The word left his lips like a whisper.

Then...

Everything exploded.

Amethyst lightning burst outward from his body in a violent eruption, engulfing everything around him.

The arena was swallowed by a storm of electricity, arcs tearing through the air in every direction.

Vian’s eyes widened.

He raised his arms instinctively, as Light flared.

But—

BOOM—!

The discharge hit him point blank.

The explosion sent both of them backward, their bodies thrown apart by the sheer force of the collision.

Smoke rose. The smell of burnt air filled the arena. For a moment—nothing moved.

Then, Vian slowly lowered his arms. They were terribly scorched.

Burnt almost crisp.

His sleeves were torn, skin blackened and charred where the lightning had struck. He exhaled quietly, his breathing no longer perfectly steady.

Across the arena—Calix stood for a simple second.

Barely.

His body was charred and cut in places, lightning fading weakly around him as his sword slipped from his hand.

While a cruel gash marred through his chest, blood fell freely out of it. His legs gave out.

He collapsed on the stone unconscious.

Silence reigned.

Then—the referee stepped forward.

"Winner... Vian."

The crowd erupted. But this time—

There was something different in the noise.

Not just excitement but respect, because for the first time—Someone had pushed the protagonist that far.

The cheers continued to thunder across the arena, yet within that overwhelming noise, a strange stillness lingered around the center of the ring.

Vian stood there.

Burn marks ran across his arms, his clothes torn and blackened where the lightning had struck. His breathing, though controlled, was no longer perfectly steady.

His gaze lowered.

Toward Calix.

For a moment, he said nothing. The light around him dimmed slowly, fading back into nothing as his blade dissolved into particles of golden shimmer.

"...You really are something," Vian murmured quietly.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t meant for the crowd.

Only for the boy lying unconscious on the broken stone. Around them, healers had already begun rushing into the arena.

The barrier shimmered as it opened slightly, allowing them to enter quickly. Soft green mana began to spread as they checked Calix’s condition, stabilizing the heavy wound across his chest.

"He’s alive!"

"Get him to the infirmary!"

Their voices overlapped in swift urgency.

Above, in the skyboxes...no one spoke.

Adrian’s eyes remained fixed on Calix, a faint crease forming between his brows thinking something.

’Hm, He endured that... and still moved?’

Lunive leaned slightly forward, her usual composure cracked just a little.

"...That was insane."

Anaerah’s hands tightened against the railing. Her chest ached faintly again—but she ignored it completely.

Her gaze didn’t leave Calix.

"Idiot." she whispered under her breath.

Yet her voice trembled.

Even Elowen, who had remained calm throughout every duel, watched silently. Her crimson eyes held a rare flicker of thought.

Because what they had just witnessed. It wasn’t just strength. It was sheer will. Back in the arena, Vian finally turned.

He began walking away from the ring.

No celebration.

No raised hand.

Just quiet steps, but just before he left—He stopped.

"...Next time, let’s make it more fun" he said without turning back, his voice carrying faint traces of joy and surprise.

Then he continued walking. The crowd still roared.

But now, a new name echoed among them.

Name of the mysterious Calix.

The word left his lips like a whisper.

Then...

Everything exploded.

Amethyst lightning burst outward from his body in a violent eruption, engulfing everything around him.

The arena was swallowed by a storm of electricity, arcs tearing through the air in every direction.

Vian’s eyes widened.

He raised his arms instinctively, as Light flared.

But—

BOOM—!

The discharge hit him point blank.

The explosion sent both of them backward, their bodies thrown apart by the sheer force of the collision.

Smoke rose. The smell of burnt air filled the arena. For a moment—nothing moved.

Then, Vian slowly lowered his arms. They were terribly scorched.

Burnt almost crisp.

His sleeves were torn, skin blackened and charred where the lightning had struck. He exhaled quietly, his breathing no longer perfectly steady.

Across the arena—Calix stood for a simple second.

Barely.

His body was charred and cut in places, lightning fading weakly around him as his sword slipped from his hand.

While a cruel gash marred through his chest, blood fell freely out of it. His legs gave out.

He collapsed on the stone unconscious.

Silence reigned.

Then—the referee stepped forward.

"Winner... Vian."

The crowd erupted. But this time—

There was something different in the noise.

Not just excitement but respect, because for the first time—Someone had pushed the protagonist that far.

The cheers continued to thunder across the arena, yet within that overwhelming noise, a strange stillness lingered around the center of the ring.

Vian stood there.

Burn marks ran across his arms, his clothes torn and blackened where the lightning had struck. His breathing, though controlled, was no longer perfectly steady.

His gaze lowered.

Toward Calix.

For a moment, he said nothing. The light around him dimmed slowly, fading back into nothing as his blade dissolved into particles of golden shimmer.

"...You really are something," Vian murmured quietly.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t meant for the crowd.

Only for the boy lying unconscious on the broken stone. Around them, healers had already begun rushing into the arena.

The barrier shimmered as it opened slightly, allowing them to enter quickly. Soft green mana began to spread as they checked Calix’s condition, stabilizing the heavy wound across his chest.

"He’s alive!"

"Get him to the infirmary!"

Their voices overlapped in swift urgency.

Above, in the skyboxes...no one spoke.

Adrian’s eyes remained fixed on Calix, a faint crease forming between his brows thinking something.

’Hm, He endured that... and still moved?’

Lunive leaned slightly forward, her usual composure cracked just a little.

"...That was insane."

Anaerah’s hands tightened against the railing. Her chest ached faintly again—but she ignored it completely.

Her gaze didn’t leave Calix.

"Idiot." she whispered under her breath.

Yet her voice trembled.

Even Elowen, who had remained calm throughout every duel, watched silently. Her crimson eyes held a rare flicker of thought.

Because what they had just witnessed. It wasn’t just strength. It was sheer will. Back in the arena, Vian finally turned.

He began walking away from the ring.

No celebration.

No raised hand.

Just quiet steps, but just before he left—He stopped.

"...Next time, let’s make it more fun" he said without turning back, his voice carrying faint traces of joy and surprise.

Then he continued walking. The crowd still roared.