Chapter 265: VICTORY
Robert charged forward, fire erupting from his fists. Seraphine darted along the edge. Her cloak looked like a violet blur due to her speed as her blade shimmered with lightning. Their approach was seamless, perfectly timed, perfectly spaced.
Logan braced himself.
Robert struck first, launching a flurry of blazing punches straight toward Logan’s chest. Each impact radiated searing heat, the air shimmering around his fists. At the same time, Seraphine closed in from the flank, her sword slicing downward in an arc of crackling lightning.
Logan dodged the first few punches, moving his body here and there, but when both attacks arrived at once, he twisted, letting Robert’s punch skim past his shoulder, while ducking under Seraphine’s blade in the same breath. Sparks exploded as the elemental forces clashed in the space where Logan had stood moments before, fire and lightning colliding midair in a burst of chaotic energy.
For a heartbeat, they stood at the center. While both Robert and Sheraphine kept attacking relentlessly, Logan kept dodging swiftly.
Seraphine spun on her heel, using the momentum to release a crescent of compressed wind blade aimed at Logan’s legs. Robert, sensing the opening, hurled a fireball.
Logan didn’t even flinch. A flash of motion as he swept his arm through the air, intercepting the fireball mid-flight. The fiery sphere dissipated in a rain of harmless embers, scattering across the scorched sand.
The crowd started at the ground, baffled.
"That kid from Arcadia, his moves are so flawless, swift! He moves like he isn’t here to fight but dance."
"From the very start until now, he hasn’t used magic even once. How is that even possible?!"
Robert regrouped with Seraphine, sweat streaking down his temple. He glanced at her. She didn’t need to speak. Their eyes met, and in that instant, the decision was made.
They nodded at each other and surged forward together, again.
And Logan?
He was dancing, weaving through them.
He ducked beneath Seraphine’s horizontal swing, using the opening to pivot around Robert’s punch. Then, with flawless precision, he slammed a palm into Robert’s lat.
Crack!
The force sent Robert staggering backward, fire flickering on his arms.
But there was no time to follow through.
Seraphine was already there.
Her blade grazed Logan’s shoulder. He twisted, seized her wrist, and pushed her away just in time to dodge another of Robert’s flame-coated fists.
The battlefield sizzled. The arena floor itself seemed to be breaking apart under the weight of their power.
Except for a few in the balconies of Arcadia, all were shocked beyond words. They leaned forward, lips parted in disbelief.
One of them muttered, "No matter what, none of them could land even a single hit."
Seraphine shot into the air, propelled by a surge of wind. Her sword glowed, lightning coiling around it like a living snake. From above, she dropped down with terrifying speed, aiming for Logan’s crown.
Logan looked up. Calm.
And the moment the blade arrived, he caught it with his bare hand.
The shockwave that followed threw up a curtain of sand and sparks.
Gasps rang through the crowd again.
Logan held the blade for only a second, but it was enough. He twisted, disarmed her, and spun low.
Thud!
A sweeping kick sent Seraphine tumbling.
Before the dust even cleared, Robert came crashing in.
Flames ignited along his arms, brighter than before. He poured everything into his fists.. every technique, every shred of strength.
His eyes burned with determination and excitement.
This was it.
One last shot.
He launched an explosive punch, his strongest til now, directly at Logan’s chest.
Logan didn’t dodge.
He met it head-on.
Fist against fist.
Fire against flesh.
Boom!
The shockwave cracked the ground, sending vibrations through the stadium.
Robert’s arm buckled under the pressure. Flames vanished. The force of Logan’s counter sent him stumbling back, barely able to stay on his feet.
But Logan wasn’t done.
He spun low.
Swept Robert’s legs.
The Caelondor fighter crashed to the ground.
Logan stood over him, his fist hovering inches from Robert’s chest.
Robert stared up at him, chest rising and falling. He tried to push himself up but his arms gave out.
Silence blanketed the arena.
Then Thalan’s voice boomed, clear and final:
"Robert of Caelondor is eliminated!"
The audience broke into thunderous applause.
Even those from rival kingdoms couldn’t help but cheer.
Robert, pride and frustration warring in his face, finally sat up.
Logan extended a hand.
A pause.
Then Robert took it.
Logan helped him to his feet.
"Hell of a punch," Robert muttered, lips twitching into a reluctant smile.
"You’re strong," Logan replied, nodding with quiet respect.
But his eyes were already shifting.
The fight wasn’t over.
Across the battlefield, Seraphine stood still.
Her cloak was torn. Her hair wild. Lightning danced across her skin.
But her expression...
It had changed.
No more calm. No more measured control.
This was something else entirely.
Power.
"Are you ready to go all out? You had been holding a lot," Logan said quietly, reading her perfectly.
Seraphine stepped forward, each footfall crackling with raw energy. "Not anymore."
Her mana erupted like a dam breaking. Wind howled. Lightning crackled. The ground split.
Even the audience recoiled.
"What... what is this pressure?!" someone gasped.
"She’s not an A-class..." another whispered. "This pressure of mana! Only an S-class fighter is capable of that."
The sky above darkened, clouds swirling like a vortex. Thunder rumbled overhead, answering Seraphine’s call.
She raised her sword. Lightning struck it.
Logan exhaled and adjusted his stance. "Interesting. She’s even stronger than Guildmaster."
The crowd had gone silent.
Thousands of eyes focused on two lone figures.
And then....
Seraphine charged. She was faster than before. She moved like a blur. Her blade struck down like lightning.
Crack!
But Logan still blocked it.
The impact pushed him back several steps though.
She followed up with a flurry of attacks, slashes laced with fire, stabs boosted by wind. Her rhythm was chaotic, unpredictable, and deadly.
Logan weaved through the chaos, deflecting what he could, dodging the rest.
A lightning crescent carved the ground beside him.
A wind-infused thrust ripped through his sleeve.
Logan grunted, planting both feet as her sword came down again.
He caught it between his arms.
The blade sparked, lightning arcing up his skin.
He growled and shoved her back but she twisted away, using wind to flip backward and land smoothly.
Then she hurled a bolt of lightning.
Logan sidestepped.
The bolt exploded behind him, blowing a crater into the stone wall.
"You’re strong," Logan said calmly.
Seraphine’s eyes glowed. "You haven’t seen anything."
She raised her sword toward the sky once more.
Lightning came down like divine judgment, slamming into her weapon and spreading down her arms.
Her entire body glowed with power.
And then...
She shot forward.
Logan exhaled, waited calmly.
And the moment Seraphine got close and was about to bring her sword down, Logan threw a punch. It wasn’t flashy. But the power it contained... It was enormous.
Time seemed to stop.
Then...
Crack!
Seraphine’s sword shattered.
Fragments flew into the air, dissolving mid-flight.
And then...
Thud!
A punch followed.
Seraphine collapsed to her knees, gasping. Her mana was gone. Her strength... spent.
Logan stood over her.
Silence.
Then Thalan stepped forward, raising one hand.
"The winner and champion of the Showdown of Prowess: Logan Smith of Arcadia!"
First a silence...
And then...
Cheering, screaming, stamping....
The stadium shook from the roar of the crowd.
But none of that affected Logan.
As the cheers echoed across the arena, he turned to Thalan and then walked toward him.
"Mr. Thalan," he said. "I have something important to say to all the kings and important figures from every kingdom. It would be a great help if you kindly let them know." There was something different in his voice now... something heavier.
Thalan’s brows rose. He didn’t know why but he felt as if not listening to Logan would cause a huge mistake.
"I’ll let them know," he said.
Logan turned to face the balconies, eyes sharp and steady.
The fight was over.
But what was coming next...
It would decide the fate of everyone.
From the royal balconies, the kings and nobles sat stunned. Many had dismissed Arcadia’s decision to send Logan as reckless, arrogant, even suicidal.
But now?
Now they couldn’t tear their eyes away from him.
Whispers broke out across the arena.
"That boy... he withstood everyone."
"Didn’t even use a single spell till the end. Just brute skill, precision, and control."
"Incredible..."
Meanwhile, down on the arena floor, Logan’s breathing had steadied. His shoulders rose and fell with calm control, but his eyes held the storm of someone who still had much to say.
"Now they’ll have to believe me," Logan thought. "They’ve seen with their own eyes what they needed to see. Unless they’re willing to sacrifice innocent lives, there’s no reason to reject my request. And I am sure, they all are dying to learn this technique, the technique that brought fake magic to its knees."