“Grr….” Ethan’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

His hands trembled on the shaft of his spear, blood dripping down his arm, but his fury drowned out the pain.

He could feel the mocking weight of Gray’s grin pressing down on him more than any wound.

“Enough!” he roared, veins standing out in his neck. “You think you can laugh at me?! Then die beneath this!”

FWOOSH!

His aura surged, violent and oppressive.

The air thickened, pressing down on the arena like a storm before thunder. Wind howled, carrying sharp flecks of stone, and the sky itself seemed to ripple in response.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

“His strongest move…!”

“I’ve never seen him go this far!”

Ethan raised the spear overhead with both hands, his body glowing faintly as mana wrapped around him. His eyes burned with desperate rage.

“Sixth Form—DIVINE SPEAR FALL!”

He slammed the spear downward, and for a moment, reality bent.

Clouds formed from nowhere, spiraling above and then crashing down, ghostly shapes passing straight through Gray’s body.

For the briefest instant, it felt as though Gray’s form was being erased from existence, as though the spear was cleaving not just flesh but the world itself.

“…What the…” Gray’s body jolted, his vision blurring slighly.

But then… he saw it.

The faint tilt of Ethan’s elbow, the exact angle of his wrists, and the imperfect overextension in his footing.

The attack was strong, yes… but flawed.

Gray’s eyes narrowed, lips curling into a bloodstained smile.

“Pathetic.”

He stepped forward into the strike instead of away, his rapier flashing in a precise, almost casual thrust.

Clang!

It struck not Ethan’s body, but the shaft of his spear, right at the vulnerable junction where the force of the technique was weakest.

CRACK!

The sound echoed louder than thunder.

“…W-what…” Ethan’s voice broke as his eyes went wide.

The weapon that had carried him through countless battles… his beloved spear… split down the middle.

Fragments of silver and splinters of mana scattered like dying stars across the arena floor.

The silence that followed was absolute. Even the crowd seemed stunned into disbelief, staring at the two figures frozen in the wreckage.

Gray tilted his head, his grin widening into something feral. His black eyes gleamed with cruel delight as he whispered:

“You relied on it too much.”

He raised his rapier, the broken pieces of spear clattering at his feet.

“Now you’ve got nothing.”

“Y-You bastard!” Ethan roared, spittle flying from his lips.

His broken weapon lay useless on the ground, but his fury didn’t.

Fwip!

He lunged forward with clenched fists, hammering blows toward Gray’s chest, his jaw, his throat in a wild manner.

Each punch met nothing.

Gray tilted his head lazily, stepping to the side as if swatting away a child’s tantrum.

His hands never touched his rapier. It remained sheathed at his waist, the leather grip resting untouched, an insult sharper than any blade.

The crowd’s cheers quieted.

The humiliating imbalance was too obvious.

“Why won’t you fight me?!” Ethan’s voice cracked, hoarse with rage.

His fists blurred through the air, striking nothing but dust. His knuckles split and bled as they hit the ground, but he kept swinging.

Gray chuckled at his words.

“Fight? This isn’t a fight anymore.”

A wild kick shot toward his head, Ethan screaming as he put every ounce of strength into it.

Thud!

But Gray’s hand moved faster, clamping his fingers around Ethan’s ankle mid-air, stopping him cold.

“Without your spear…” Gray said, his grin spreading wide as he twisted his grip, “You’re quite nothing, huh?”

With a sharp shove, he flung Ethan’s leg aside.

The boy spun clumsily on one foot, stumbling like a drunk. Before he could catch his balance, Gray’s boot slammed forward.

Crack!

“AGHK!” Ethan shrieked, blood spraying as his nose bent violently out of shape. His body reeled backward, but Gray didn’t let him fall.

No, he closed the distance in a second, seizing Ethan’s collar and yanking him upright.

“W-What are you doing?!” Ethan’s voice cracked, eyes wide with panic now, not anger.

Gray’s expression changed, and now, his small smile was gone, as his voice dropped into a low growl.

“Just fucking shut up already.”

And then…

BAAM!

Ethan’s body slammed into the stone floor with monstrous force.

The arena quaked from the impact, dust and stone chips flying into the air.

Crack…

A wet crack echoed, bone giving way, and the sound carried all the way to the top rows of the audience.

The crowd gasped in unison, dozens of hands flying to mouths.

But that still wasn’t enough, and so, Gray descended his foot, grinding against Ethan’s bruised face, forcing his cheek hard against the cracked stone floor.

Grind…

“Forfeit already,” Gray muttered coldly, his tone flat, more bored than enraged. “I’m already tired of this damn battle.”

The pressure increased. Ethan’s teeth rattled. His jaw ached beneath the brutal weight pinning him down. Dust and blood mixed at his lips, choking him.

“NEVER!” Ethan roared through gritted teeth, his voice muffled against the ground.

Gray’s eyes narrowed coldly.

Without another word, he unsheathed his rapier in a single motion.

Schiiing!

And before Ethan could react…

Shhhhk!

The blade pierced cleanly through his shoulder.

“AAAAAGHHHHHHH!!” Ethan’s scream tore through the arena like a wounded animal’s cry, raw and primal.

An ugly squelch followed the sound as Gray twisted the blade inside the flesh. The motion was naturally slow, like stirring a knife through meat.

Blood sprayed in a thin arc, splattering across the stone.

Ethan thrashed violently, his free hand clawing at Gray’s leg, nails dragging lines of red down his skin, but the pressure of Gray’s boot didn’t budge.

“Stop squirming,” Gray said flatly, twisting again.

Crkshhh!

The sickening sound of muscle fibers tearing filled the silence, mingling with Ethan’s high-pitched shrieks.

His entire body convulsed beneath the weight, legs kicking weakly, his cries cracking into hoarse sobs.

“P-Please—AAHHHhhHhh!” Ethan’s words broke apart as Gray gave the blade one final wrench before slowly withdrawing it.

The steel came out dripping, with crimson streaks on its polished surface.

“Hagh… you’re so damn annoying.”

Gray crouched low, his boot grinding harder into Ethan’s chest. His hand shot out, fingers tangling in Ethan’s sweat-soaked hair, yanking his head upward.

Ethan hissed through bloody teeth, his face swollen, nose bent at an ugly angle, lips split open.

His eyes darted in frantic fury, but there was no denying that fear had seeped in.

Gray tilted his head slightly, studying the mess of a face in front of him as if it were nothing more than a broken toy.

“Are you giving up,” Gray asked softly, voice almost mocking in its calmness, “or do you actually want me…”

His voice trailed off as he suddenly remembered something.

Then, just as suddenly, Gray released his grip, letting Ethan’s battered head smack back against the arena floor with a dull thud.

Gray rose, dusting his hands as though Ethan’s blood were dirt he’d grown tired of touching.

A faint, devilish smile curved his lips.

Slowly, he turned to the referee while pressing Ethan’s chest with his feet.

“Is killing allowed?”

The entire arena seemed to still.

The referee, an older man with years of composure, swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly in his throat before he forced out a reply.

“…This is an official match,” he managed, voice wavering.

“So of course… killing is allowed.”

Gray’s grin widened, his teeth catching the light like fangs.

“Sweet.”

He turned back to Ethan, lifting his rapier lazily, crimson droplets running down its tip like falling stars.

But just as the weapon gleamed above him…

“W-WAIT!” Ethan’s voice cracked, louder than any shout he’d made before.

It wasn’t anger this time. It wasn’t even pride.

It was panic.

“I—! I forfeit!!”

The words echoed through the stunned silence of the crowd, carried by the raw edge of desperation.

His eyes bulged, wild and bloodshot, as if begging the universe itself to intervene.

Gasps and whispers rippled across the stands. The proud spear-wielder was brought so low that he had to beg for mercy.

Gray froze mid-motion, his eyes narrowing in cruel satisfaction.

But then, looking at Ethan, Gray leaned down just enough so Ethan could see the smirk playing across his lips.

“Pathetic,” he whispered darkly.

“All that bravado… just to squeal like a pig in the end.”

Ethan’s face twisted in rage and shame, but the medics were already rushing forward.

They carefully pried Gray’s boot from his chest, pulling the battered boy up onto a stretcher.

His screams turned into hoarse groans as they hurried him away, leaving a long, crimson trail across the arena floor.

Gray didn’t spare him another glance.

Instead, he wiped his rapier with two fingers, flicking the blood away before flourishing it with a dramatic spin.

His black eyes gleamed, his grin wide and cruel.

Then, with theatrical grace, he turned to face the crowd and gave a mocking bow, the tip of his rapier tapping against the ground in perfect rhythm.

“Is there anyone,” he said smoothly, voice echoing in the deathly silence, “who wants to challenge me?”

The arena froze.

Not a single voice answered. Not a single hand lifted. Dozens of gazes darted away, avoiding his eyes, as if staring too long would make him choose them.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

Gray smiled faintly at the silence.

But just as he was about to turn away…

“I DOOO!”

The voice ripped across the arena like thunder.

Thump! Thump!

Heavy footsteps echoed as someone stepped boldly onto the cracked stone floor.

The crowd erupted into gasps.

It was Dexter F. Orwald.

The battle maniac from Maelis’s simp group.

His wild grin split his face as he pointed forward, eyes locked on Gray with unrestrained hunger.

Gray’s lips curled ever so slightly, his head tilting slighly.

“Of course…” he muttered, as though this outcome had been inevitable.

His gaze flicked lazily toward the referee.

“Do I have permission?”

The referee, still shaken from the brutality of the last fight, hesitated, but then gave a single, firm nod.

Immediately, his voice rose above the crowd, booming across the arena.

“SECOND MATCH—GRAY VIREUX VERSUS DEXTER F. ORWALD!!”

The crowd roared alive again, cheers and cries shaking the stands.

Gray’s smile sharpened, his rapier gleaming as he raised it slightly.

At the same time, Dexter brought out his twin axes with a hungry smile.

This… would be fun.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep