets erupted in applause, acknowledging the skill and determination displayed by both Marcus and Lena.
As they caught their breath, they exchanged a nod of respect, both knowing they had pushed each other to their limits. It was a hard-fought battle that had ended in a draw, but the true victory was in the growth they had achieved through their duel.
The cadets understood their teacher’s intention; this mock battle was not just a test of their skills but also an opportunity for growth. Through these encounters, they could learn about each other’s abilities, ensuring that if they were to form a group later on, they would be able to collaborate seamlessly without any difficulties.
For so reason, Balrog, whose face had remained neutral until now, couldn’t help but grin, his expression shifting as he thought about the next match.
"Next participants, please step forward," he ordered, and both Nero and Barak took their places on the stage. The arena, specially constructed with auto-repair runes, could self-repair even after sustaining significant damage.
’’Go forth and teach him a lesson he will not forget.’’ Adam cheered for Nero’s win, while Elreth smiled in his direction, as if to say you better not disappoint , Azalea simply crossed her arms. Nero observed all of this in silence, moving to choose a weapon.
Both n chose swords as their weapons, fitting since the House of Raizen was renowned for its swordsmanship, although he wasn’t mber of the family, the weapon he was most comfortable with is the sword, Nero swing his wooden sword a few tis to get the right feel to it, he was getting accustod to it.
’’Start!"
When Balrog signaled the start of the match, they didn’t imdiately engage in combat. Instead, Nero calmly observed Barak, a grin spreading across his face.
"You couldn’t stop yourself, could you?" Barak began, addressing Nero, who didn’t bother to respond.
"You could have quietly lived in a remote corner of the continent, but no, you had to co here and ss things up. You must have a death wish, you worthless being!"
Seeing Nero remain silent again only fueled Barak’s anger. He grinned, feeling that if Nero had responded, he would have been disappointed. Of course, the harsh words he had just unleashed were not spoken aloud.
"You will die just like that bitch you called your mother," Barak decided to unleash his trump card.
Balrog frowned upon hearing Barak’s words; he disliked such dirty tricks but chose not to intervene, opting instead to observe Nero’s reaction.
As soon as Barak uttered those words, he felt the atmosphere around Nero shift. He had expected an explosion of rage, but to his surprise, Nero simply smiled—a simple smile that sent a chill down Barak’s spine, causing him to involuntarily take a step back.
"You lot are so predictable. Trying to provoke by insulting my mother, are you? Well, I will make you regret it."
In an instant, Nero launched himself forward, swinging his sword downward with such speed that it almost caught Barak off guard. He barely managed to block the blow, but the force was overwhelming.
"Guh!" One of Barak’s knees sank into the ground, the sheer power of the strike forcing him down.
"Fuck, he’s a monster," Barak remarked inwardly, his heart racing as he realized the true strength of his opponent.
Barak rolled backward, using the montum to spring back to his feet. With determination etched on his face, he launched a series of rapid sword strikes, each one executed with the precision and fluidity characteristic of Raizen’s renowned swordsmanship. His blade danced through the air, aiming for all parts of Nero’s body, each attack ant to overwhelm and incapacitate.
Nero, however, remained calm amidst the flurry of strikes. With an air of confidence, he t each of Barak’s attacks head-on, his own sword moving like an extension of his will. He deftly parried and countered, his movents deliberate and focused, as he absorbed the onslaught with a composed deanor that frustrated Barak further.
"Is that all you’ve got?" Nero taunted, his voice steady as he sidestepped a particularly aggressive thrust, allowing the blade to skim past him. The wind from the near miss rustled his hair, but he stood firm, his red eyes locked on Barak’s every move.
’Let’s toy with him.’ Nero grinned, he would completely crush him.
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