87– Battle Between Mortals [5] – Kaleb Hale vs Fengjin Xiao
The arena was trembling with anticipation. Thousands of eyes were fixed on the two figures about to clash—Kaleb Hale, the undisputed strongest performer among the young generation, and Fengjin Xiao, the silver-haired prodigy who had claimed second place time and again.
Whispers rippled through the crowd:
"Finally… Hale versus Xiao."
"This will decide who's the true number one."
"Kaleb is a monster, but Fengjin's no less."
The stadium lights blazed as Fengjin stepped forward first. His blue eyes glowed like polished sapphires under the sun, framed by his medium-length white hair that danced with the breeze. His handsome face betrayed no emotion, only calm determination. Every step he took toward the center of the battle platform resonated like a declaration.
Kaleb Hale followed. His towering presence carried the weight of a predator ready to tear apart anyone who stood in his way. His lean yet heavily muscled frame moved with controlled confidence. Even without speaking, Kaleb exuded dominance.
The moment both set foot on the ground, the alarm blared—signaling the start of the duel.
No words. No hesitation. Just war.
Kaleb didn't wait. In a flash, his bloodline transformation ignited—crimson veins crackled under his skin,his hair turned into fire, his pupils slit into predator-like shapes, and a faint crimson aura bled out of him. His presence spiked, like a volcano ready to erupt.
As Fengjin's aura surged, the markings across his arms flared brighter, icy blue light racing through his veins like rivers of frozen fire. His silver hair lifted as though caught in an unseen current, and then—
a pair of wings burst out from his back.
Then they collided.
The air cracked from the impact of their first blows. Kaleb's fist met Fengjin's forearm block, sending a shockwave rippling across the arena. Dust and pebbles rattled, and the ground beneath their feet cracked instantly.
Kaleb followed with a brutal roundhouse kick aimed at Fengjin's ribs. Fengjin absorbed it and spun low, sweeping Kaleb's leg. Kaleb leapt, avoiding the sweep, and countered mid-air with a downward axe kick. Fengjin crossed his arms, blocking the blow, but the sheer force drove him into the ground, leaving a crater.
The crowd roared.
Kaleb pressed the attack—punches like cannon fire, each one threatening to split bones. Fengjin, though, was ice itself—calm, fluid, precise. He weaved, deflected, and countered with sharp, jabs and kicks laced with chilling aura. Every strike left mist trails in the air.
Kaleb snarled. He drove his elbow into Fengjin's stomach, only for Fengjin to twist, letting the hit graze him, before slamming his palm against Kaleb's chest. A burst of frost spread across Kaleb's torso, slowing his movements.
But Kaleb didn't stop. He shattered the frost with sheer force, roaring as his crimson aura flared brighter. Blood dripped from his knuckles, his lips, but he looked more alive than ever.
The fight turned ruthless. No finesse now—just raw savagery. Kaleb's fists pummeled, Fengjin's legs snapped out like whips, and the arena floor cracked and cratered with each clash.
Minutes passed, though for the crowd it felt like seconds. Blow for blow, wound for wound.
But at last—Kaleb broke through.
His final strike was a brutal hook to Fengjin's jaw, followed by a knee straight to the gut. Fengjin's body bent, lifted off the ground, and he crashed down with a thud that silenced the cheers for a moment.
The referee declared it.
Winner: Kaleb Hale.
Kaleb stood there, chest heaving, blood running from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it off with the back of his hand, spitting red on the floor. His long breaths fogged the air as he turned. His eyes scanned the crowd of teachers .
And then… they locked onto one figure.
Sam.
Sam sat above with the other instructors, his coat draped casually around his shoulders, his expression unreadable. That sight alone lit a fire inside Kaleb. His jaw clenched, his veins throbbed.
In a voice dripping with rebellion, Kaleb shouted across the arena:
"Sam lee! What are you doing up there, sitting with them, as if you belong? Just wearing a coat doesn't make you a noble!"
Gasps erupted among the crowd. The Hale clan's proudest youth was openly challenging the authority of someone sitting among the teachers.
"Kaleb!" Verina Hale's voice cut sharp, a command laced with authority. "Stand down. This is not your place."
But Sam raised a hand, calm, almost amused.
"No, Master. Let me hear the little red bird chirp. He's been chirping for far too long."
The words stung Kaleb like a blade. His rebellion had always been brewing. Ever since he was young, he believed himself the rightful leader of the Hale clan. Yet he was always excluded from the great meetings, from true authority. And Sam—around his age—was already trusted, already granted power.
Today's victory against Fengjin was supposed to prove something. But seeing Sam above only poured oil on the fire.
Kaleb roared, stepping forward. His aura flared violently.
Sam dropped down from the high platform in a single effortless leap, landing before Kaleb without even a stir of dust. His coat barely shifted.
He looked Kaleb in the eyes, and in a calm voice said:
"I'll give you one chance. If you can touch me within three seconds after my first strike, I'll abandon all my authority today."
The arena fell silent. Everyone's breath caught.
Kaleb's fists clenched, his teeth grinding. Rage burned in his eyes.
And then Sam moved.
In a blur, he struck once. A flick of his arm, almost lazy, but faster than lightning.
The blow smashed into Kaleb's chest with a thunderous crack. Kaleb's body flew backward like a ragdoll, skidding across the floor, crashing into the arena wall. Blood sprayed from his mouth as his body slumped. He tried to stand, his trembling arms pressing against the ground—
But he couldn't.
His vision blackened, and he collapsed, unconscious.
The crowd erupted, half in awe, half in fear.
Sam didn't even glance back. Without a word, he turned and walked calmly toward his spaceship docked outside the arena. The hatch opened as if recognizing its master. Sam stepped inside, the metallic hiss of the doors closing sealing the silence behind him.
And just like that—he was gone.
The echoes of rebellion, crushed in a single strike, still lingered in the air.