REINCARNATION OF THE STRONGEST WAR HERO-Chapter 106: ENDLESS SURPRISES

"Woah... he’s really strong."

From behind a pillar, Daliah continued watching the sparring with her adorable blue eyes like starlight frozen in time.

She couldn’t even blink—afraid she might miss something.

And up on the veranda, the servants—and even the guards near the main gates—who had initially started watching with doubt, were now fully entranced.

They had forgotten about everything else, eyes fixed solely on the sparring match.

The fight no longer looked like a simple duel.

It felt so unreal, like a story pulled straight out of a mythological epic. A kid fighting the the third prince, who had reached tier three before even twenty.

"That kid...

He is actually going toe-to-toe with the prince." Everyone had the same exact thought.

"So this wasn’t the third prince being cruel and bullying a kid.

This was real. They wanted to compete with each other"

Logan slowly stood back up from the ground, brushing the dirt off his chest and clothes.

"Rowan," he said with a short breath,

"There’s not a single second to relax when I’m up against you."

Rowan laughed.

"Told you, didn’t I?

I might not win the match... but I’m not exactly a pushover either."

Logan smirked.

"Is that so?

Alright then—next time, try landing a hit one more time."

At first, Logan had agreed to this spar only to humor Rowan’s request.

He hadn’t planned on taking it seriously.

But something about Rowan’s relentless drive, especially that last lightning-charged strike.. it didn’t demand effort from Logan.

It simply pulled it out of him.

Like a contagious flame...

one that made him want to push forward with everything he had.

The two rushed at each other again.

Rowan began casting a spell again—

but this time, Logan didn’t give him the chance.

He sprinted forward in a blur, closing the gap between them before Rowan could even finish his casting.

Logan knew full well—

when it came to raw magical power and mana capacity, Rowan was leagues above him.

Overpowering him with just spells wasn’t realistic.

So he made a decision—

he’d take the fight to close combat,

where his real advantage—his internal energy—could shine.

Logan closed the distance and reached Rowan in an instant—

then threw a punch.

Rowan was mid-cast, still forming his spell, but Logan’s sudden charge broke his focus.

He had no choice but to dodge the punch and leap back to create some distance.

But Logan didn’t let up.

He charged again, this time with a lightning-infused fist.

Rowan, left with no other option, was forced to engage in close combat as well.

He met Logan’s strike head-on, swinging his own lightning-charged punch—

and the moment their fists moved, a visible ripple surged through the air.

Everyone watching—from the sidelines to the distant balconies and the main gate—

felt it.

The sheer power behind their clash.

The weight in that last blow.

And the tension in every movement.

The two kept trading punches—

sometimes channeling lightning, sometimes fire, and even water.

Each strike faster and heavier than the last.

At one point, Rowan lunged with a flaming fist, but Logan ducked beneath it and twisted his body—

then countered with a hook punch aimed at Rowan’s lower ribs, his own fist crackling with lightning.

Rowan quickly lifted his knee, blocking the strike—

then retaliated by slamming both palms into Logan’s chest with full force.

Boom!

Logan was blasted backward, skidding nearly ten meters across the ground.

But neither of them stayed motionless.

The moment he stopped, both fighters lunged again, meeting at the center in another thunderous clash.

And then again, and again.

Suddenly...

an idea sparked in Logan’s mind.

As Rowan hurled his next punch,

Logan didn’t respond with fire or lightning this time—

instead, he channeled air.

But not to boost his speed or enhance his strikes.

He created a small vacuum in front of his fist.

The moment Rowan’s punch entered inside it,

its momentum dropped a lot—the power behind it reduced as well.

Logan reacted instantly.

He opened his fist and grabbed Rowan’s slowed fist mid-air—

then, with his other hand, delivered a devastating lightning punch straight to Rowan’s ribs.

This time, Rowan was the one sent flying,

skidding across the ground as the shock rippled through his body.

The crowd was stunned. Gilbert in particular. He knew how capable and quick witted the third prince was. But him being pushed back several times like this was too much for him to digest.

Rowan stood up straight.

He’d been hit—but there was no frustration or disappointment on his face.

Instead, a faint smile appeared on his lips.

From behind the pillar, Daliah saw it clearly.

Others might have missed the subtle change in his expression,

but she didn’t.

She was certain—

her brother was enjoying this.

"What was that?" Rowan asked, brushing dust off his arm.

"It felt like something in the air suddenly drained my strength and slowed me down.

Was that gravity magic again?"

Even though he suspected it wasn’t, he still wanted to confirm it directly from Logan.

"Nope. Not gravity," Logan replied honestly.

"It was air magic."

"Oh?!" He was taken aback at first. "Nice technique." Rowan then nodded with interest.

"Why didn’t you use that in the tournament?"

"Because this was actually the first time I tried it."

Logan gave a small shrug.

"I wasn’t sure it would even work—but I guess I got lucky." He replied.

"What!" This casual revelation shocked Rowan even more.

Rowan had asked purely out of curiosity.

He had expected Logan to say something like, "I didn’t want to reveal all my cards yet."

But this answer?

He didn’t see it coming at all.

Rowan chuckled.

"Logan, do your surprises ever run out? At this rate, I feel like even if I interrogated you for a lifetime, your wonders won’t ever stop popping out."

Even he couldn’t help but laugh as he said it.

It felt like too much.

A person was watching the whole fight from a window of a room with disbelief in his eyes.

It was Elias Hale.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fre𝒆webnove(l).𝐜𝐨𝗺