The duel arena erupted the moment Mica moved.
Not fast—
inevitable.
Her ability activated instantly.
FLEET FOOT.
A divine movement technique that made every harmful action against her "avoidable."
Every strike.
Every projectile.
Every prediction.
All of it bent away from her path.
She stepped around attacks before they even fully existed.
Kings watching from the balcony widened their eyes.
"…That ability again…"
Mica smirked confidently.
"No one has ever landed a hit on me."
Then—
Jhonathan punched her.
Silence.
The impact launched her across the city district, crashing straight through a wet market in an explosion of water, broken stalls, and flying fish.
Everyone froze.
"…He hit her."
Mica slowly stood from the wreckage.
Eyes wide.
Shaking slightly.
"…What…"
Her voice cracked.
"…No one has ever touched me before…"
Meanwhile—
Jhonathan's tuxedo ripped apart from the force of his own punch.
The glowing runic tattoos across his body became visible beneath the torn fabric.
Ancient symbols pulsed with divine light across his arms and chest.
Mica stared at him.
Then smiled.
"…Okay."
She raised her hand toward the sky.
"…Then I'll stop holding back."
The clouds split apart.
A gigantic meteor formed above Elenor.
Massive.
Burning.
Nearly the size of Mount Everest.
People screamed.
The kings immediately prepared barriers.
But Jhonathan simply looked upward.
Then jumped.
One punch.
The meteor shattered.
A shockwave exploded across the heavens, turning the sky white for a moment.
Fragments burned into harmless dust before touching the city.
Mica's short brown hair blew wildly from the aftermath.
She stared upward silently.
Then slowly—
she dropped to her knees.
"…So this is losing…"
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"…It's my first time."
Jhonathan landed quietly in front of her.
No arrogance.
No celebration.
He kneeled down.
And gently patted her head.
"…It's okay to lose."
He smiled softly.
"…Life is about both losing and winning."
The arena went silent.
Not because of the battle—
but because of how calmly he said it.
Then suddenly—
King Alfred came sprinting into the arena, panicking.
"JHONATHAN!"
He grabbed both of his shoulders dramatically.
"…ALL THE SWORDS AND THEIR PARTIES ARE BEING SENT TO WAR!"