Chapter 40: Warm-Ups Hurt More

The arena shook with noise as thousands of people filled the stands, stomping and shouting.

On the raised platform, a man in bright robes appeared, raising his arms dramatically.

“Today is the day the true battle begins!”

The crowd exploded even louder, half of them cheering, the other half screaming insults at rival sects.

“We have thirty-two youths who survived the Treasure Realm! Now, they will face each other one-on-one!”

The floor below was packed with surviving contestants.

Dahlia stood stiff among them, hands clenched into fists at her sides, trying to stay calm.

She glanced up at the premium seats.

Garion was there, arms folded, sitting like he owned the place.

He scanned the crowd below, then the field, judging everyone’s form.

Dahlia’s eyes quickly begged for reassurance.

Garion just raised one finger, tapping his head, and moved his mouth.

Think first.

Dahlia’s shoulder dropped. She nodded and rolled them back, standing taller.

Garion just smiled, nodding.

“Good. She didn’t freak out.”

The announcer waved his sleeve again, nearly smacking a guard in the face.

“Without further delay, we will begin the matches!”

The crowd stomped in rhythm, rattling the arena floor.

The announcer cleared his throat loudly.

“First match, step forward! Adriel of the Silver Flame Sect versus Kaivor from the Blue Horn Sect!”

Gasps and cheers shot through the stands as two figures quickly stepped onto the stage.

Adriel wore a white robe lined with silver trim. His dark hair was tied back, and a long, beautiful silver spear was in his hands.

Kaivor walked out opposite him, stocky, broad-shouldered, with a long sword strapped to his back.

His robe was blue, the symbol of curved horns stitched across his chest.

He drew his sword with both hands, mana coating the blade in a faint glow.

The announcer raised both arms.

“Begin!”

Kaivor roared, stomping forward. His sword came down in a heavy arc.

“Take this. Horn Slash!”

Adriel slid back half a step, twisting the shaft of his spear and shoved it hard, knocking the sword aside.

“Too slow.”

Then with a smooth step, he lunged his spear toward Kaivor’s chest.

“Silver Thrust!”

Kaivor frowled, twisting his shoulders.

The tip scapred across his robe but didn’t pierce him.

He then took his sword back and swung again, this time a sideways slash, forcing Adriel to hop back.

“You almost got me there,” Kaivor said, grinning.

“You’ll need more than smiles,” Adriel shot back.

He spun his spear in a tight circle, forcing Kaivor to reset his footing.

The crowd cheered, stomping the floor.

Kaivor then bent his knees, mana rushing to his arms.

He charged like a bull, sword raised high.

“Horn Breaker!”

He slashed downward with full force.

Adriel pivoted to the side, spear brushing past Kaivor’s ribs in a quick jab.

The strike hit, leaving a shallow mark, but Kaivor barely flinched.

“Thick skin, huh?” Adriel said, pulling his weapon back.

Kaivor grinned wider. “That’s just how strong I am.”

They clashed again.

Adriel’s feet glided in short steps, spear flicking from high to low.

Kaivor pressed in with raw strength. Each strike was heavier than the last.

The announcer leaned forward, shouting to the air.

“What a clash! Skill against strength, speed against power!”

Kaivor pressed forward, sword ringing repeatly.

“Stop running!”

His heavy blade carved a line in the floor.

Adriel’s eyes narrowed, spinning his spear around his wrist.

“Running? No. I’m waiting.”

Kaivor stomped in, lifting his sword overhead for another crusing slash.

“Horn Splitter!”

Adriel suddenly stepped in instead of back. His spear shot upward in a sharp arc.

“Rising Fang!”

The spear’s tip slid under the sword, lifting it high.

Kaivor’s arms jolted, breaking his stance.

Adrield didn’t waste breath. He twisted his hips, drove his spear forward.

“Silver Thrust!”

Crack!

The spear slammed into Kaivor’s chest, making him stumble back three steps.

He gasped, clenching the fresh tear in his robe.

The crowd roared in excitement.

“You… That was luck.”

Adriel’s stance didn’t waver.

He spun the spear once more, planting his back foot.

“No. That wasn’t luck. It’s just my strength.”

Kaivor tried to raise his sword again, but his arms shook.

Adriel rushed forward, spear blurring in a flurry of quick strikes.

Each blow pushed Kaivor further and further back.

The announce jumped in excitement.

“He’s pushing him to the edge!”

Kaivor let out one last shout, swinging desperately.

“Horn Breaker!”

Adriel sidestepped, twisted, and slammed the spear’s butt into Kaivor’s ribs.

Kaivor groaned. His grip on his sword loosened.

And before he could react, the silver tip pressed firmly against his throat.

The crowd quickly erupted.

The announcer raised both arms.

“Winner. Adriel of the Silver Flame Sect!”

Adriel pulled his weapon back, gave a small bow, and walked off as if nothing had happened.

Kaivor sat on the floor, frowning.

“Damn it.”

—

Garion leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, watching the stage below.

“Not bad. Their body form when attacking is clean. That Kaivor kid even puts power in the leg.”

He tapped his chin.

“But the footwork’s still stiff. Adriel’s spear flow is smoother, but he wastes energy twirling it like a show-off.”

The elders around him gave odd looks, whispering about his strange words, but Garion ignored them.

Garion then looked back at the battle.

“Although they are good, knowing how to move and how to swing…”

He smirked.

“They were not still as good as Dahlia. Her stance is sharper and she’s faster too.”

He leaned back, arms crossing over his chest.

“If she faced either of them right now? She’d win. Easy.”

Down below, Dahlia sat cross-legged in the waiting area.

She watched as Adriel beat Kaivor.

“… Is this it?”

The girl next to her glanced over.

“What do you mean?”

Dahlia shrugged.

“They move nice, but they waste too much time yelling and spinning around. If they fought my master, he’d choke them out in ten seconds.”

The girl blinked, shocked. “…Choke?”

Dahlia lifted her hands and mimed squeezing someone’s neck.

“Yeah. Like this. He really likes it.”

The girl frowned as she quickly scooted a little farther.

Dahlia leaned back, stretching her arms.

“Honestly, Master’s warm-ups are scarier than this fight. Squats and push-ups hurt more than those strikes.”

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