Brutas’s mace swept toward Ronan’s legs.

From Elara’s view, it looked like Ronan had finally made a mistake.

Elara stood halfway from her seat without realizing it, fear gripping her chest.

The attack was about to connect.

Then Ronan turned toward the mace instead of away from it.

Elara froze.

For one instant, she thought he had lost his mind.

Then Ronan burst into flames.

His body blurred into fire, leaving behind a flame afterimage exactly where Brutas’s mace struck.

The mace tore through the burning image, and Brutas’s strike continued through empty air.

The crowd went silent.

Elara’s couldn’t understand what had happened.

Ronan appeared behind Brutas somehow. Some kind of deception technique? From the Ashbourne family? She’d never seen anything like it.

Ronan was already behind him.

Before Brutas could turn, Ronan pulled a narrow blade from his sleeve. Something small and practical, designed to be hidden and used at close range.

Ronan drove it into Brutas’s back.

He aimed below the shoulder blade, somewhere painful and movement-limiting.

Brutas roared in pain.

The crowd erupted.

Elara stared, stunned.

She had known Ronan schemed. She had known he liked misdirection. But even she did not expect him to refuse a weapon publicly while hiding a secondary one.

Brutas staggered forward and spun around, one hand reaching toward the wound.

"You cheated!" He turned to Selene. "Ronan never declared that weapon!"

The crowd began shouting too. Some students agreed. Others looked confused.

Ronan did not look concerned.

He stepped back, holding the bloodied concealed blade loosely.

"I read the official duel regulations."

The arena quieted.

Ronan turned slightly toward Selene. "Secondary weapons do not need to be stated. Only the primary chosen weapon. Correct?"

Selene looked deeply tired.

She confirmed it.

"Ronan is correct. Concealed secondary weapons are permitted, provided they are not poisoned, cursed, connected to their primary weapon in any way."

Elara’s jaw dropped.

Kazuma said something dry. "He definitely planned that part."

Brutas was furious.

"You’re hiding behind technicalities!"

Ronan didn’t deny it. Before Brutas could fully regain his guard, Ronan attacked.

This was where the momentum changed.

Ronan went on the offensive.

He did not try to overpower Brutas. He used short, sharp movements. He targeted the wounded side. He kept moving behind Brutas’s mace range.

He cut at wrists, elbows, ribs, thighs, and the back of the knee.

Brutas was still stronger. Much stronger. But the wound in his back slowed his shoulder rotation and made every heavy swing worse, and far slower. He could still attack, but he could no longer turn as smoothly.

Elara realized this. Ronan did not stab him randomly. He chose a place that would make the mace harder to control.

Brutas swung. Ronan ducked under the arc and slashed at his side.

Ronan stepped in again.

The crowd’s reaction changed.

At first, they were confused.

Then they became shocked.

Ronan was pushing Brutas back.

Elara stopped panicking for a moment. She leaned forward, eyes wide.

Kazuma said nothing, but his expression said he expected something like this.

Luca, from another part of the stands, watched more seriously now.

Irene’s face became unreadable, but she was leaning forward in her chair now, her eyes a little wider

Brutas gritted his teeth and started fighting more carefully.

He stopped trying to simply crush Ronan with big swings.

He planted his feet, shortened his grip on the mace, and used his forearm and shoulder to block Ronan’s dagger strikes. His Steel Path reinforcement thickened around his limbs, making his skin more difficult to penetrate.

Ronan moved in for another cut.

Brutas tanked it.

The dagger scraped across reinforced skin but did not pierce deeply.

Brutas caught Ronan’s rhythm.

He raised his forearm, took the strike, then drove his fist straight into Ronan’s ribs.

The sound carried.

Elara heard it.

A dull, horrible impact.

Ronan was thrown backward. He hit the ground and slid several feet.

The crowd gasped.

That probably broke all his ribs. Elara thought. It’s over.

Even Kazuma’s expression became a little more grim.

Brutas breathed heavily, blood staining his back, but he grinned again.

For a second, it looked like the momentum had shifted back.

Then Ronan pushed himself up.

Slowly.

His clothes were torn. Blood ran from his mouth. His ribs should be broken.

But he stood.

He rolled his shoulder. Then cracked his neck.

"That hurt."

The arena went quiet.

She stared at him like he was insane. Because he did not sound afraid.

He sounded like he was having fun.

Brutas’s expression changed.

For the first time, he did not look angry, or did he look cocky. He looked a little disturbed.

The fight continued.

Brutas landed more hits.

Not clean enough to end it, but heavy enough that any normal Rank 2 should slow down.

A mace strike clipped Ronan’s shoulder.

A punch caught his side.

A reinforced knee nearly folded him.

Each time, Ronan staggered.

But each time, he returned and attacked back.

Just how is he able to tank all these attacks? Brutas is a steel path mage, body reinforcement and powerful strikes are where he excels. All of Ronan’s bones should be broken, but he’s completely fine.

Brutas grew more frustrated.

The wound in his back kept bleeding. His breathing got heavier. Ronan’s dagger kept finding smaller openings. His attacks were not decisive, but they were accumulating.

Brutas was now clearly on the back foot.

And while Ronan looked like he was beat up, he continued moving as if everything was fine.

He roared, furious, and reached toward something near his chest.

A metal charm glowed.

Luca noticed the mana signature before most of the crowd understood. His eyes narrowed.

"What is that?" Grace asked.

Irene answered first, grimly.

"That is not a skill. It is an artifact. A Rank 3 artifact. Second Wind."

Luca recognized the name. It was a combat artifact used by wealthy houses. It flooded the body with stored reinforcement mana, forcing the user into a temporary overclocked state. For about a minute, the user could fight above normal limits, ignoring previous damage.

It was dangerous because it strained the body afterward, but in a duel, one minute could decide everything.

"Using a Rank 3 artifact in a Rank 2 duel should be restricted," Iris said.

"It depends on the duel rules and what was registered beforehand," Irene replied.

Grace looked toward Selene.

Selene did not stop it.

That told everyone the artifact was approved.

Elara, overhearing or realizing, went pale.

If Brutas was already two minor stages above Ronan, then with Second Wind active, the gap became absurd.

Brutas laughed.

His skin started steaming. The veins in his arms darkened. Mana surged over his body. The wound in his back did not heal, but his body seemed to ignore the pain.

He charged.

This time Ronan could not keep up.

Brutas’s speed and power spiked too much.

Ronan tried to dodge. The mace caught him anyway.

Ronan went flying, and his body rolled on the floor of the arena.

Brutas was already on him, and he drove his mace at Ronan’s fallen body.

Ronan blocked with his left arm, but the attack was too strong. There was a small crack.

He used Flame Mirage, but Brutas smashed through the afterimage and caught the real movement faster than before.

Ronan was hit again.

And again.

The crowd exploded with cheers.

Brutas’s name began spreading through the stands.

"Brutas! Brutas! Brutas!"

Elara watched in horror.

Ronan was being beaten down now.

His earlier tricks no longer worked. His body could endure more than expected, but endurance had limits. Even if he had some trick to withstand Brutas’s attacks, now there was nothing he could do. He was clearly taking damage.

Finally, Brutas landed a devastating kick that sent Ronan crashing to the ground.

Ronan coughed.

And for a moment, he did not get up.

Brutas stood over him, panting. Steam rose from his skin. The artifact was burning through its stored power and through his stamina.

His wound was still bleeding, but he looked victorious.

He pointed the mace toward Ronan.

"Give up. You lost."

The crowd chanted Brutas’s name even louder.

Ronan slowly raised one hand.

The crowd shifted. Some students laughed. Others cheered louder, thinking he was about to surrender.

Then Ronan smiled.

Not a desperate smile. It was a manic smile.

Like he had been waiting for this exact moment.

Brutas’s grin faltered.

And his body staggered.