The explosion tore through the ground like a cannon blast.

Sand and rock erupted skyward, the shockwave ripping a shallow crater into the area. Debris rained down in a storm of grit.

When the dust thinned, Aaron stood at the center of it — covered head to toe in dirt, eyes burning with raw fury. His coat hung in tatters, blood crusted along one temple. The steel staff in his hands glowed faintly, runes flickering from overuse.

He dragged in a breath that sounded more like a snarl. “You really thought that would hold me, kid?”

Ludger was already walking toward him, calm as if he’d been expecting the eruption. His right arm flexed as he rolled his shoulder — testing motion. To Aaron’s eyes, it looked fine. Too fine. The last time he’d seen the boy, those arms were useless.

He frowned. “You heal fast for someone who shouldn’t be alive.”

“Good bones,” Ludger said dryly. “Inherited them from my mother, and my father too, I guess.”

Behind them, Gaius sat against a tree, a half-eaten rabbit in one hand, expression unreadable. The old mage didn’t even look up. He just chewed slowly, as if watching a storm he’d already predicted.

Aaron spat into the dirt. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But this time, I’m not playing around.”

Ludger stopped about twenty paces away. His boots sank slightly into the sand — the same sand he’d shaped for this exact moment. “Neither am I.”

Aaron’s eyes narrowed. He twirled his staff once, runes flaring to life, the hum of condensed mana rolling through the air. “You planning to bury me again?”

“Something like that,” Ludger said. His tone was flat, calm, but his mana was already bleeding into the ground, unseen veins stretching outward beneath Aaron’s feet.

A heartbeat passed. The ground went still — too still.

Aaron shifted his stance, frowning. “What—”

The ground convulsed.

Ludger advanced, eyes hard. Each step he took made the spiral tighten.

The second round had begun.

The staff cut through the air like a drawn blade, a blur of steel and mana pressure. Each swing left a shimmer in its wake—dense enough that the shockwaves cracked open the stone around them.

Ludger barely sidestepped the first strike. The second passed close enough to tear a line across his sleeve. He could feel the weight behind it—brute power refined by precision.

Aaron was no brawler; his control was surgical. Every swing targeted a vital, every thrust sought to break stance or bone.

Ludger kept his distance, breathing slow, eyes tracking the flow of mana along the weapon. Every motion had a rhythm: charge, compress, release. If he could read it, he could slip through it.

Another strike came—a downward smash aimed for his skull. Ludger pivoted, sand spraying under his boots, and twisted sideways. The staff slammed into the ground beside him, detonating a wave of dust.

He used that opening.

Ludger snapped his half-healed arm forward, fingers curling into a tight knifehand. He wasn’t healed enough to shatter bone, but he didn’t need to. He went for the wrist.

Aaron caught the motion instantly. The man jerked his arm back and reversed grip, turning the swing into a backhand sweep. Ludger ducked again, but the blow clipped his shoulder, spinning him half around.

Pain flared—hot and sharp—but he stayed upright.

Aaron smirked. “You’re fast, I’ll give you that. But you’re not breaking my guard.”

Ludger straightened slowly, exhaling through his nose. Dust coated his hair, blood streaked his sleeve. His stance lowered, centered, eyes locked on Aaron’s arms—not the weapon.

He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

Aaron advanced again, staff cutting diagonally in a burst of speed that left a faint crack of air. Ludger slipped past it, brushing the weapon with his right hand just enough to redirect the angle. He stepped in close—too close for the staff to build momentum—and struck again.

His palm hit Aaron’s forearm just below the elbow, releasing a jolt of charged pressure. Bone Breaker.

The impact didn’t shatter anything, but it jarred the muscles hard enough that Aaron’s grip faltered. The staff dipped.

Ludger went for the disarm—spinning low, aiming to hook the shaft with his boot and rip it free—

—but Aaron reacted instantly, twisting with the motion and using Ludger’s momentum against him. His elbow slammed into Ludger’s ribs, knocking the air out of him.

The staff snapped back up like a lever. The next swing came point-blank.

Ludger barely crossed his forearms in time. The blow hurled him backward. He hit the sand, rolled once, and came up to a knee. His right arm screamed with pain again; the temporary healing was already fraying.

Aaron spat blood and rolled his shoulder. “Good try, kid. You almost made me drop it.”

Ludger wiped dust from his mouth, eyes narrowing. “Almost’s fine. You’ll be slower now.”

Aaron laughed—a short, sharp bark—and raised his weapon again. “Then let’s see which of us breaks first.”

The next exchange came faster, sharper—staff and sand, force and counterforce. Ludger didn’t block; he flowed around every strike, always one heartbeat late, always surviving by inches.

Each time he moved, his hands sought one thing: the tendons, the wrists, the points of control.

Aaron realized it now. Every dodge wasn’t just evasion—it was study.

The kid was reading him, like an open book.

And when Ludger’s eyes met his again, calm amid the storm, Aaron felt the first real flicker of unease.

Aaron’s breathing had turned ragged now, the air thick with dust and heat. Each clash sent cracks spidering through the ground beneath them. He adjusted his grip, runes flickering faintly across the length of his staff — this time, no restraint.

He was done playing.

Aaron’s stance dropped low, the weapon humming with stored mana. “Let’s end this.”

But then he hesitated.

Behind Ludger, at the edge of the area, Gaius was still there. Leaned against a tree. Calm. The old mage tore off another piece of rabbit and chewed like he was watching a play, not a duel.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed. The bastard didn’t even look tired anymore. That easy posture — that faint glint of mana around his fingers — said one thing: he was recovering fast.

If he waited too long, he’d be facing two geomancers.

Aaron’s pulse spiked. Take the kid out now. Finish it before the old one stands.

That moment of thought — that split second of calculation — was all Ludger needed.

He saw the flicker in Aaron’s gaze. The subtle shift of attention.

And he smiled. A sharp, dangerous thing.

Then the world howled.

Rage Flow ignited in his veins, molten rage flooding every muscle like fire under his skin. The pain that had dulled him vanished, replaced by a brutal clarity. His heartbeat thundered, his eyes burned red, and the edges of his vision sharpened to a razor.

He clenched his fists — blood dripping from reopened scars — and layered it with Blood Rush. His pulse spiked again. Strength multiplied, reflexes snapped to violent precision.

Muscles corded under his skin, veins flaring with crimson light. His face twisted, not in madness but in focus — rage honed to purpose.

Aaron’s instincts screamed. He swung first, the staff whistling through the air — but Ludger was already gone, a blur of motion cutting through the dust.

He reappeared inside Aaron’s guard, faster than before, faster than human. His fist slammed into the side of the staff with enough force to bend steel. The runes along it flickered, the hum collapsing for a heartbeat.

Aaron snarled and brought the weapon around again, but Ludger didn’t flinch. He stepped into the arc, shoulder-first, letting the blow glance across him as his right hand shot forward.

His palm crashed into Aaron’s forearm — the same arm he’d been targeting from the start. Bone Breaker. This time, under Rage Flow, it didn’t just jar. It cracked.

Aaron’s grip faltered, pain flashing across his face. Ludger didn’t stop. He pivoted, twisting under the staff, and slammed his elbow into Aaron’s ribs, driving the air from his lungs.

The staff fell.

Aaron tried to grab it mid-drop, but Ludger kicked it away, sending it tumbling into the sand.

For the first time, Aaron looked rattled — truly rattled. His instincts told him to pull back, to reassess — but Ludger’s expression told him it was already too late.

The boy stood there, chest heaving, skin flushed a deep red, blood dripping down his arms — a monster carved out of exhaustion and fury.

His teeth were clenched, but his voice was steady.

“You should’ve stayed buried.”

Aaron charged, his broken arm still trembling but his fury blotting out the pain.

Ludger didn’t wait.

He moved first—Rage Flow and Blood Rush roaring through him. His feet tore grooves in the dirt, every step detonating dust as he closed the distance.

Then the punches came.

The first struck Aaron’s guard like a hammer. The second drove through it. The air cracked with each hit, the force so sharp it left trails of compressed heat. A dozen blows landed in the span of heartbeats—each one precise, targeting ribs, shoulders, arms.

Aaron blocked high, low, pivoted, tried to counter—but the barrage didn’t stop. Every punch carried the weight of burning blood and sheer will. Sparks burst in the air where flesh met metal.

“Enough!” Aaron roared, spinning his staff into a desperate counterstrike.

Ludger ducked under it, his knuckles grazing the steel in passing. The friction ignited the air between them, a burst of sparks like flint and oil. He stepped inside Aaron’s guard again, fists slamming into the man’s torso in a blur.

The impacts sounded like stones breaking.

Aaron stumbled back, arm shuddering from the punishment. His muscles screamed, arms weakening again.

Ludger didn’t let him breathe. He stepped forward, chest heaving, fists dripping red—his own blood and Aaron’s. Each motion was pure instinct now, rage molded into precision.

Aaron caught the next strike with his forearm, but the shockwave blew his balance apart.

He reeled—half blind, half deaf from the ringing in his skull. The boy’s hits weren’t clean technique anymore—they were pressure,

relentless and suffocating.

Every punch seemed to pull the air with it, compressing it until even the dust flared from friction. The ridge shook from the tempo, each blow driving Aaron another step back.

Finally, with a snarl, Aaron roared and pushed his mana outward in a violent burst. The shockwave tore them apart, scattering the sand like an explosion.

Both fighters slid across the dirt—Ludger on one knee, Aaron on his heels, panting hard, his broken arm hanging loose.

The man spat blood, eyes blazing. “You think brute force will kill me?”

Ludger stood again, slow, unblinking, the red haze of Rage Flow burning low around him. His tone came out flat, cold.

“No. But it’ll make what comes next easier.”

Aaron tightened his grip, staff trembling from fatigue. The wind between them stilled, as if the mountain itself was holding its breath.

The next exchange would decide who walked away.

Ludger’s heartbeat hammered in his skull. His vision tunneled—edges darkening, every breath tasting of iron and heat. Rage Flow was devouring him from the inside. He didn’t have long before it drowned his focus completely.

Finish it. Now.

He forced his mind to cut through the fury, breathing once, slow and deep. His body screamed for more violence, but he anchored himself to motion, not thought.

Both arms rose—palms open, fingers spread wide. The stance was old, built for catching force, not dodging it.

Aaron frowned, wiping blood from his mouth. “What the hell are you—”

He stopped midword.

The boy wasn’t trembling anymore. The heat around him pulsed in steady waves, like a heartbeat made of fire. Sand drifted upward, drawn by the pressure. Ludger looked calm now—too calm. That was the warning.

Aaron’s instincts flared. He dove for his fallen staff, rolling across the dirt as he grabbed it and twisted to face the charging blur coming for him.

Ludger hit like a thunderclap.

Aaron braced the staff horizontally, catching the first impact—but the power behind it made his teeth rattle. The second strike came a breath later, both palms slamming forward.

The staff snapped.

Metal screamed, runes bursting in a cascade of light. The shockwave threw sand and rock in every direction. Aaron’s guard shattered, the weapon splitting in two under the pressure.

Then the hits landed.

Both of Ludger’s palms slammed into Aaron’s chest and shoulders in a twin explosion of pale light—concentrated Mana Bolts, fired point-blank from his hands.

The impact was cataclysmic.

Aaron’s shoulders erupted in a burst of light and blood. His body lifted off the ground, slammed backward through the air, and hit a hill hard enough to carve a trench through the sand.

The sound rolled down the area like thunder.

Ludger staggered forward, panting, arms trembling violently. His palms smoked, skin raw and burned from channeling too much power at once. The air around him shimmered with heat and the fading haze of Rage Flow.

Aaron twitched once in the crater he’d made—his staff in splinters, his armor cracked, blood pooling beneath him. He tried to rise but couldn’t. The tendons in his shoulders were gone; the impact had half torn his arms apart.

Ludger stared down at him through the settling dust, chest heaving. His voice came low, rough, almost quiet.

“Third strongest, huh?”

Aaron glared up, one eye already swelling shut. “You… little monster…”

Ludger didn’t reply. He simply turned away, steps uneven, heading back toward the tree line where Gaius waited.

Behind him, the last of the dust fell. Aaron didn’t move again.Ludger’s rage burned out mid-step, leaving only exhaustion and silence in its place. The fight was over.

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