The tension in the air was thick as Lee and Kieran stood face to face. The announcer''s voice echoed through the stadium, officially marking the start of the match.


    Kieran smirked, lazily twirling his sword. "I''ll be nice and give you a few chances to strike first," he taunted, standing almost casually, as if this was nothing more than a practice duel.


    Lee didn’t take the bait. He remained still, gripping his sword tightly. His amber eyes locked onto Kieran’s every movement.


    The crowd was already murmuring.


    "He’s not even attacking."


    "Kieran is toying with him."


    "This will be over soon."


    With a sigh, Kieran finally moved. In one swift motion, he dashed forward, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Lee blocked it, but the sheer force made him skid back.


    "See? You can’t even hold your ground," Kieran mocked.


    Another strike. Another block.


    Lee stayed defensive, watching, waiting.


    Kieran continued his assault, throwing in quick jabs, wide slashes—nothing too complex. His attacks were fluid but effortless.


    The crowd erupted with cheers for Kieran.


    "Yeah, finish him already!"


    "Lee is just delaying the inevitable."


    But at the participants'' podium, Riven narrowed his eyes. Something felt… off.


    Kieran was attacking, but Lee wasn’t losing ground as much as he should have been. He wasn’t countering. He was simply… watching.


    Then, Lee moved.


    Kieran went in for another attack, expecting the same weak defense.


    But this time, Lee dodged. Not just a simple dodge—he sidestepped so smoothly that Kieran''s sword cut nothing but air.


    Before Kieran could react, Lee lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air toward Kieran’s chest.


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    Clang!


    Kieran barely managed to block it, his arms shaking slightly from the impact.


    The crowd went silent for a second.


    Kieran growled. “You got lucky.”


    He attacked again, faster, stronger. But this time, Lee countered each strike. His movements were sharper, more refined.


    He had seen through Kieran’s attacks.


    <h4> </h4>


    The sound of metal clashing rang through the stadium. The crowd, once dismissive of Lee, now watched in awe.


    "Wait… Lee is holding his ground?"


    "He’s countering Kieran’s attacks!"


    Some spectators still scoffed, but others began to take an interest.


    At the participants’ podium, Prathisya was confused. "How is he suddenly keeping up with Kieran?"


    Riven smirked. "He’s doing what I did in my match."


    Prathisya turned to him. "What do you mean?"


    "He’s analyzing." Riven’s eyes gleamed with excitement. "At first, he wasn’t attacking. He was letting Kieran make his moves, studying them. He figured out Kieran’s rhythm, his tendencies, and his openings. Now that he knows… he''s fighting back."


    <hr>


    Realizing that Lee had caught onto his movements, Kieran gritted his teeth. His attacks became more aggressive, his swings heavier.


    Lee blocked a powerful downward strike but was forced back. The crowd thought he was weakening.


    "He’s losing!"


    "Kieran’s overpowering him!"


    But Riven knew better.


    Lee was still watching. Calculating.


    Then, with a mutter under his breath, Lee whispered, "Too predictable."


    His amber eyes flashed with realization.


    Kieran swung again—his form was aggressive, but now Lee saw it: the pattern. Kieran’s movements always followed the same sequence.


    Right strike. Left jab. Wide swing. Downward smash.


    Lee dodged and sidestepped each one with ease.


    The crowd gasped.


    Kieran, frustrated, snarled, “Stop running away and fight me properly!”


    But Lee was already moving.


    He parried Kieran’s next swing and in one fluid motion, twisted his sword in a way that knocked Kieran’s blade slightly off balance.


    Then he attacked.


    His strikes were sharp, relentless. Each blow landed exactly where Kieran was weakest.


    The once-confident warrior was now struggling.


    Lee’s speed increased. His precision was terrifying.


    The crowd was on fire. Some were still against him, but others were beginning to admire his skill.


    Even those who had mocked him earlier were now leaning forward, captivated by his movements.


    Kieran, panting, took a step back. "You actually think you can win against me?" he sneered. "These people are fools for cheering you on."


    But before he could finish his sentence—


    CLANG!


    Kieran’s sword went flying.


    The crowd fell silent.


    The announcer, wide-eyed, struggled to find his voice. “L-Lee… Ardent… wins!”


    And then—


    The stadium erupted.


    Cheers roared through the arena. Those who had dismissed Lee before now chanted his name.


    Prathisya, still shocked, turned to Riven. “What just happened?”


    Riven grinned. “Lee predicted Kieran’s final attack and redirected the force. Kieran put too much power into it… and Lee used that against him.”


    Lee, breathing heavily, turned away from Kieran and walked toward his friends.


    Prathisya stood up. “Lee, that was amazing!”


    Riven smirked. “Took you long enough.”


    Lee just gave a small nod, but inside, he felt it—


    For the first time, he had turned the doubters into believers.


    And this… was only the beginning.