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Chapter 250: Congratulations

The moment Lucavion spoke, Valeria felt a flicker of warmth settle in her chest, a feeling she wasn't entirely used to. Of course, he knew. He always knew. That was the infuriating—and oddly reassuring—thing about him.

"Congratulations… for finally breaking through your bottleneck…" His voice was low, smooth, carrying that infuriating mix of certainty and casualness. Yet, there was something unspoken beneath the words, something that hinted at a deeper understanding of her struggles.

Valeria's grip tightened momentarily on her Zweihander, her gaze steady on him. She could feel her heart swelling, not with pride, but with a subtle contentment. Somehow, his acknowledgment made her victory feel more grounded, more real.

"You knew," she said, her tone neutral, though there was a faint edge of accusation in her words. "You knew what was holding me back."

Lucavion's smirk deepened, though his eyes softened slightly. "Heh? How could I not when it's written all over you? Every time you took a swing, every time you hesitated—it wasn't your blade's fault, Valeria. It was yours. Or rather, your doubts'."

She huffed softly, averting her gaze for a moment. She didn't want to admit it aloud, but he was right. He always was.

Lucavion's eyes flickered down to her side, where blood seeped from her wound, staining her armor. His expression shifted, the teasing air giving way to something far more serious. Without waiting for her permission, he stepped closer, reaching into his spatial ring.

"Hold still," he murmured, pulling out a small vial filled with a shimmering blue potion.

Valeria raised an eyebrow but didn't move. She watched as he uncorked the vial with practiced ease and poured the liquid gently over her wound. The potion glimmered faintly as it seeped into her skin, cool and soothing, its magic knitting her torn flesh together with an efficiency that spoke to its quality.

Lucavion's hand hovered over the wound, his fingers tracing near the edges, radiating a faint warmth that sped up the process. To her surprise, it didn't hurt. Instead, his touch was firm but careful, deliberate yet strangely gentle.

"You can finally reach the fourth star now, can't you?" he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. His gaze didn't leave her wound as he worked. "With this, the thing holding you back is finally gone."

Valeria's breath hitched slightly at his words. He wasn't wrong. The newfound clarity coursing through her, the steady hum of her mana—it was all a testament to the truth of his statement. She felt as though she could break through the star level right there in the moment. But she also knew the risks of rushing such an important transition.

Lucavion glanced up, meeting her gaze with an intensity that made her pause. "Don't rush it," he said, as if reading her thoughts. "Star-level breakthroughs require more than just power. You need to be ready. Stable."

She nodded once, her expression composed but her mind racing. "I know. I'll prepare."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. His hand lingered a second longer on her side, ensuring the potion's effects were complete before he finally stepped back.

"Efficient," Valeria muttered, her eyes flicking to his hand before returning to his face. There was no teasing in her tone, just quiet acknowledgment.

Lucavion's smirk returned, though it was softer now. "I do my best."

Valeria let out a soft exhale, her shoulders easing just slightly. She felt lighter, not just physically, but in a way she couldn't quite put into words. The golden light around her flickered faintly as if echoing her inner calm.

"Thank you," she said quietly, the words simple yet sincere.

Lucavion chuckled, turning slightly as if to leave but pausing just long enough to glance back at her. "There is no need to thank me. I didn't do anything special."

Valeria's eyes lingered on him, her expression calm, though her thoughts churned beneath the surface. She knew better than to argue.

'No, of course, you wouldn't see it that way. You never do.'

Her gaze dipped briefly, catching the faint glimmer of the potion residue still clinging to his fingertips before returning to his face.

'But that doesn't make it any less true, does it? Every word, every action, even the way you treat life like some reckless game—it all carries weight. Whether you realize it or not.'

She straightened slightly, allowing her posture to settle into one of quiet composure.

'You were always there, weren't you? A quiet force, shaping my path in ways I never understood until now. Watching you, training beside you, even enduring your insufferable comments—all of it.'

Her thoughts paused, softening.

'It was all part of the reason I was able to stand in that arena today.'

The thought made her chest tighten, a strange mix of gratitude and resolve swelling within her. Whether Lucavion knew the effect he had or simply moved through life oblivious to it didn't matter. At the end of the day, his presence had shaped her, pushed her, forced her to see beyond her limits. And for that, she would always be grateful.

But as her eyes traced the faint smirk still tugging at his lips, she understood something else.

'You're not the type to accept that kind of acknowledgment, are you? It's not about the credit for you. It's just who you are.'

She allowed a small smile to touch her lips, brief and subtle enough that it might have been missed. "If that's what you prefer," she said softly, almost to herself.

Lucavion tilted his head, his expression unreadable, though his gaze sharpened as if catching something unsaid. But he didn't press her. Instead, he stepped back further, giving her space as his tone turned light again. "Good. Wouldn't want you getting all sentimental on me, Lady Olarion."

Valeria huffed softly, shaking her head, the faintest glimmer of amusement crossing her features. "Not a chance."

But even as the words left her lips, she tucked away her thoughts, sealing them tightly where they belonged.

'Fine. You don't need to know, Lucavion. You don't need to hear it from me.'

Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer.

'But I'll carry it with me. Every word, every lesson, every infuriating smirk of yours. Because they matter, even if you won't admit it.'

And so, she let the silence settle between them as the faint golden light around her flickered again, a quiet echo of the clarity she now carried. With a small nod, she turned away, leaving Lucavion leaning casually against the wall, his presence as steady and constant as ever.

After all, she needed to ready herself for the breakthrough that she would be going through today.

'Before the fight….Tomorrow, I need to make sure.'

Valeria's steps echoed softly as she made her way down the quiet corridor, the cheers of the crowd fading into the distance. The weight of her Zweihander, though familiar, felt heavier now—not from exhaustion, but from the realization of what lay ahead. She tightened her grip on its hilt, her thoughts sharpening as she replayed the events of the day.

'Zerah was strong, but she wasn't at the peak. A 3-star like me. That's the only reason I was able to endure as I did.'

She clenched her jaw, her pace steady as her mind churned.

'But now, only the strongest remain. The semifinals will bring challengers unlike any I've faced before. I can't stall anymore.'

She ticked off the names in her head, her gaze fixed forward.

'Lucavion, Varen, Lira, the Monk…'

Each name carried weight, their reputations preceding them.

'All of them have reached the fourth star. Their strength isn't just in their techniques or their discipline—it's in the sheer difference of power that comes with advancing to that level.'

Her shoulders tensed briefly before she forced them to relax.

'I was fortunate to face Zerah, but fortune won't carry me any further. If I want to stand a chance—no, if I want to win—I have to break through.'

The thought sent a ripple of anticipation through her, mingled with a trace of apprehension. A breakthrough wasn't something to take lightly, especially between star levels. Preparation was everything; it wasn't just about reaching the next stage of power, but stabilizing it, mastering the surge of energy and the heightened connection to her mana.

She paused at the doorway to her quarters, her hand brushing the frame. The golden light from her earlier revelation still flickered faintly within her, but she knew it wasn't enough. Not yet.

'Tomorrow. I need to be ready.'

As she stepped inside, her thoughts sharpened further. She began laying out her plan in her mind.

'The enlightenment today—it's already started the process. My mana feels different, more refined, more alive. But I'll need to focus, meditate, and ensure my energy is stable before I make the push.'

Her eyes drifted to her Zweihander as she set it down gently against the wall. Its blade, dulled by the day's battle, still gleamed faintly in the lamplight. It had carried her through countless trials, a steadfast companion, but she knew that tomorrow, it wouldn't be enough to rely on her weapon alone.

Her thoughts wandered briefly to the opponents she would soon face. Lucavion's smirk flickered in her mind, as did the memory of his confident stance during their previous matches. His strength wasn't just physical—it was in the way he read his opponents, the way he seemed to see through every façade and weakness. She frowned.

'He's already beyond me. And the others…'

She recalled Varen's commanding presence, Lira's fluidity, and the Monk's quiet, unnerving strength.

'They'll all push me further than I've ever been pushed before.'

But as daunting as the thought was, a quiet determination burned within her.

'I've come too far to stop now. I'll stand among them—not just as a knight, but as an equal.'

She sank to the floor, crossing her legs and closing her eyes. The steady hum of her mana filled her senses as she began to focus inward, the world around her fading. She visualized the bottleneck she had carried for so long, that invisible wall that had kept her from advancing. And now, she saw the cracks forming in it, illuminated by the golden light of her resolve.

'Tomorrow,'

she thought again, her focus narrowing to a single point.

'I will break through. And I will stand among the strongest.'

The room fell silent, save for the faint rhythm of her breathing as she began her preparation.

Chapter 251: Named ?

The day drew to a close under the fading sunlight, the arena still buzzing with energy and chatter despite the conclusion of the quarterfinals. The crowd had witnessed fierce battles, but none had left a more lasting impression than the match between Zerah of the Cloud Heavens Sect and Valeria Olarion.

Zerah had fought with every ounce of her strength, her movements sharp and precise, her techniques honed quite well.

Her strikes were relentless, each one fueled by the pride of her sect and the desire to prove herself. But Valeria had matched her blow for blow, her resilience and adaptability pushing Zerah to her limits.

In the end, it was Valeria who claimed victory. Her final, decisive strike had cut through Zerah's guard, leaving the Cloud Heaven disciple sprawled on the ground, her chest heaving from the effort.

The crowd roared in approval, but there was no mockery in their cheers—only respect for the battle they had witnessed.

That is why, back in the Cloud Heavens Sect's side, the mood was somber but not bitter. The disciples sat together, their expressions thoughtful as they reflected on the match. Zerah stood near the window, her posture tense as she stared out at the city. The sting of her defeat lingered, but it was tempered by the knowledge that she had fought well.

Behind her, Elder Xue entered the room, her presence commanding immediate attention. The disciples straightened instinctively, their gazes following her as she approached Zerah.

Zerah turned, bowing deeply. "Elder Xue," she began, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest. "I apologize for—"

"Enough," Xue interrupted, her tone firm but not harsh. "There is nothing to apologize for."

Zerah blinked, momentarily stunned. She straightened cautiously, meeting Xue's gaze.

"You fought well," Xue continued, her sharp eyes appraising. "Your performance today was among the finest we've seen from this sect in years. Aside from Lira, you have shown the greatest promise in this tournament."

The disciples murmured in agreement, their earlier tension easing. Even Lira, seated calmly to the side, gave Zerah a small nod of acknowledgment.

Xue's gaze softened, just slightly, as she addressed Zerah directly. "You were not defeated because you were weak, but because your opponent was strong. Valeria Olarion is no ordinary fighter. She carries not only her own strength but the legacy of her family. And yet, you pushed her to the edge."

Zerah's chest swelled with a mix of pride and relief. Though the loss still stung, Xue's words were a balm to her wounded pride.

"This defeat," Xue continued, her tone growing sharper, "is not the end of your journey. It is merely a step. Learn from it. Use it to refine your techniques, to strengthen your resolve. That is how you will surpass even those who bested you today."

"Yes, Elder," Zerah said, her voice resolute as she bowed her head again. "I will."

"Good." Satisfied, Xue turned to the arena again. "With this, we will already have one disciple in finals. Lira should have no problem reaching there."

The atmosphere in the arena shifted as the announcer called the next match. All eyes turned to the two combatants stepping onto the stage: Lira Vaelan, the Silent Thunder of the Cloud Heavens Sect, and Maelis Arvon, her fellow disciple. The crowd murmured in anticipation, not of the outcome—everyone assumed Lira would win—but to witness the precision and grace of her legendary swordsmanship.

In the Cloud Heavens Sect's viewing area, the disciples watched with eager anticipation, their confidence in Lira unshaken.

"Senior Sister Lira will breeze through this round," one of them remarked, folding his arms with a smug expression. "Maelis is skilled, but she's no match for the Silent Thunder."

Another disciple nodded. "Exactly. And after that? There's no way she'll lose to any of these stinky men—Varen or that rogue Lucavion. They don't hold a candle to her strength or discipline."

"She'll crush Valeria too, if it comes to that," added a younger disciple, her voice filled with admiration. "Valeria might've shown some promise, but she's only a 3-star warrior. Senior Sister Lira is leagues ahead."

Their words were full of reverence and confidence, reflecting the unshakable belief they had in Lira's abilities. Even Zerah, nursing her bruised pride from her earlier defeat, nodded quietly in agreement. Despite her personal dislike for Lira's calculated demeanor, there was no denying the senior disciple's strength.

Elder Xue, standing at the edge of the viewing area, didn't respond to their chatter, though her eyes were firmly fixed on the arena. She too had full confidence in Lira's ability, but her silence carried an air of expectation, a quiet belief that this match—and the next—would be mere stepping stones for her disciple.

********

On the arena floor, Lira and Maelis faced each other, their expressions calm but focused. For Lira, this was just another step toward the finals, and she carried herself with the unshakable poise of someone who had already envisioned her victory. Maelis, however, wore a faintly nervous smile, well aware of the gap between them.

"Senior Sister," Maelis said respectfully, her voice steady despite her apprehension. "It's an honor to face you."

Lira inclined her head, her tone cool but sincere. "You've grown, Maelis. Show me what you've learned."

The referee signaled the start of the match, and Maelis wasted no time. She surged forward, her blade flashing as she unleashed a flurry of strikes meant to keep Lira on the defensive. But Lira didn't flinch. Her movements were fluid, her sword parrying each strike with effortless precision. Every step she took was deliberate, every counter-measured.

The crowd watched in awe as Lira began to turn the tide. Maelis' attacks, while skillful, became increasingly frantic as she tried to land even a single blow.

But Lira's mastery was evident—her footwork, timing, and economy of movement left no openings.

And then, in a flash, it was over. Lira's blade struck with surgical precision, disarming Maelis and bringing the match to a decisive end. The crowd erupted into applause, and even Maelis couldn't help but smile ruefully as she bowed in defeat.

"Thank you, Senior Sister," Maelis said softly. "You've shown me how far I still have to go."

Lira nodded, her expression calm but not unkind. "You fought well. Keep training, and you'll continue to grow."

*******

Back in the Cloud Heavens Sect's viewing area, the disciples erupted in cheers, their earlier confidence fully justified.

"As expected of Senior Sister Lira!" one of them exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically. "She's unstoppable."

"Of course," another disciple said, grinning. "No one here can match her strength or discipline. The finals are as good as hers."

"And once she wins, it'll prove that the Cloud Heavens Sect remains unrivaled," added another, their voice brimming with pride. "None of these brutes—Varen, Lucavion—or even Valeria stand a chance."

Elder Xue allowed a faint smile to touch her lips as she listened to their chatter. "Lira has upheld the dignity of our sect well," she said, her tone measured. "But the finals are still ahead. Let us not grow complacent."

Even as she spoke, her eyes shifted to Lucavion, seated calmly on the opposite side of the arena. Valeria who had been beside him all the time was nowhere to be seen.

However, no one dared to do anything to the contestants of the tournament as they were protected by the Marquis.

The Cloud Heavens Sect had already pulled some strings to give an ultimatum to inn owners, and anything other than that would be an act of going against the authority of the Marquis, which Xue wouldn't be able to take responsibility for.

Though her confidence in Lira was absolute, Xue was not one to dismiss potential threats. She knew better than to underestimate the unpredictable nature of combat—or the motivations of those who fought with nothing to lose.

Still, as Lira returned to the viewing area, her expression as calm as ever, Xue felt a sense of pride. The Silent Thunder had proven herself once again, and the path to the championship seemed more certain than ever.

******

The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a fiery glow across the arena as the anticipation reached its peak. The quarterfinals had delivered one electrifying match after another, but now the final match of the day was about to begin—a clash that had the crowd murmuring with excitement and speculation.

"Lucavion… the Phantom Blade, against Joel Rythan of the Silver Flame Sect," the announcer's voice echoed through the arena, carrying the weight of the moment.

Lucavion was the first to step into the arena. His movements were calm, deliberate, and unhurried, exuding a quiet confidence that immediately captured the crowd's attention. There was no wasted motion, no showmanship—just an air of unshakable composure. The cheers and murmurs of the audience washed over him like distant noise as he strode to the center of the battleground, his estoc resting at his side.

His black cloak swayed slightly in the evening breeze, and his sharp, focused eyes scanned the arena without emotion. The stark contrast of his unaffiliated status against the prestige of the sects made him all the more intriguing to the spectators. He was a wildcard, a fighter with no ties, standing as an enigma amid a sea of tradition and hierarchy.

'Joel Rythan,'

Lucavion thought, his mind already turning over what he knew of his opponent. The Silver Flame Sect's representative was renowned for his brute strength and flame-infused techniques, an aggressive style that overwhelmed many opponents.

'A direct fighter. This will be… amusing.'

Since this was the first time he would be facing one of the disciples of the Silver Flame Sect, after all.

'And a named character from the novel…..though just a side one.'

He was amused.

Chapter 252: Arrogance

The announcer's voice rose again, this time with a hint of dramatic flair. "And now, his opponent! Representing the esteemed Silver Flame Sect, Joel Rythan!"

A roar erupted from the crowd as Joel stepped into the arena. A tall, broad-shouldered man with fiery red hair and a confident smirk, Joel exuded raw power. His silver and red robes, embroidered with the flame emblem of his sect, caught the light as he raised his sword—a massive greatsword wreathed in faint, flickering flames—earning another wave of cheers from the audience.

Unlike Lucavion, Joel played to the crowd, basking in their adoration as he made his way to the center of the arena. His presence was loud, commanding, and brimming with confidence.

But when his eyes finally met Lucavion's, his smirk faltered, just for a moment. There was something in Lucavion's steady, unyielding gaze that unsettled him—a calmness that spoke of absolute control as if Lucavion was already a step ahead.

The announcer, sensing the tension, raised his voice to a crescendo. "The Phantom Blade versus the Inferno Titan! A clash of styles, of power and precision! Let the final match of the day… begin!"

The crowd erupted into cheers as the two fighters faced off. Lucavion's hand rested lightly on the hilt of his estoc, his stance relaxed but perfectly balanced. Across from him, Joel planted his greatsword into the ground with a flourish, the flames along its edge flickering and growing brighter as he infused it with mana.

Joel grinned, his voice carrying across the arena. "You've made it far for someone unaffiliated. I'll give you that. But this is where your luck runs out."

Lucavion tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Luck?" he echoed, his tone calm and measured. "You'll find I don't rely on something as fleeting as that."

The air between them grew heavy as they prepared to engage, the weight of the match pressing down on the arena. The crowd leaned forward in anticipation, eager to see how this battle of opposites would unfold.

The arena was alive with anticipation, the crowd's energy reaching a fever pitch as the announcer began the countdown.

"Five…"

Lucavion stood motionless, his estoc raised and steady. His eyes remained locked on Joel, his expression calm but focused. A faint shadowy aura began to swirl around him, dark and intangible, as if the very air around him was bending to his presence.

"Four…"

Across from him, Joel shifted his stance, flames licking at his fists and trailing along his greatsword. His fiery aura flared brighter with each passing moment, the mana coursing through his body creating waves of heat that rippled outward. His eyes burned with determination, his teeth clenched in a grimace of both focus and disdain.

"Three…"

'This is my chance,'

Joel thought, his muscles tensing as he prepared to launch forward. His dislike for Lucavion simmered just below the surface. From the start, Joel had found the way Lucavion fought infuriatingly. The calm, almost mocking demeanor, the way he got under people's skin—it was everything Joel despised.

"Two…"

To Joel, talent like Lucavion's didn't excuse his attitude. And he had made up his mind—he would be the one to eliminate this irritating enigma, this Phantom Blade who seemed to revel in provoking everyone around him.

"One…"

The moment the announcer reached zero, Joel blasted forward like a missile, his flames roaring to life around him. The fiery mana surged through his body, propelling him at an incredible speed as he closed the gap between them. His greatsword, wreathed in swirling flames, was ready to strike, and his fists burned with an intensity that could melt steel.

SWOOSH!

Lucavion didn't flinch. His blade remained raised, his body enveloped in the faint, shadowy aura that seemed to pulse in rhythm with his calm breaths. The dark energy cloaked him, its presence subtle but menacing, contrasting sharply with Joel's explosive flames.

The crowd roared as the clash began, Joel's fiery charge bearing down on Lucavion like an unstoppable force. But Lucavion's eyes gleamed, unshaken by the inferno rushing toward him.

The fight was on.

*******

The fight exploded into motion as Joel's fiery charge collided with Lucavion's poised defense. The arena seemed to shimmer with the heat of Joel's flames, the fiery mana enveloping him surging outward like a living inferno.

His 4-star aura radiated power, and the flames around him danced with a deadly precision that reflected his will. He wasted no time, pressing Lucavion with relentless, blazing strikes.

Lucavion met the assault head-on, his estoc moving with no wasted movement. Each clash of their weapons sent sparks flying, Joel's greatsword's fiery edge crackling against the cold, shadowy aura that surrounded Lucavion.

CLANG! WHOOSH!

Joel's blade swung in a wide arc, flames trailing behind it in a searing crescent. Lucavion stepped back just enough to avoid the edge of the strike, his body shifting fluidly to reposition. But Joel pressed forward, his flames expanding around him like a second weapon, reaching for Lucavion even when his blade didn't.

"You're not escaping this time!" Joel roared, his voice filled with fiery determination. The flames around him surged forward in a controlled blast, aiming to engulf Lucavion entirely.

Lucavion's shadowy aura rippled in response, his estoc slicing through the incoming flames with an almost casual efficiency.

His movements were calm, and calculated, as if he were a shadow gliding through Joel's inferno. Each step was deliberate, his blade weaving through the chaos with a grace that defied the overwhelming power of Joel's attack.

Joel's brow furrowed as he intensified his assault. He knew he lacked the refinement of a swordsman's intent, but he compensated with his unparalleled control over his flames. The fiery tendrils around him twisted and turned, striking at Lucavion from multiple angles. His greatsword came down with a thunderous crash, flames bursting outward in an attempt to overwhelm his opponent.

But Lucavion remained unshaken. He parried the greatsword's heavy strikes with precision, his estoc deflecting the force of the blows while his shadowy aura absorbed the heat and dissipated the flames that threatened to overwhelm him.

'His control is good,'

Lucavion mused inwardly, his sharp eyes analyzing Joel's movements.

'But he's overreaching… relying too much on the flames to compensate for the gaps in his swordsmanship.'

Joel's attacks were powerful, relentless, and well-coordinated, but they lacked the finesse of a true swordsman. His 4-star aura blazed brightly, and his flames moved as if they were an extension of his body, but Lucavion could see the flaws—the moments where Joel's reliance on sheer force and flame manipulation left him vulnerable.

"You're persistent," Lucavion said calmly, sidestepping another fiery slash and countering with a quick thrust of his estoc that forced Joel to retreat. "But raw power without control will only take you so far."

Joel growled, his frustration evident. "And yet, I'm still standing!" He swung his greatsword in a sweeping arc, flames erupting outward in a wide wave that threatened to consume the entire space between them.

Lucavion's shadowy aura flared slightly, and with a quick step forward, he sliced through the incoming flames, dissipating them in an instant. His movements were efficient, each strike of his blade perfectly timed to neutralize Joel's fiery assault.

The crowd watched in awe as the clash unfolded, the stark contrast between Joel's aggressive, flame-infused attacks and Lucavion's calm, precise defense creating a spectacle that left them on the edge of their seats.

Despite Joel's overwhelming presence, it was Lucavion's measured movements and unshakable composure that dominated the flow of the battle.

Joel gritted his teeth, the flames around him intensifying as he tried to break through Lucavion's defenses. But no matter how much power he poured into his strikes, no matter how skillfully he manipulated his flames, he couldn't land a decisive blow.

"You're infuriating!" Joel shouted, his flames roaring higher as he swung his greatsword with all his might.

Lucavion's smirk widened as he sidestepped yet again, his estoc gliding through the air to deflect Joel's blade. "And you're predictable," he replied, his tone cool and cutting.

SWOOSH! SWOOSH!

Lucavion moved like a shadow through the battlefield, his feet gliding effortlessly across the ground as he stayed just outside Joel's range. He didn't merely defend or block; he danced around Joel's attacks, weaving through the fiery onslaught with an elegance that left the crowd breathless.

SWOOSH! CLANG!

Joel's greatsword roared through the air, flames trailing behind each strike, but Lucavion was already gone by the time the blade reached its mark. He sidestepped, ducked, pivoted—his movements were as precise as they were fluid. His estoc darted in and out like a serpent's fang, each quick thrust targeting small openings in Joel's guard.

STAB!

Lucavion's blade found Joel's side, a shallow but well-placed cut that forced Joel to recoil. Another thrust aimed at his leg scraped against Joel's fiery aura, keeping him off balance. Each strike was deliberate, designed not to deal decisive damage but to wear Joel down, to chip away at his composure.

"Stop running!" Joel roared, flames surging around him as he swung his greatsword in a wild arc. But Lucavion wasn't running—he was controlling the fight, dictating its rhythm with the ease of a conductor leading an orchestra.

"You call this running?" Lucavion quipped, his voice calm as he sidestepped yet another fiery slash. His estoc flicked out, grazing Joel's shoulder before retreating. "I'd call it teaching."

Joel's flames burned hotter, his frustration mounting as Lucavion continued to outmaneuver him. Each strike of his greatsword felt heavier, his mana reserves dwindling as he tried in vain to pin Lucavion down.

'He's… untouchable,' Joel thought, sweat dripping down his brow as he tried to anticipate Lucavion's next move. But Lucavion was always a step ahead, his blade darting in to land another precise thrust before retreating just as quickly.

STAB!

Another shallow cut on Joel's thigh.

SLICE!

A glancing blow across his arm.

Lucavion's strikes were like needles, each one small but cumulative, wearing Joel down little by little. The crowd watched in awe as the Phantom Blade demonstrated his mastery, his estoc moving with blinding speed and precision.