The sound of the sword and axe colliding was like the roar of thunder, filling the place with violence, while stormy winds spread from the intensity of the shock between "Aris" and "Skar," and dust rose like a whirlwind wrapping around the battlefield.
All the students watching the live broadcast felt a surge of excitement, and their shouts began to rise in overwhelming enthusiasm:
"Aris! Defeat him!"
"Show him who's at the top!"
"You can do it!"
Their heartbeats quickened, and a wave of adrenaline rushed through their veins as if they themselves were fighting the battle, not just spectators behind a screen.
In the arena, "Aris" and "Skar" clashed with terrifying power.
"Skar" tried to take the advantage, exploiting his massive size and immense physical strength, along with his solid footing on the ground like an unshakable mountain—
unlike "Aris," whose lighter build and unstable stance after his previous injuries should have made him weaker.
But to everyone's surprise, "Skar" felt as if he were striking an iron wall; he couldn't gain any advantage, and at the same time, "Aris" couldn't find an opening to break his balance.
The collision lasted only a few seconds before both stepped back, fragments of scorched stone scattering under their feet.
"Hela," who saw this, whispered in a sharp tone that hid her worry:
"His physical strength… it didn't weaken." She had expected Aris to waver due to his unstable stance.
A look of seriousness covered "Skar's" face, while "Aris's" face was devoid of emotion, like an ice statue in the middle of hell.
"Skar" said coldly, his eyes glowing:
"Aris… you're strong, but this will be your end."
The temperature of his axe suddenly rose, igniting with brilliant golden flames that lit up the entire arena.
This was the Royal Lyth Family's art — Flame of the Nine Suns,
the technique that elevated his family to the pinnacle of the world.
Every emperor who ascends the throne from this bloodline is known as the "Knight of the Nine Stars."
This art allows them to form a burning sun-shaped star fueled by celestial energy, raising the heat of their flames to a level that defies logic.
Now, "Skar" was merging this art with his golden flame — the hottest in the world… a scene intense enough to make the air itself crack.
"Aris" looked at him without moving, golden mana threads glowing in his eyes, intertwining around "Skar's" body like a restraining web.
To him, all he had to do was cut those threads… and anything his opponent did afterward would be meaningless.
"Do you really think you'll defeat me with that little spark of yours?" Aris said with a deadly smirk. "It's only good enough to be a campfire on a cold night."
Rage flared in "Skar's" eyes, veins bulging on his forehead, and he charged toward "Aris" like a wild beast.
He raised his axe high, and golden flames gathered around it until it looked like he was holding a sun in his hands.
"First Form: Descent of the Royal Lion!"
He roared thunderously and swung with all his might!
But "Aris" didn't use any skill — he merely coated his sword in a dense layer of darkness and blocked the attack at the very instant he severed the golden mana threads.
The golden flame shattered upon impact, sparks flying and burning the air with the scent of molten iron.
"Skar's" eyes widened in shock —
he couldn't believe his attack had failed for the first time!
But "Aris" gave him no time to recover.
He moved his sword with astonishing speed, spinning lightly as "Skar" lunged forward from his own momentum, then lifted his blade, aiming to cleave him in half.
At that moment, "Skar" realized the danger.
Regret and terror filled him when he saw the coldness of death in "Aris's" eyes.
He tried to shift his stance to avoid the strike, but "Aris" smiled faintly — a cold smile that deepened "Skar's" confusion.
The sword suddenly stopped mid-swing, and Aris's right leg shot out like thunder, slamming into "Skar's" ribs with bone-crushing force.
Everyone heard the sharp crack!
"Skar" dropped to one knee, leaning on his axe with difficulty, blood streaming from his mouth, staining the scorched ground and filling the air with the scent of iron and ash.
"Loki" trembled as he watched, whispering in fear:
"He's fighting with cold blood… this isn't just a duel — it's a real fight against a professional."
But "Aris" didn't stop. He vanished from sight like he had evaporated, reappearing behind "Skar" midair,
his sword gleaming under the sunlight like a celestial blade delivering final judgment.
"Skar" rose for one last desperate stand, swinging his axe,
and their blades collided once more — exploding in golden and black sparks,
the air itself trembling from their power.
This time, the balance clearly tilted toward "Aris."
"Skar's" injuries made his body falter, yet he gathered what little strength remained,
bending his knees to launch forward and push "Aris" back.
"Aris" staggered a few steps, dust swirling around him,
and in the next instant, "Skar" unleashed a devastating strike, his axe boiling with golden flames that nearly burned the air itself.
Seeing this, "Aris" swiftly shifted his stance into a defensive form,
coating his blade in thick darkness to block the blow.
BOOM!
A violent explosion shook the arena, dust rising once more.
"Aris" stepped back slightly, the heat of the flame scorching his skin.
"Skar" tried to attack again, but "Aris" was faster.
He moved with incredible agility and struck with a sudden thrust, forcing "Skar" to change direction at the last second.
This time, "Skar" had learned from his mistake — he knew a fraction of a second could mean death.
They exchanged blows at lightning speed,
their movements like dancing shadows within the flames and smoke.
Both bore multiple wounds, but the thrill and madness of the fight dulled their pain.
They stepped back slightly, eyes locking —
the gaze of two warriors knowing this next exchange would decide the end.
"Second Form: Roar of the Royal Lion!"
"Skar" shouted, unleashing his axe in a massive attack.
A wave of golden flame burst forth in the shape of a roaring lion's head, powerful enough to tear the sky apart.
"Aris" gathered his dark mana into his sword and muttered in a low, chilling voice:
"Zero Point."
That attack — the one that had once struck the Demon King "Intaris" —
was reborn once more.
Aris moved in a straight, blinding line,
cutting through the golden mana threads,
dispersing "Skar's" attack as if it had never existed,
then pierced through him and passed by in an instant.
The two stood back-to-back, silence filling the arena,
the air heavy with the scent of smoke and hot blood.
"Skar" spoke faintly before collapsing to the ground:
"I… lost."
Then he fell unconscious, his axe clattering beside him, blood tracing a red line across the cracked earth.
"Aris" remained standing, still as stone,
his eyes fixed on the horizon — as if seeing something far beyond anyone's sight.
Despite the towering wall before him, nothing stopped him from looking toward the peak… his eternal goal.
But as he drifted into thought,
his sword began to emit a faint cracking sound.
Cracks spread along the blade until it slowly shattered into tiny fragments that fell to the ground,
ringing with a sorrowful metallic chime — as if mourning the end of a great battle.
After a few moments of silence, while the medical team tended to "Skar" and carried him to the hospital, Aris turned toward him calmly, though he was unconscious.
In a low voice filled with quiet respect, he said:
"I enjoyed it… I haven't had a fight like this in a long time."
A faint smile appeared on his face — not mocking, but echoing a distant longing for true combat.
He looked down at the broken sword hilt still in his hand, the air thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and iron.
He stared at it for a long moment before murmuring softly:
"I'll keep you… a memory of a battle never to be forgotten."
Clenching the hilt tightly, he walked slowly out of the arena.
His footsteps echoed lightly on the metallic floor, while dust swirled behind him under the flickering arena lights.
Every eye followed him in stunned silence — some wide with awe, others holding their breath.
Suddenly, his voice echoed from afar, calm yet commanding:
"Professor Mei… since I've become the head of Class Aine, please transfer the academy points to me."
Then silence filled the place once more as his voice faded into the darkness of the long corridor.
He walked with steady steps, the cold air brushing past him as if the shadows themselves made way.
He didn't need more battles now; the strongest opponent had fallen. The others — perhaps Selina and Zenitha — might be near Skar's level, but they wouldn't interest him for now.
What he needed wasn't another duel, but to stabilize his foundation, understand his strength, and refine the raw desire that had ignited within him.
He smiled faintly and whispered to himself as he exited through the back gate:
"Iron against iron… that's a real fight."
The echo of his footsteps slowly faded away, leaving behind the scent of blood, sweat, and smoke — and an atmosphere heavy with awe and reverence.