Chapter 60: UNKNOWN VS UNSHAKABLE

The air in the arena shifted the moment the next announcement echoed across the sky.

“Second Semifinal — Logan Smith versus Prince Rowan Hale!”

Once again, the crowd erupted—but this time, it was different. There was excitement, anticipation, and thunderous cheers, yes… but also something more.

Curiosity.

Not the casual kind, but the heavy, whispering kind that lingers in the air before a storm. Because this wasn’t just a battle between prodigies—it was a clash between the unknown and the unshakable.

On one side stood Prince Rowan Hale. In every match so far, none of his opponents had lasted more than five minutes. He moved like royalty, struck like a storm, and carried himself with quiet authority. Some spectators even suspected that he was already a Tier 3 mage. Though it was just a hunch, the possibility still lingered in the crowd.

On the other side was Logan Smith—a boy who had gone from being a nobody to mystery in just three rounds.

First, people thought he was a just a cannon fodder with a noble name. But then he beat Varn Drayden, revealing he had dual affinities at just twelve years old. After that he stunned the crowd by defeating Lira Wynn, though no one could quite explain how he did it. And then, during his quarterfinal against Rovan Yale, came the biggest surprise—Logan had three elemental affinities, not just two.

Each of Rowan’s matches had been a show of control and dominance.

And each of Logan’s matches?

They all have been a revelation.

And now, here they were. Only one would become the second finalist.

When Logan’s name was called, he rose from his seat slowly, his face calm, posture collected. But just as he took a step forward, a hand caught his wrist.

It was Alice.

“Sweetheart… please,” she said softly, eyes full of concern. “Be careful this time, alright? I can’t take another match that leaves me breathless.”

Rudeous’s voice followed, firm but warm. “Your mother’s right. You’ve already brought enough honor to House Smith. You don’t have to push yourself beyond the limit again. Just go, enjoy the match, and come back safe. Don’t fight like it is a do-or-die match.”

Logan paused, then gave a gentle smile.

“You guys worry too much. I promise—I know when to stop. I won’t go overboard this time.”

From the side, Noah and Emily Starwind gave him a thumbs-up.

“Best of luck, Logan!” they said in unison.

Logan nodded. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Starwind. And mom—just relax, sip some tea, and enjoy the match.”

He turned and walked toward the stage.

Despite his reassuring words, Alice’s heart wouldn’t still. She stared at his back, holding her breath.

Prince Rowan Hale had started earlier and already reached the near the stage.

He entered from the left gate—tall, straight-backed, wearing a crisp crimson cloak lined with a golden crest. Despite all the battles, his attire was still spotless. Not even a crease on his collar. His golden hair shone under the enchanted light, perfectly combed, and his expression…

It was different this time.

It was calm as always—but tinged with something new. Interest. Maybe even respect.

Because standing across from him, entering from the right gate, was Logan Smith—the enigma of this year’s tournament. Talented enough to stir curiosity, humble enough to earn admiration, and resolute enough to not back down easily.

To Rowan, this wasn’t just another opponent. Logan felt more like a rival.

Logan stepped into the arena, now wearing a simple white shirt tucked into dark trousers—his cloak had been destroyed in the last match.

He stopped ten meters away from Rowan.

The referee stood between them and raised his voice.

“Participants—are you ready?”

A wave of silence swept through the entire coliseum. From the nobles in the viewing boxes to the commoners in the upper stands, not a single sound was heard.

Both Logan and Rowan nodded.

Three!

The countdown echoed like thunder. The silence before a divine clash.

Two!

Neither of them moved. No stances. No spells. Just two calm boys facing each other.

One!

Still nothing. The intensity people anticipated from the get go didn’t happen.

Then—Rowan spoke.

“I’m glad we’re having this match. I’ve been waiting for it.”

His tone was genuine, not mocking. It was the first time Rowan openly acknowledged an opponent before a battle.

Logan dipped his head slightly, voice calm. “That makes two of us. But for me… it’s more than gladness. It’s an honor. To fight you. And to learn from you.”

He bowed with sincerity.

Rowan’s brows lifted. “Learn from me, huh? Are you sure you’re only twelve? The way you speak—it carries more weight than most adults.”

Logan smiled faintly. “Prince, let’s not keep the crowd waiting.”

Rowan nodded. “You’re right. I’ll let you take the first move—not out of pity, but respect. Given our age gap, it only seems fair.”

That caught Logan off-guard for a moment. Such confidence. But not arrogance. Not showmanship.

It was pure sportsmanship.

“But if we’re speaking about age,” Logan thought to himself, “shouldn’t I be offering him three free hits at least?”

He smiled inwardly but said nothing. It’s not like he could reveal who he really was.

“I’ll take the lead, then,” he finally replied aloud.

Then, slowly he bent down slightly.

Crack.

The stone floor split beneath his feet as mana surged through his legs.

The audience leaned forward as one.

It was beginning.

Even the usually chaotic betting corner went silent. Albert, who always shouted odds and wagers, sat glued to his seat, eyes wide.

Logan clenched his fist, his muscles coiling like a spring. Lightning flickered around his forearm as he locked eyes with Rowan.

And then—

Boom!

The ground exploded behind him as he launched forward, vanishing from sight for a split second.

A sonic boom rippled through the air.

In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of Rowan, his fist crackling with lightning—

A collision was coming.

And the arena held its breath once more.

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