The Golem Mage Chapter 907: The Most Durable Gordons 2

Chapter 907: The Most Durable Gordons 2.

“How…!” Kylian choked out, barely able to form the words.

He couldn’t understand how Brandon had erged from the tide of frozen blades without so much as a scratch, or even looking slightly flustered.

Even though Kylian had exhausted a large chunk of his mana from the previous battle, he had still poured everything he had left into that last attack. He’d expected it to at least rattle Brandon a little, but instead, the result crushed what remained of his confidence.

He tried to fight the feeling, but the weight of despair was slowly dragging him under.

“Simple,” Brandon replied calmly.

“I cast my Stone Skin spell alongside activating my Spirit Equipnt Set. So all the damage was absorbed externally by the stone skin spell, the few that pierced through were taken care of by my spirit armour, so here I am, completely unaffected by that little cold storm you threw my way.”

He paused, then added with a tilt of his head, “So, I wanted to ask—are you done now?”

Kylian’s mouth twitched, he wanted to shout, to curse Brandon for mocking him, especially after calling his move a ‘little cold storm’.

But the truth hit him harder than any insult could, he was outmatched.

He opened his mouth to surrender, but before the words could form, Brandon’s fist crashed into his gut, driving the air from his lungs.

His mouth hung open in shock as he gasped for breath.

“If that’s all from you,” Brandon said coldly, “then it’s my turn now.”

His fists moved with purpose—slow, heavy, and brutal—each strike pounding into Kylian’s face with a deep echo. One punch. Then another. Then three more. Five crushing blows, and then Brandon flung him aside like trash, his body tumbling across the ring.

Kylian groaned, his face contorted in agony. He could barely see or breathe, but still tried to raise a hand, to speak.

“I—” he wheezed, trying to surrender.

Another punch silenced him, this one directly to his face. His eyes swelled shut, and his lips puffed grotesquely, misshapen and cracked.

At that mont, Kylian no longer looked like a proud mage.

And for the first ti, Kylian genuinely began to question what was happening, he couldn’t fight back, no matter how simple Brandon’s punches looked, he couldn’t dodge or defend against them.

Deep down, he understood that Brandon was deliberately humiliating him for what he’d done to Agnes, however knowing that didn’t help; as long as he couldn’t surrender with his mouth, Brandon had every right to continue turning his face into a punching bag just to see how much more he could endure.

All traces of arrogance had left Kylian, his body lay sprawled across the battle ring, unmoving and completely unwilling to rise again.

Seeing this, Brandon turned his gaze toward the War God Mage Academy’s seating area, directing his attention specifically to Alec, who stood calmly with a blindfold on.

In that mont Alec gave a slight nod, as many observers on the Royal Mage Academy side realized sothing unsettling, despite the blindfold, Alec seed perfectly aware of what was happening, confirming that he might possess so form of mystical sight.

Receiving Alec’s approval, Brandon jumped down from the levitating cloud of sand beneath him, as he calmly walked over to Kylian, who was coughing up blood, and without any dramatic flair, he swung his leg back as if preparing to take a penalty shot.

Then, without hesitation, he launched his foot forward, slamming it straight into Kylian’s stomach.

His leg, coated in Qi energy, sent Kylian’s body flying across the stage with brutal force, the limp body crashed into the Royal Mage Academy’s seating area, smashing against a tal support pole with a muffled clang. Kylian lost consciousness before his body even touched the ground.

Silence fell over the Royal Mage Academy side, their mages stared at Brandon in a mix of shock and unease.

From start to finish, Brandon hadn’t needed any elaborate moves—just his body and resilience had been enough to endure a powerful mid-tier spell and dismantle Kylian.

Now, everyone was worried. If this was just one facet of his strength, what else was he hiding?

But amidst the tense atmosphere, only two mbers of the Royal Mage Academy team didn’t seem troubled at all.

Liam and Austin Tudor both believed they had what it took to take Brandon on, though they didn’t know the full extent of his powers, neither of them seed particularly concerned.

“The winner of this round goes to the War God Mage Academy. Royal Mage Academy, you have 60 seconds to send out your next participant,” the judge announced.

Austin stood up, ready to head toward the stage, but he was stopped by Asher Blaze, who casually extended an arm in front of him.

“Nah, this one’s mine,” Asher said confidently as he rose to his feet and began strolling toward the battle ring, with his hands still tucked in his pockets, he effortlessly leapt onto the stage.

“Let’s do this, Gordons boy,” he added, as his entire academy uniform suddenly ignited in flas. Luckily, his clothes had been designed to suit his abilities, though it looked like he was engulfed in fire, the flas were contained, helping him compress his energy instead of consuming him.

Tattoo-like markings began to erge, snaking across his skin as his body was soon clad in a complete spirit equipnt set, like Brandon’s, his was also a Tier 5 set, though he didn’t appear to wield any weapons.

With his transformation complete, Asher bent slightly into a predatory stance, eyes locked onto Brandon.

On the other side, Brandon opened his arms slightly as the cloud of sand behind him spread across the arena, a ten-ter-wide patch of quicksand ford beneath him, placing him at its center, he reached back, gripping his two wrapped weapons again just as the judge raised his hand.

“Begin!” the mage announced.

Boom!

The mont the words were spoken, Asher shot into motion.

In an instant, flas erupted from his back, acting like thrusters as he vanished from sight, he sacrificed mana efficiency for explosive speed, far surpassing his normal pace.

In the blink of an eye, he appeared right in front of Brandon.

High in the air, Asher raised his right leg and struck down, but his kick was t by Brandon’s crossed weapons, forming a solid block, despite successfully defending, the sheer force of the impact caused Brandon to slide backward several steps.

As Asher landed, he didn’t hesitate, he followed up imdiately with a twisting kick, slamming his leg once more against Brandon’s guard. Again, Brandon was forced back.

“What are you, a turtle? You’re too damn passive,” Asher taunted, his frustration surfacing.

This ti, he launched a flaming punch, his right hand ignited as he activated his Flaming Fist spell.

Unlike the usual projection of fla that flew out towards the target , his own flaming fist was compressed and fused directly into his clenched fist that was scorching red.

With a shout, he drove it forward toward Brandon, who again raised his arm guards to block.

Boom!

A loud explosion echoed through the arena as Brandon was sent flying, but he flipped mid-air and landed steadily, showing no visible signs of injury or fatigue, his expression remained unchanged—calm, unreadable.

Asher hesitated for the first ti, watching Brandon more carefully, that’s when he noticed it, four glowing rings revolving around Brandon’s hand guards, three glowed with fiery energy, but the first one shimred with an icy light.

Sothing about it made Asher uneasy.

“Hey, one more hit,” Brandon said casually, stepping forward and bringing his weapons together.

The cloth-wrapped saber and sword began to rge, forming a large, imposing great sword that radiated the rged auras of the Saber of Slaughter and the Sword of Tranquility.

“You know, I’ve never been that good with sabers or straight swords,” Brandon said with a grin as he rested the heavy blade on his shoulder. “But great swords? That’s my thing.”

He stretched out his left hand, palm facing upward, and gestured for Asher to co at him.