He walked back to the center of the courtyard, where Viroas was already waiting. There was no sign of the Chief Priest or other heads of the temple.
The temple knight had removed his outer armor, standing now in lighter gear that would allow for better movent and energy flow.
They faced each other across perhaps twenty feet of open space. The crowd had gone quiet, anticipation thick in the air.
From a balcony overlooking the courtyard, three figures watched from the shadows. Myron stood with his arms crossed, his expression eager. Beside him, Aphyana’s beautiful face showed cold interest. And Elara watched with calculating eyes, already planning how to use whatever happened next.
They were silently watching him from afar, hoping that he would further escalate things and get in trouble.
In the courtyard below, Viroas was speaking. "Last chance to reconsider, Baron. Bow now, and we can avoid this confrontation."
Viroas was confident in his skills, and he was aware that Jolthar was in the sa tier as him. But unlike Jolthar, Viroas thought he had undergone special training under the temple masters. The temple’s knight school was completely different from the knight schools around the empire. They follow a strict and precisely controlled program for the candets and train them from a young age.
"No," Jolthar replied simply.
"So be it," Viroas sternly looked at Jolthar as he said.
Viroas closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened, they glowed with pale golden light.
"May the Deity King be the judge between us."
His aura erupted.
It was like a wave of divine energy made manifest—golden light that seed to push outward in all directions, carrying the weight of decades of devotion and training. The power was refined, controlled, channeled through religious discipline into sothing that felt more than rely personal. It was as if Viroas were borrowing strength from his faith itself.
The crowd gasped as the pressure rolled over them. Several people at the edge of the circle actually stepped back, unable to withstand even the periphery of his aura.
Viroas’s feet cracked the marble beneath him as he concentrated the power. His body seed to glow from within, and the air around him shimred with heat and energy.
"You see?" he said, his voice resonating with power.
"This is the strength granted to those who serve the divine faithfully. Can you match it with re mortal will?"
Jolthar smiled as he stepped forward.
Then his own aura answered.
It started as a ripple—barely noticeable at first, just a shift in the air around him. Then it intensified rapidly, building layer upon layer of pressure that pushed back against Viroas’s divine energy.
But Jolthar’s aura was different. Where Viroas’s was golden and refined, Jolthar’s was multifaceted—streaks of void black mixing with violet chaos energy and his own cultivated power. It was wild, untad, and dangerous in a way that divine discipline could never fully capture.
The green color energy of the Beast King threaded through everything, adding primal strength that spoke of ancient powers that existed before deities claid dominion over the world.
The two auras collided in the space between them, and the impact was visible—air distorting, creating waves of pressure that radiated outward.
The marble courtyard cracked. Fountains trembled, water sloshing over their edges. Trees at the periphery bent away from the conflicting energies.
Seeing that their duel was destroying everything, temple knights who were on standby quickly acted and pulled up a barrier to protect the people around them.
"Impossible," Viroas breathed, feeling the full force of Jolthar’s aura for the first ti.
"You’re just a simple tier 9 swordsman. How can you generate this much power?"
"You assu divinity is the only source of strength," Jolthar replied, his voice calm despite the trendous energy he was channeling.
"That’s your first mistake."
He pushed harder, and his aura surged forward like a tide. Viroas braced himself, channeling more divine energy to reinforce his defense. For a mont, they were evenly matched—two forces of will locked in invisible combat.
Then Viroas began to advance, step by step, pushing his aura forward.
"Lord Inadrys, grant strength!"
Golden light intensified around him. His aura concentrated into a spear-like formation, driving toward Jolthar with focused intent. The temple knight was calling on his deity’s power directly, channeling divine energy beyond his normal capacity.
Jolthar’s feet began to slide backward slightly, marble cracking beneath his heels as Viroas’s assault drove him back.
From the balcony, Myron leaned forward with interest.
"He’s losing ground."
"Wait," Elara said, her eyes sharp.
"Look at his expression."
Jolthar wasn’t showing strain or concern. Instead, he looked... amused.
"You’re strong," Jolthar acknowledged, his voice carrying over the clash of energies.
"Well-trained, disciplined, channeling power beyond yourself. Impressive."
He stopped sliding backward, planting his feet. "But you’re fighting with borrowed strength. Let show you what earned power looks like."
His aura exploded.
Not just intensified—exploded. The void-chaos-primal combination that had been his baseline suddenly tripled in density and force. Jolthar drew on reserves he’d been holding back, channeling energies he’d refined through actual combat with deities and deivruta.
The spear of Viroas’s divine aura shattered like glass against a hamr. The golden light was pushed back, compressed, overwheld by the sheer volu and intensity of Jolthar’s power.
Viroas’s eyes went wide. He channeled everything he had—every technique, every prayer, every ounce of divine blessing he could access. His aura blazed so brightly that people had to shield their eyes.
But it wasn’t enough.
Jolthar’s aura didn’t just match it. It devoured it. The void aspects consud the edges of Viroas’s power. The chaos elents disrupted its structure. And the Beast King Aura simply overpowered what remained through raw, primal strength.
"You dedicated your life to channeling divine energy," Jolthar said, taking a step forward. His aura advanced with him, an inexorable tide.
"I respect that dedication. But I’ve fought actual deities. I’ve wounded them, survived their attacks, and co out stronger. Your borrowed power can’t match that experience."
Viroas tried to hold his ground, veins standing out on his neck and forehead as he poured everything into resistance. The marble beneath his feet was pulverizing into dust from the pressure.
"I... won’t... yield!" Viroas gritted out.
"You already have," Jolthar replied.
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