Elliot’s sharp eyes caught it first—the subtle change in the flow of Rhys’ Essentia. His analytical mind raced as he processed the shift, his voice low but urgent. “He’s changed,” he said, his gaze never leaving the fight. “I can’t believe he learnt it.”


    In a heartbeat, Rhys had already adjusted his stance, his body moving with a precision born of years of experience. His golden aura flared brighter, the energy around him condensing into a solid barrier as he met the attack head-on. The spinning kick crashed into his defense, the impact sending a shockwave rippling through the arena. The ground beneath them cracked, the force of the collision scattering debris in all directions.


    But Rhys didn’t falter. Instead, he absorbed the blow, his muscles straining as he channeled the force of the attack into his own movements. His expression was calm, almost serene, as if he had anticipated this very moment. The crowd watched in stunned silence, the tension in the air so thick it felt like the world itself had paused.


    Sylra’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through her usual composure. She had expected him to dodge or deflect, not to meet her attack with such unyielding resolve


    The fight had reached a new level, the stakes higher than ever. The crowd was on the edge of their seats, their breaths held as they watched the two combatants clash once more. The air crackled with energy, the tension in the arena reaching a fever pitch as the battle continued to unfold.


    A shockwave rippled outward, tearing through the arena with a force that sent tremors through the ground and rattled the spectators in their seats. The air itself seemed to vibrate, the sheer power of the clash between Sylra and Rhys leaving an indelible mark on the battlefield. Dust and debris scattered in all directions, the remnants of the arena floor crumbling under the strain of their combined might.


    Towan, instinctively raising an arm to shield his face from the blast, turned to Elliot, his voice barely audible over the lingering echoes of the impact. “Is that really…?” he asked, his tone a mix of awe and disbelief. His eyes were wide, his usual bravado replaced by a flicker of unease as he processed what he had just witnessed.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Elliot nodded grimly, his gaze fixed on the aftermath of the clash. His analytical mind was already dissecting the technique, his voice low but steady as he answered.


    “Eryndar’s unbreakable defense,” he confirmed, his tone carrying a weight of respect. “Rhys has mastered it. That’s why he could absorb her attack like that.”


    Both Sylra and Rhys leapt backward, their movements synchronized as they momentarily regained their footing. The distance between them was minimal, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of determination and respect. Without hesitation, they rushed toward each other once more, their bodies moving with a speed and precision that left the crowd breathless.


    This time, Rhys launched a quick, bullet-like punch, his fist cutting through the air with deadly precision. The attack was aimed straight for Sylra’s midsection, its speed and force enough to incapacitate most opponents. But Sylra, anticipating the strike, countered with a high kick aimed straight for his face, her movements fluid and precise. The wind around her leg surged, amplifying the force of her attack as it arced toward its target.


    But before either could land their blows, both attacks were caught—mid-air, with shocking ease.


    Rheon appeared between them, his presence commanding the attention of the entire arena. His towering figure seemed to radiate an aura of authority, his Essentia flaring faintly as he grasped Sylra’s kick with one hand and Rhys’ punch with the other, halting both attacks effortlessly. The crowd gasped, the sheer display of power leaving them in stunned silence.


    “This is good enough for a show match!” Rheon declared, his voice booming across the arena with a tone of finality that made both fighters halt in their tracks. His golden eyes swept over them, a faint smile playing on his lips as he released their limbs and stepped back. “You’ve both shown more than enough to get the crowd excited. Save the rest for the real battles.”


    The crowd erupted in a deafening roar, the sound echoing through the arena like a tidal wave of excitement. Cheers, applause, and whistles filled the air, the spectators on their feet as they celebrated the incredible display of skill and power they had just witnessed. This was the first match of the event, and it had lived up to every expectation, leaving the crowd more excited than ever for what was to come.


    Sylra and Rhys exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of respect and lingering competitiveness. Though the match had been cut short, the message was clear—this was only the beginning. The real battles were yet to come, and both of them knew that the stakes would only get higher from here.