Chapter 31: The Lesson
The roar of the crowd swelled as Ethan stepped onto the packed arena floor.
From the opposite gate, Max and Alex strode in together, weapons in hand, their faces carved into smug grins.
Shouts echoed from the stands, a mix of mockery and encouragement:
"Teach that arrogant E-rank his place!"
"Show him what a real C-rank can do!"
"Don't you dare lose to a rookie — it'll be a disgrace!"
"Break him, Max! Smash him, Alex!"
Others muttered more cautiously, eyes narrowing at Ethan's calm stride, "...Something's off about that one."
Max's jaw was set, his eyes burning with the fury of week of humiliation. Every insult, every whisper behind his back, every bit of respect stripped away — all because of him. Today, that debt would be paid in full.
Beside him, Alex's grip tightened around his spear. For him, this wasn't just about pride. No, this was personal.
If not for Ethan, his authority in the party wouldn't have crumbled. If not for Ethan, Lirael wouldn't have looked at him with anything less than admiration. And now… now she was slipping away.
Ethan's mind was elsewhere. Longsword Mastery — fixed at 99%. He rolled the thought around in his head as he slid the blade from its sheath, the faint rasp of steel echoing in the charged silence. Let's see if fighting humans pushes it past the limit.
He lowered his center of gravity and raised his weapon into a clean, balanced stance.
Max let out a loud, mocking laugh.
"Well, well… look who finally brought a toy to play with. Didn't you used to wave around those pathetic magic arrows, muttering 'doable' like some half-wit?" He raised his sword with a flourish, smirking. "What's this? You think just swinging a stick like a mutt chasing its tail makes you a swordsman? If that's your plan, I'll be happy to educate you."
Alex chuckled darkly at his side, lowering the point of his spear toward Ethan.
"And when I'm done with you, you'll be on your knees begging for mercy. My Lirael—" he tilted his head toward her in the stands "—will have nowhere else to go but back to me. She'll cling to me like the god I am."
Lirael's fists clenched at her sides, knuckles whitening. Anger flashed across her face, but Alex only grinned wider.
"Mmh… even prettier when she's angry. I'll enjoy breaking that spirit of yours."
Ethan said nothing — his gaze steady, his breathing controlled. Without a word, he shifted into an unmistakably offensive stance, the tip of his blade aimed directly at them.
Wolf's voice rang out over the arena, slicing through the tension.
"—Combatants, prepare yourselves. The match begins… now."
The match exploded into motion.
Max bolted forward with terrifying speed, a living blur charging across the arena. In less than a heartbeat, he was right in front of Ethan, his sword thrusting violently toward the younger man's chest.
Ethan's body moved on instinct — sidestepping smoothly to Max's right, his boots scraping the dirt. Without hesitation, he countered with a sweeping roundhouse kick aimed at Max's ribs.
Max twisted sharply, just barely evading the strike. The momentum carried him past Ethan's flank, but before he could recover, Alex appeared like a shadow sliding in.
With a wide, menacing arc, Alex swung his spear toward Ethan's head.
Ethan raised his longsword just in time, the metal ringing as it clashed against the spear's haft. He shifted back a full step, creating space between himself and the twin threats.
Max sneered, voice dripping with scorn.
"Is that all you've got? Just dodging and blocking?"
Alex chimed in, smirking. "Come on, show us some fight, 'swordsman'. Or are you just a magic-wielding coward?"
Ethan said nothing.
Then — in a blink — he vanished from sight.
Max and Alex froze, eyes darting wildly, uncertainty flashing across their faces.
A sharp twang split the air. A crackling blue Magic Arrow streaked toward Max.
Max barely brought up his sword in time, blocking it with a resonating clang.
But before he could catch his breath, his eyes widened in shock.
There — mid-air — Ethan was already closing the distance, delivering a brutal kick squarely into Alex's abdomen.
Alex's body bent backward into a perfect U-shape, blood and saliva spraying from his open mouth as he flew several feet before crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.
Max staggered, his mind racing. What the hell?
Isn't he supposed to be just a strength type? His plan had been simple — exploit Ethan's supposed lack of speed. But that display shattered everything.
Didn't I hear his strength just emerged last week?
How can he be this fast and this strong?
His thoughts darkened. Wait... is he like me? Weak constitution, but compensating with raw power and speed?
If that's true, then how did that kick hit so hard without him crumbling?
His shock froze him in place.
Before he could react, Ethan was already in front of him again, the longsword slicing diagonally in a vicious arc.
Max raised his sword to block, steel ringing against steel — but then came the sharp, sickening crack.
"Argh..."
His wrist gave way.
A grim smile crept across Ethan's face.
"What's this? A single blow, and your body's already breaking?"
The crowd erupted into laughter at the jab.
Ethan's voice rang clear, cold and cutting:
"I don't think you'll last long enough to satisfy the women you keep bragging about."
"Y-you bastard!"
Enraged, Max clenched his teeth, fury flashing in his eyes.
From a short distance away, Alex struggled to rise, hacking up blood, his breath ragged and uneven.
Lirael's eyes widened as she watched the men who had tormented her and the others falter under Ethan's assault. Relief washed over her like a cool breeze — the unbearable pressure and cruelty finally breaking. Yet beneath that relief, a knot tightened deep in her chest.
They're weak... barely holding on, she thought, voice silent inside her. But… what about me?
Her gaze flickered to Ethan, standing firm and steady — strong, unyielding. The kind of strength she knew she didn't possess.
A pang of sadness stung her heart.
If I can't match that strength, if I'm too weak to stand beside him… what hope do I have?
The crushing thought hovered like a shadow, mingling uneasily with her relief.
Beside her, Maya's face was tight with tension, her brow furrowed deeply. She clenched her fists, biting back frustration. She knew the torment Max and Alex had dealt them all too well. Seeing them falter sparked a quiet vindication — but also a fierce resolve to never be so vulnerable again.
Aina's eyes flicked between the battlefield and the fallen men, her expression cold and unreadable. There was no relief in her gaze, only the calculation of what this meant for the future. No mercy, no second chances — just survival.
Standing just beyond the edge of the fight, the B-ranked adventurers watched with keen interest. Brad's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"That kid's growth rate… it's something else," Brad said low, his voice carrying respect even amid the roar of the crowd. "Even among Awakeners, I've rarely seen progress like this."
One of the other B-ranked swordsmen shifted, glancing at Ethan's blade. "Oi, take a look at that sword—don't you think it… almost looks like it's got an aura?"
The more indifferent swordsman, who had been barely paying attention moments before, suddenly snapped his head toward the fight. "Huh. You're right. There's something unusual about it. Not just craftsmanship—like it's waiting to awaken."
Brad nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think all he needs is a real fight to make it manifest. But those rough edges in his movements? It's clear he's been training alone, without a master. That's raw talent right there."
The others exchanged glances, their interest sharpening as they refocused on the battle unfolding.