Einar's confusion lingered for only a brief moment before it slowly twisted into a smirk, the kind that came from years of battle-hardened arrogance, as he adjusted his grip on the massive blade resting in his hands, its sheer weight bending the air faintly while his eyes locked onto the comparatively small, almost unimpressive weapon in Ashan's grasp.
"How amusing," he said, voice low yet filled with ridicule, the corners of his lips curling upward as his draconic pupils narrowed slightly.
"You truly believe that you can keep up with this, a blade that has torn through monsters, split armored beasts, and carved enchanted steel like butter… with that.. thing?"
He tilted his head slightly, mockery deepening.
"Or is this simply another way of insulting me?"
Ashan didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he raised the Inverted Spear of Heaven slightly, his fingers sliding along its edge with a slow, deliberate calm that felt strangely out of place amidst the suffocating tension, as if the weapon itself carried a presence that demanded acknowledgment rather than explanation.
"A mere dagger…?" Ashan repeated, almost softly, before letting out a quiet breath that resembled a laugh more than a response. "Careful… say that again, and I might actually cut your tongue out just to correct you."
His gaze lifted—steady, unfazed.
"You don't even begin to understand what this is."
Something about that tone made Einar's smirk falter for a fraction of a second, curiosity piercing through his irritation as his stance shifted ever so slightly.
"…Then go on," he said, interest now laced beneath his voice. "I do enjoy learning about rare weapons before I break them."
Ashan's lips curved faintly.
"Curious, huh…?"
Without warning, he swung the spear downward—not toward Einar, but through empty air, yet the motion itself seemed to carry weight, as if the very space it cut through resisted for a fleeting instant.
"This weapon is called the 'Inverted Spear of Heaven'," he said, voice steady, resonating across the arena as if the name alone carried significance beyond the present moment.
"It's not just strong… it's absolute."
Einar's eyes narrowed slightly.
Ashan continued, stepping forward slowly.
"The strongest wielder this weapon had before me… was a man named Fushiguro Toji."
A pause.
Einar frowned faintly.
"…Never heard of him."
Ashan let out a small laugh, one that carried a strange sense of nostalgia, like he was holding onto something no one else here could even begin to comprehend.
"Of course you haven't," he said. "He doesn't belong to this world."
His eyes sharpened.
"But he used this weapon… to kill the impossible."
Silence.
Even the distant spectators leaned in.
"He cut through infinity itself… and reached the skull of the Honored One."
Silence followed.
A brief, uncomfortable silence where even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Einar's brows furrowed deeper.
'Honored one? Infinity? What nonsense is he spouting?'
"…Right," Ashan waved a hand dismissively. "No need to think too deeply about that."
And then,
He stepped forward.
The air shifted.
"What matters," Ashan said, his voice sharpening ever so slightly, "is this.. this weapon cancels out anything tied to mana. Skills, spells, techniques… anything." A pause. Then, colder, "And it ignores durability altogether."
Einar's pupils shrank.
"…Wait. What?"
Even though Ashan hadn't raised his voice, those words carried far beyond their immediate clash. Silas and Garrick, standing at a distance with senses honed beyond ordinary limits, stiffened almost simultaneously.
"What did he just say?" Garrick muttered, disbelief creeping in.
"A weapon… that cancels all techniques?" Silas whispered, eyes narrowing.
Back on the battlefield,
Ashan lowered his stance, angling his body like a coiled spring ready to launch.
"If you manage to defeat me," he added casually, "I'll give it to you as your prize."
A faint tilt of his head.
"How's that? Feeling motivated?"
A pause.
"Then… shall we continue?"
Einar didn't reply.
Words had already lost their place the moment the air between them tightened, the invisible pressure of killing intent coiling like a storm about to break. Instead, he slowly shifted his stance, both hands tightening around the hilt of his massive blade, muscles drawing taut as his gaze locked onto Ashan with sharpened focus.
"We will see about that."
The ground beneath his feet cracked, and in the next instant, he exploded forward.
Einar moved like a wild beast unchained, his enormous sword sweeping outward in a merciless arc, the motion so heavy and fast that it tore through the air with a shriek, as though the space itself was being dragged along by its edge. There was no restraint in that strike—only raw, overwhelming force meant to erase anything in its path.
Ashan didn't retreat.
He stepped in.
Meeting it head-on.
The Inverted Spear of Heaven rested lightly in one hand, its size deceptively small against the monstrous blade descending upon him,
the moment the two weapons collided,
KREEEEEEEK…!
A violent metallic scream erupted.
Sparks burst into existence, scattering in all directions like fragments of burning stars, while the impact alone sent a visible ripple through the air, the ground beneath them fracturing in jagged lines as the force bled downward.
Einar didn't pause.
Without even turning his body fully, he redirected the momentum of his swing, dragging the blade across in a circular arc meant to tear through Ashan's flank in a single motion.
Ashan reacted instantly.
His body shifted with unnatural fluidity, pivoting just enough to avoid the edge while raising the spear to intercept, the clash ringing out again—sharp, heavy, relentless.
Einar's strength surged.
He roared, twisting his torso mid-motion and bringing the blade down in a vertical execution strike, the sheer weight behind it enough to split stone and bone alike.
Ashan stepped aside.
Not hurried.
Not strained.
Precise.
The massive blade carved into the earth beside him with a deafening crash,
and in that opening, Ashan's spear flickered.
A quick thrust.
Clean. Direct.
The tip struck Einar's arm, piercing into the scaled surface, but only barely.
The resistance was immediate.
Draconic durability held firm.
Ashan withdrew without hesitation, his instincts already reading the incoming retaliation.
"You're skilled with weapons," Einar growled, wings flaring wide as he surged forward again, his sword blurring into a horizontal sweep that howled through the air.
Ashan dropped low.
The blade passed just above him as he rolled beneath it, rising behind Einar in one seamless motion, already mid-attack as the spear traced an upward arc, aiming for the back of the knee.
It connected.
Not deep.
But enough.
A thin line of red surfaced.
Einar's eyes widened for the briefest moment.
'It… cut through?'
He spun violently, his heel grinding against the fractured ground as his free hand clenched, draconic mana gathering into his fist with a dense, crackling intensity.
Then,
He punched.
The air shattered.
Ashan met it head-on, the shaft of the spear intercepting the blow and redirecting its force downward,
BOOM…!
The earth erupted.
Stone and dirt blasted upward as a crater formed beneath them, debris scattering across the battlefield.
Ashan didn't give him time to recover.
He pressed forward.
A chain of thrusts followed, rapid, precise, merciless, each strike targeting a vital point, each movement flowing into the next with suffocating pressure.
Einar raised his blade, teeth gritting as he invoked,
[Dense Layer]
Mana surged across his body, forming a hardened coating that reinforced his muscles and skin, turning him into a living fortress as he blocked, parried, endured,
but something was wrong.
Each clash rang out like thunder.
Each impact hurt more than it should.
His defenses… were breaking.
The spear didn't collide with mana.
It erased it.
Cracks formed.
Invisible, but undeniable.
Sweat beaded along Einar's brow as realization struck.
'This thing… it's cutting through my mana like nothing!'
A roar tore from his throat as he forced his body forward, raising his blade high above his head, every ounce of strength pouring into a single, devastating overhead strike, one that could split mountains.
Ashan slipped aside at the last moment.
The blade crashed down, missing him by inches, the impact sending another shockwave ripping through the ground, and Ashan countered instantly.
A spinning slash.
Clean.
Precise.
A deep gash tore across Einar's chest.
Blood sprayed into the air.
Pain flared, but it only fed the fire.
Einar's expression twisted, rage overtaking reason as he gathered wind mana beneath his feet and burst forward.
The distance between them vanished in an instant.
Their weapons collided again, locking together as Einar leaned in, pouring his draconic strength into the clash, muscles bulging, veins straining as he tried to crush Ashan beneath sheer force.
"DIE!"
Mana surged,
He tried to amplify the blade,
But.. it failed.
The Inverted Spear of Heaven vibrated faintly.
Ashan's grin was faint, but unmistakable beneath the mask.
With a sharp twist of his wrist, he broke the lock, shifting the spear's angle just enough to throw Einar off balance and drove his knee straight into his abdomen.
"...Ghk!"
The air left Einar's lungs.
He staggered back.
Ashan followed.
Relentless.
A storm of thrusts descended upon him, each one probing, testing, dismantling, searching for the smallest weakness in his scale-covered body.
From afar, Celestia stood frozen.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Her throat had gone dry.
'I… can't believe this…'
Her gaze trembled.
'Uncle… is being pushed back?'
Around her, the atmosphere had shifted completely.
Students stared at the broadcast without blinking, their eyes glued to every movement.
S-rankers leaned forward, expressions sharpened, analyzing patterns, predicting flows, measuring the impossible.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
Back on the battlefield, the clash intensified.
A wild haymaker from Einar, Ashan slipped past it.
A counter,
A clean slice,
A portion of Einar's wing was severed.
Pain erupted.
Rage followed.
Einar retaliated instantly, forming claws from condensed mana and raking them toward Ashan's side, but the spear met them.
Einar was forced back.
Again.
"You're tough," Ashan admitted, his voice calm even as the clash raged on. "But let's see how long you last with that blade of yours."
He lunged without warning, the spear blurring straight toward Einar's chest.
Einar barely caught it.
The impact rattled through his arms as he forced the strike aside, his footing sliding across the fractured ground, balance faltering for a split second as the pressure mounted,
At that moment, something inside him clicked.
Years of battle screamed the truth at him, this was not an opponent he could overwhelm the usual way.
Then,
It surged.
His senses sharpened violently, far beyond control, the world snapping into unnatural clarity as something deeper began to rise from within, something that didn't listen, didn't obey.
His breathing grew heavier.
His body followed.
Muscles tightened, then swelled with crushing density, bones creaking under the strain as his frame expanded, horns forcing their way through, teeth sharpening, his vision narrowing into something far more feral.
'If my blade… isn't enough…'
His grip loosened slightly.
'Then I'll stop holding back.'
His wings spread wide, and in the next instant, he shot into the sky with explosive force, the ground beneath him shattering as he rose, flames trailing behind him in violent bursts.
Below, Ashan didn't move.
He simply watched.
Waiting to see what Einar would become.