"Haa... haa..."

Calix’s grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles turning pale as the strain ran through his body.

Sweat mixed with blood, trailing down his jaw and dripping onto the cracked arena floor beneath him. Each breath he took felt heavy—ragged, uneven, as if his lungs were burning from the constant surge of mana.

His entire body ached.

Every muscle screamed in protest from being forced beyond its limit. The lightning he had been channeling wasn’t just power—it was pressure, tearing through his veins, demanding more than his body was built to handle.

And yet—

His eyes remained sharp and unwavering.

They locked onto the figure standing across from him.

Vian stood in front, calm and composed.

If one ignored the faint cuts on his cheek and shoulder, he looked almost untouched.

His breathing was steady, his posture relaxed, his blade still glowing faintly with that controlled, radiant light.

The difference was clear.

Calix exhaled slowly, a faint, almost breathless chuckle escaping his lips.

"...Damn," he muttered under his breath.

This was it. The gap between them...it wasn’t just strength. No, it was how easily Vian held it all together.

For a brief moment, Calix lowered his blade slightly, letting the tip hover just above the ground.

Lightning flickered weakly around him now—not gone, but unstable, like a storm losing its shape.

’So this is the level...the level of the protagonist.’ His thoughts were calm despite the exhaustion.

There was neither frustration nor despair.

Just... an understanding.

He adjusted his grip again, as the sword rose once more. Lightning responded to him.

This time weak yet slightly more controlled.

Calix took a step forward, staggering for a moment. Across from him, Vian finally shifted.

Just slightly, his eyes sharpening.

"You’re still standing," Vian said quietly.

There was no mockery in his voice.

Only acknowledgment and somehow joy which Calix couldn’t understand.

Calix smirked faintly, blood staining the corner of his lips.

"...Ah well, endurance is one of the few things that I am confident about." A faint spark of amethyst flickered in his eyes, as he said those words.

"Haha yeah, i could see that clearly. It’s a real shame, you are of lower rank than me. Otherwise, it would have been even more fun." Vian said laughing.

"I wonder about that." Calix replied.

For a moment, both of them went quiet. The arena was also quiet with not a single being moving from their seats.

Then Vian exhaled.

"Well then, shall we finish it?" Vian said, his sword now glowing brighter than at any point in the duel.

The light around him intensified, not wild, not overflowing—but perfectly contained, as if every ounce of power had been sharpened into a single purpose named winning.

"Sure... let’s get this over with," Calix replied.

His voice was steady, his eyes burning with a fierce determination.

Lightning gathered around him once more, weak yet no longer chaotic, no longer spreading outward. It coiled tightly along his limbs and blade, dense and violent, like a storm compressed into a single point.

For a moment—Everything stilled.

Then they moved, both of them at once.

The arena floor shattered beneath their feet as they shot forward, gold and violet streaks colliding in a blur too fast for the normal eyes to follow.

Their blades met again with a deafening clash, sending sparks of light and arcs of lightning bursting outwards filled with extreme power.

This time, there was no testing between them, there was no hesitation.

Every strike was lethal and fatal.

Calix swung his sword first, his blade cutting low before rising sharply straight towards Vian’s shoulder.

Vian intercepted immediately, his light blade redirecting the strike with perfect timing before countering instantly with a sharp thrust.

Calix twisted his body.

The blade grazed past his side. Instantly he also retaliated. A fast, brutal slash aimed directly at Vian’s midsection however once again it was blocked.

Countered.

Returned.

The exchange between them became a storm. Steel rang again and again, their bodies moving in perfect sync yet complete opposition.

Every movement was matched, every opening answered, every mistake punished. But slowly, the difference finally showed.

Calix’s breathing grew heavier.

His movements, though still sharp, began to slow by fractions, fractions that mattered.

Vian saw it immediately, his eyes narrowing.

Light flared, as he stepped in faster than before.

Calix tried to react, but his body didn’t move at time, until it was too late. Vian’s blade slipped through his guard.

A clean strike marked.

It cut across Calix’s chest, the force behind it sending him stumbling backward as more blood spilled freely on the ground.

The crowd was still.

But Vian didn’t stop. He raised his blade.

Light gathered.

Brighter.

Sharper.

The entire arena seemed to dim in comparison as that single point of light condensed at the edge of his weapon.

It was a finishing move and Calix saw it.

More than that he felt it, as his body and instincts screamed at him. And in that instant as if deciding something he...

He stepped forward, one last time.

Vian’s hand also moved. A single, decisive strike played and the blade of light descended.

It connected.

The impact was overwhelming.

Calix’s body jerked as the strike tore through him, light exploding outward on contact. His vision blurred instantly, pain flooding through his entire being.

The match was over...or it should have ended there.

But—in that same instant—Calix also didn’t stop.

Somehow, through instinct...hrough sheer will.

Through something deeper in him.

He closed the distance. His body stepped forward even as it broke, and finally lightning surged.

Not controlled.

Not refined.

This time pure wild and feral.

"Discharge."

Sjsh sbsn

Through something deeper in him.

He closed the distance. His body stepped forward even as it broke, and finally lightning surged.

Not controlled.

Not refined.

This time pure wild and feral.

"Discharge."

Sjsh sbsn

Through something deeper in him.

He closed the distance. His body stepped forward even as it broke, and finally lightning surged.

Not controlled.

Not refined.

This time pure wild and feral.

"Discharge."

Sjsh sbsn