The battle for the peak of the Generation continued, and It was as fervorous and insane as any battle in the span of twenty years of this ceremony.
The fiery battle consumed the Energy of the dungeon.
The space between Kul-Kain Kulainn and Judai Scathach had become distorted, as if reality itself struggled to remain intact beneath the weight of their clash. Each collision sent pressure rippling through the artificial forest, bending trunks, shattering stone, and scattering clouds of dust and ether-infused mist.
Steel screamed against flesh-hardened aura.
Fist met blade.
Blade met bone.
Neither yielded.
Kul-Kain's boots dug deep into the cracked soil as he twisted his body mid-strike, narrowly avoiding a blow that would have crushed his ribcage. The wind displaced by Judai's punch tore through his cloak, ripping fabric like paper.
Judai exhaled sharply, eyes sharp and focused.
"You're slower when you hesitate."
Kul-Kain answered with a slash aimed at Judai's throat.
"And you're predictable when you talk."
Judai laughed—a short, breathless sound—ducking under the blade and driving his elbow toward Kul-Kain's side. The impact sent shockwaves through Kul-Kain's body, rattling his bones, but he did not fall.
Instead, he stepped forward.
For the first time since their clash began, Judai's expression shifted.
Barely.
But it did.
The golden aura surrounding Kul-Kain pulsed, fractured, and twisted—threads of violent violet coiling within it like veins beneath burning skin. The Ego surged unevenly, raw and unstable, yet undeniably there.
Judai's gaze flickered to it.
"So that's what you're relying on now," he muttered.
"Borrowed power."
Kul-Kain's grip tightened around his sword.
"No," he said, voice low.
"It's power I'm forcing to listen."
They collided again.
This time, Kul-Kain did not retreat.
His movements were sharper, more decisive. Each swing of his blade carried not just strength, but intent—an obsessive calculation etched into every angle and trajectory. His eyes followed Judai's body with terrifying focus, tracking minute shifts in posture, the tightening of muscles, the momentary redistribution of aura.
Judai noticed.
A punch grazed Kul-Kain's cheek, drawing blood—but Kul-Kain used the momentum, twisting his torso and driving the flat of his blade into Judai's shoulder.
Judai skidded back several meters.
Dust exploded.
"…Tch."
He rolled his shoulder, smiling faintly.
"You're reading me," he said.
"Since when did you get that good?"
Kul-Kain took a slow breath.
"Since I got tired of losing."
The battlefield trembled as Judai stepped forward again.
"Careful," Judai warned.
"Trying to catch up like that will tear you apart."
Kul-Kain raised his blade.
"Then stop running ahead."
Their next exchange was brutal.
Judai increased his output.
Not fully—
but noticeably.
Every blow now carried weight far beyond before. The difference in grade manifested brutally, as if invisible hands were pressing down on Kul-Kain's body, forcing him to endure pressure meant for someone far stronger.
A straight punch shattered the guard of Kul-Kain's sword, sending a shock through his arms that numbed his fingers.
Another strike followed—then another.
Kul-Kain was driven back, coughing blood, vision blurring.
His internal sense screamed warnings.
Life force dropping.
Muscular integrity failing.
Ego instability increasing.
Judai stepped closer.
"Still standing?" he asked.
"Impressive."
Kul-Kain wiped blood from his mouth.
"…I haven't fallen yet."
Judai frowned.
Then smiled wider.
"Good."
He struck again.
Kul-Kain flew through the air, crashing into a thick tree trunk. The impact split the bark clean in half, the trunk collapsing moments later.
Kul-Kain slid to the ground, breathing ragged.
His health had fallen dangerously low.
The world felt heavy.
Slow.
For a moment, everything blurred into noise.
This is it, he thought.
Again.
Then—
Memory.
The mental projection.
The Mind's Eye.
The impossible precision.
The flex of the dominant bicep.
The compression of aura.
The release.
Kul-Kain's fingers twitched.
I saw it, he realized.
I survived it.
He forced himself upright.
Judai stopped.
"…You're insane," he muttered.
"Anyone else would have stayed down."
Kul-Kain's eyes locked onto his.
"I'm not anyone else."
The Ego surged.
Violet light erupted violently, tearing through the remnants of gold like lightning through storm clouds. The pressure shifted again—deeper, heavier, more personal.
Outside the dungeon, the stands erupted.
"That's not aura—"
"—it's Ego!"
"But he hasn't—!"
The elders leaned forward.
The Patriarch's wife watched closely, fingers tapping lightly against her arm.
"Fascinating," she murmured.
"He's forcing the sequence."
Atlas Kulainn frowned.
"He's risking everything."
She chuckled.
"That's what makes it fun."
Inside the dungeon, Judai's instincts screamed.
For the first time—
He stepped back.
"…Interesting," he said quietly.
"So you really are different."
Judai inhaled deeply.
"Fine," he continued.
"No more holding back."
The pressure exploded.
Judai released more of his strength, aura roaring like a tempest. The air warped visibly around his body as he surged forward, striking with speed that bent perception itself.
Kul-Kain barely managed to block.
The impact sent him skidding backward, boots carving trenches into stone.
Their clash became chaos.
Flesh tore.
Metal rang.
Blood sprayed.
Judai's fists smashed into Kul-Kain's guard again and again, while Kul-Kain countered with vicious, precise cuts aimed at joints, tendons, vital points.
They were learning.
Copying.
Adapting.
If Judai adjusted his stance, Kul-Kain mirrored the principle with his blade.
If Kul-Kain changed tempo, Judai recalibrated his strikes.
A terrifying symmetry.
Elsewhere—
Laura Kulainn raised her staff.
Magic circles layered upon one another, equations rotating at impossible speeds.
"Mana distribution stable," she whispered calmly.
"Proceeding."
A storm of condensed spells erupted, erasing dozens of monsters in seconds.
Her expression never changed.
From the stands, Caius Kulainn smiled proudly.
Nearby, Elisa danced through her enemies, rapier flashing like silver fire.
"No wasted movement," she muttered.
"No wasted breath."
When their paths crossed again, sparks flew.
"You're reckless," Laura said coolly.
"And you're too careful," Elisa shot back.
"Let's see which of us survives longer."
Their clash drew attention—
But not as much as them.
Back with Kul-Kain and Judai—
The fight reached its apex.
Kul-Kain's vision sharpened unnaturally.
Judai's movements slowed—
not in speed, but in clarity.
He saw it.
The flex.
The compression.
The channel.
Kul-Kain mimicked it perfectly.
Aura surged into his blade.
Cross Over Slash.
The strike tore through Judai's defenses.
Blood spilled.
Judai collapsed.
Kul-Kain fell moments later.
Silence.
Twenty minutes passed.
Kul-Kain awoke.
Judai stood before him, chest bandaged, breathing heavily.
He extended a hand.
"…You've earned it."
Kul-Kain took it.
And the generation changed forever.
— To be continued —