Aegon's crimson eyes widened in shock.
'He blocked it…?'
It was impossible… it was meant to be impossible to block the First style for someone at his level.
Celestial Descent — the First Style of Royal Swordsmanship wasn't a move any normal opponent could defend against.
It was sharp, heavy, and precise, honed through years of disciplined training and relentless repetition.
A downward slash that could cleave even the most troublesome foes in half, that was how his father had taught it to him.
By engulfing the blade in aura and channeling everything into one powerful downward slash, you would be able to overpower your opponent without any waste of time.
Aegon himself had spent countless sleepless nights perfecting its form, channeling aura to sharpen its deadly edge.
And yet — Azel had stopped it.
Effortlessly.
Worse, he hadn't even used a sliver of aura.
The force of the clash reverberated in Aegon's arms, forcing him back.
His boots scraped across the training ground as he skidded several meters before finally digging his heel in and stopping.
His grip trembled faintly against the hilt of his sword.
He didn't know why but this Commoner… he didn't feel like anybody Aegon could defeat.
Across from him, Azel stood calmly, his blade leveled at his side.
His breathing was steady, as if he was unbothered.
"If that's really all you can muster," Azel's voice rang clear, cutting through the tense silence, "then you won't be able to beat me."
Gasps rippled through the audience at the sheer confidence in his tone.
Aegon gritted his teeth, heat rising in his chest.
'Mocking me? In front of everyone?'
The fear that he had earlier dissolved into nothingness.
He steadied himself, aura flaring bright crimson around his body like fire.
But before he could act — Azel moved.
It was instant.
A blur.
By the time anyone blinked, Azel had closed the distance.
His body felt light.
Weightless even.
The training under doubled gravity paid off — his muscles coiled like steel springs, and now, unleashed under normal conditions, he felt faster than ever.
If he continued training with gravity, he would be able to achieve even faster levels of speed so he couldn't wait to master 3x Gravity.
Steel clashed with steel again as Aegon barely raised his sword to block.
Sparks flew.
The prince's eyes narrowed, surprise flashing before giving way to defiance.
His aura surged violently.
"Third Style — Absolute Movement!"
And then they vanished.
To the audience, it was as if two streaks of light exploded across the courtyard — one crimson, one blue.
Their blades clashed in rapid succession, echoes of steel ringing in the air, too fast for most to follow.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Mira's sharp eyes tracked every exchange, her lips curling upward slightly.
"He's amazing," she murmured.
Their spar yesterday wasn't like this, well mostly because they weren't trying to kill each other but still… was he holding back that much against her?
The Emperor leaned forward, intrigued. "I'm amazed, he's countering each style head on effortlessly."
Normally, a sword style fueled by aura should overpower a simple, unaided strike.
It was a fundamental truth of combat: technique plus aura always triumphed over raw, unrefined skill.
But Azel's movements — precise, efficient, honed under crushing gravity defied that truth.
He met Aegon's relentless slashes with flawless parries, his sword dancing in his hands as though the weight of the duel meant nothing.
Aegon's frustration mounted. Every time his blade should have landed, it was caught.
Every time he struck, Azel was there, reading him like an open book.
"Damn you!" the prince roared, leaping backward and into the air.
A flash of crimson aura exploded around him.
"Second Style — Celestial Ascent!"
If the first style was bringing the sword down in an absolute descent, then the second style was the opposite.
His sword gleamed brighter than ever as he swung upward, unleashing a devastating vertical arc.
Aura condensed along its edge and erupted skyward in a radiant crimson slash — a pillar of raw power surging toward the heavens.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
Even the marble beneath Aegon cracked from the sheer force of the move.
But Azel had already moved.
A flicker of blue light streaked across the field.
The crimson beam cleaved harmlessly into the sky, dissipating in a shower of energy as Azel sidestepped cleanly, his movements impossibly fluid.
The clash ended with Aegon crashing down to the ground, his blade digging into the dirt to steady himself.
His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping down his brow, aura visibly flickering from exhaustion.
Across from him, Azel stood upright, calm and untouched, his blade casually resting at his side.
"Oh? Already tired?" Azel's voice cut through the air with a teasing lilt, irritatingly casual.
Aegon's face twisted with fury.
The mocking tone hit him harder than any strike could.
"You—!" His scream ripped through the courtyard, his aura flaring outward violently, a storm of crimson energy whipping around him.
"AZEL!"
The ground beneath his feet cracked under the force of his power.
From the stands, Naelia's hands clutched tightly at her dress.
"Azel…" she whispered, worry and awe mingling in her tone, it was suicidal to anger the First prince like that but she trusted that he would win.
The Emperor leaned back in his seat, a glint of amusement sparking in his eyes.
"Good," he murmured. "Show me what you're truly capable of, boy."
Mira's grip on her sword tightened slightly, her eyes flicking between the two combatants.
It was clear that the battle would end in the next move.
[Author's Note]
From the next chapter the book will be locked, Thank you for reading so far and I hope you can continue supporting this book.