A hush fell over the entire arena.
The signal rang out—sharp and piercing, echoing across the coliseum's towering walls.
Yet neither of them moved.
Kael stood still, shoulders relaxed, arms hanging by his sides. He didn't enter a stance. He didn't twitch. His expression was unreadable, as if he were observing—not his opponent—but something far off and unimportant.
Lucien Thorne, Crown Prince of the Empire, mirrored the stillness.
Silver hair swayed faintly in the breeze, and the runes around his sleeves pulsed with quiet energy. His sapphire eyes watched Kael with curiosity, not disdain—analyzing, waiting.
The crowd had expected an explosive start.
Instead, they were given silence.
Time dragged. Thirty seconds. A minute. Two. Murmurs started, then died almost immediately. No one dared disturb the pressure building between the two figures below.
Then—Lucien smiled, faint and cold.
"You're patient," he said, voice calm, measured. "I figured a martial artist would be more… straightforward."
Kael didn't reply at first.
Then, with the faintest smirk:
"Was hoping you'd get bored and slip up."
Lucien huffed softly. "Not bad."
More silence.
Then Kael tilted his head just slightly. "You nervous?"
"No," Lucien said. "Are you?"
"No."
Another pause.
"...Then shall we?"
Kael rolled his neck with a satisfying crack. "Sure."
The moment he finished speaking—they moved.
BOOM.
The floor cracked beneath their feet as they vanished from their starting positions. Shockwaves erupted in their wake.
Lucien reappeared mid-air, hand raised, chanting in an ancient tongue as six rings of pure azure light spun into existence around him. Each ring spun faster until they launched forward—spells condensed into white-hot darts of magic.
Kael was already beneath him, boots skidding along the arena floor as he surged forward with impossible speed. Aura rippled from his body in shimmering waves of deep silver, coating his arms and shoulders like armor forged from the void.
He didn't dodge.
He sliced the air.
A single chop, reinforced by aura, shattered three incoming spells on impact. The ground beneath him cratered from the force. The remaining bolts twisted to strike from behind—Lucien controlling them with minute gestures.
Kael spun on his heel, aura coiling along his back like a tail, and released a burst of energy in all directions. The trailing projectiles exploded in midair.
The audience was no longer murmuring.
They were frozen.
Gasps echoed across the seats. Even some professors stood now, eyes narrowed, watching the impossible unfold.
A first-year was cutting through Crown magic with brute force.
Lucien landed gracefully and immediately raised his hand. A circle of glyphs spiraled above him, growing brighter. A giant lance of ice formed midair, its surface jagged and pulsing with wind. He hurled it.
Kael crouched and launched himself upward, aura flaring like a comet around his body. His fist met the lance—and it exploded into a shower of frozen shards that scattered across the sky.
Lucien followed with a barrage—multiple elemental spells, each one complex, each one deadly. Fire twisted around chains of lightning. Stones sharpened into razor discs. Air compressed into invisible blades.
Kael didn't hesitate.
He met spell with strike. His aura condensed and bent, reshaping around his arms, legs, even fingertips—striking in bursts, redirecting attacks instead of blocking. His feet glided across the field, each movement precise. He didn't waste energy. He turned deadly magic into a dance of shadows and impact.
BOOM.
The two clashed at the center of the field. A shockwave rippled outward, slamming into the barrier that protected the crowd. Dust erupted. Wind screamed.
Selene gripped the edge of her seat. Her breath caught. She wasn't the only one.
Even among nobles and prodigies, this was different.
This wasn't a prince fighting a nobody.
This was a fight between monsters.
Lucien appeared behind Kael in a blink—teleportation magic flickering in a stream of sparks. He cast another spell mid-motion, trying to freeze Kael's legs.
Kael didn't even look back.
He stepped sideways—barely—as aura burst from his heel to crack the ground and break the freeze spell's casting.
He pivoted and struck with a palm aimed at Lucien's side.
Lucien gritted his teeth and brought up a shield just in time—only for Kael's blow to smash through the first layer and send him sliding back ten meters.
The audience gasped again.
Lucien narrowed his eyes. He wasn't smiling now.
"You really don't care who I am, do you?"
Kael brushed dust off his shirt. "Not really."
Lucien's expression twisted—into a grin this time, wide and wild.
"Then don't hold back."
"Wasn't planning to."
And then, they moved again.
Faster this time.
Magic and aura collided like thunder gods.
Spells laced with death arced through the air—barriers shattered—footing lost and reclaimed in mid-motion—Kael's body blurred with streaks of metallic light, aura wrapping around him like a second skin, while Lucien's robes danced in magical winds, glowing with burning runes that twisted space itself.
Their clashes weren't just physical or magical.
They were rhythm.
A cadence of power.
A heartbeat of war.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Every time they connected, the air cracked like glass. The arena's barrier flared brighter and brighter, pushed to its limits.
Professors exchanged glances—some in awe, others in disbelief.
"This is a first-year match?" one of them whispered.
"No," another murmured. "This is a warning. The world's changing."
Down below, the two fighters separated once more—chests rising, aura and mana crackling around them like storms barely held in check.
Their eyes met.
Neither smiled.
Neither taunted.
The fight was far from over.