NOVEL NEXT Chapter 65: Nyxander's Spar test
Both opponents stood locked in a silent battle of wills, their gazes fierce and unwavering, each daring the other to falter. The murmurs of the spectators rippled like restless waves, a backdrop to the tension that hung heavy in the air. Nyxander adjusted his stance, his fists clenched tightly across his body, muscles taut like a coiled spring.
Across the arena, Kal gripped his sword with both hands, swinging it effortlessly to his right. The blade sliced through the air with a sharp voom, its weight sinking into the thick soil behind him, a predatory beast waiting to strike.
Above them, Hung hovered in midair, his sharp gaze flickering between the combatants. For a moment, he lingered, as though savoring the electric anticipation that gripped the arena. Then, with a voice that echoed like thunder, he declared, "Now, fight!" His words fell like a hammer, shattering the stillness as he retreated gracefully to his seat beside the North Astro Lord, the stage now left to the warriors below.
Kal's lips curled into a sinister smile, his laughter cold and cutting. "Hehehe, I was told not to underestimate you, someone who could subdue and control those thugs, but that doesn't matter. You're doomed, you unsophisticated hero." His voice dripped with disdain, each word a taunt laced with malice.
Nyxander's gaze sharpened, his expression hardening like tempered steel. "If you're done spouting nonsense, then bring it on," he retorted, his tone low and resolute. With a quick, practiced motion, he bent slightly forward, loosening his stance, his body a poised instrument of precision.
Kal sneered. "Let's see if you can keep that smug look till the end." With those words, he charged forward, dragging his massive blade through the soil behind him. The sword carved a deep trench in its wake, the sound of grinding earth echoing across the arena. "AAAAA!" Kal roared, leaping high into the air with the sword raised above his head. The darker edge of the blade pointed behind him, its counterpart gleaming menacingly in the daylight.
"Infernal Edge: Flame Surge Dash!" Kal bellowed, and the darker side of the blade erupted in a controlled burst of flame, propelling him forward like a meteor streaking through the sky. The flames roared with raw energy, driving him toward Nyxander with blistering speed and lethal precision. As Kal closed in, he swung the blade's glowing edge downward, aiming a devastating strike directly at his opponent.
But Nyxander remained unshaken. With a calm, almost effortless sidestep to his left, he evaded the fiery blow. The blade struck the stage with a deafening impact, unleashing a low, explosive shockwave that sent dust spiraling high into the air. The arena trembled under the force, but Nyxander's focus never wavered.
Kal, undeterred, lifted his blade once more, the flame licking hungrily at its edges. "Is this all you've got?" he snarled, swinging the sword vertically with ferocious intent. The flames propelled the strike with terrifying speed, the blade slicing through the air like a guillotine aimed for Nyxander's head.
Nyxander, quick as a shadow, bent backward, the sword grazing past his nose by mere inches. The sheer force of the swing caused Kal's upper body to follow the motion, his stance faltering as his right rib was left exposed, a glaring opening.
Nyxander's eyes narrowed, his instincts taking over in a heartbeat. With precision honed through countless battles, he drove his fist into Kal's ribs like a cannonball, the blow reverberating through the arena. The impact sent Kal hurtling backward, his body a blur as he crashed into the concrete stage wall. The force cracked the stone, dust and debris exploding outward as Kal's sword slipped from his grip, its flat surface clanging lifelessly against the ground. Blood spurted from Kal's mouth as he slumped against the wall, his breath ragged and labored.
For a moment, the arena fell deathly silent, the weight of what had just occurred settling over the spectators like a heavy fog. Then, like a dam breaking, Nyxander's supporters erupted in cheers, their voices a thunderous chant. "Phantom Altruist! Phantom Altruist!" They raised their hands high, clapping and shouting his name with unbridled fervor, their admiration ringing through the air.
Kal's colleagues, on the other hand, glared with burning disdain, their voices rising in defiance as they shouted for him to rise. "Kal! Stand up! Kal!"
At the North Astro Lord's seat, the atmosphere was charged with emotion. Centric's face twisted into a grimace, his teeth clenched tightly, frustration radiating from his rigid posture. Seraphina and Lumina, seated nearby, couldn't hide the smiles tugging at their lips, though they tried to suppress them.
Dunstan's brows furrowed, his mind racing as he sifted through fragments of memory. There was something hauntingly familiar about Nyxander's movements, something that tugged at the edges of his recollection.
At the forefront, the North Astro Lord remained calm, his head resting on his right fist, elbow propped on the armrest of his ornate chair. A faint smile flickered across his lips, subtle yet telling.
"It seems the rumors are true," Hung said, seated beside him, his tone steady but laced with intrigue.
The North Astro Lord's gaze didn't waver. "Yes, looking at him now, it's clear," he replied, his voice carrying an air of quiet authority, as though he had seen the inevitability of this moment long before it arrived.
Kal struggled to his feet, his legs unsteady, but his pride unwavering. He gripped his sword with his left hand, dragging it upward, and wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, his throat rumbling in a low growl. His voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade. "Don't get ahead of yourself just because I let my guard down."
The blade of his sword scraped against the ground as he dragged it behind him with his right hand, each step deliberate, filled with malice. Suddenly, with the fluidity of a predator striking its prey, Kal swung the massive weapon like a golfer aiming for the horizon. "Infernal Edge: Flame Surge Dash!" he roared. Instantly, the flame side of the blade ignited, a tempest of fire propelling the strike forward. The blast sent a cascade of soil flying toward Nyxander, the sand spiraling through the air like the spray of a ruptured dam.
Nyxander, unflinching, responded with a swift swing of his left hand, the movement clean and precise. The wall of sand scattering toward him was deflected outward, dispersing into harmless grains that rained onto the stage. His sharp gaze snapped back to Kal, who now gripped his sword with both hands, the blade inverted, its flat surface facing him in a defensive stance.
"Infernal Edge: Blazing Shield Formation," Kal declared, his voice a chilling calm amidst the chaos. Immediately, the sword roared to life once more. The flame side conjured a swirling, fiery shield, while the heat side emitted an intense, shimmering thermal field. Together, the energies overlapped to form an impenetrable barrier before him, pulsating with raw destructive potential.
Kal slammed the tip of his sword into the stage floor, and the energy erupted outward. The thermal field blasted the thick soil upward, sending plumes of dust into the air, cloaking Kal in a swirling storm of debris. For a heartbeat, Nyxander stood still, his expression calm but his senses razor-sharp as he watched the shifting dust. Suddenly, Kal burst through the veil, a blur of motion, his sword raised high on his left side, both hands gripping the hilt like a guillotine about to fall.
"Infernal Edge: Flame Surge Dash!" Kal shouted once more, the flames roaring to life again. With a ferocious cry, he swung the blade horizontally toward Nyxander's head, the fire propelling the strike with deadly precision.
Nyxander leaped backward, narrowly avoiding the blade, but Kal was ready. Anticipating the dodge, he extended his arms, lengthening the arc of his strike. "Do you think the same trick will work on me twice?" Kal snarled, his voice laced with scorn as the flaming blade closed in on Nyxander's left ear.
The arena froze, tension thick in the air. Centric leaned forward in his seat, barely containing his grin, while Seraphina and Lumina sat with bated breath, their hearts pounding. The spectators watched with rapt attention, the entire crowd on edge as the decisive moment approached. Even the North Astro Lord adjusted his posture, sitting upright to get a clear view of the unfolding drama.
Just as the flame-enveloped blade was about to graze Nyxander's ear, he raised his left fist to block it. The collision was fierce, a clash of steel and flesh. Steam hissed from the point of contact, the heat burning into Nyxander's skin. A shallow cut appeared, and from it, a thick, yellow essentia fluid oozed slowly, staining the tip of Kal's sword.
"AAAAA! It's not too late to beg for forgiveness, green hero!" he spat, pressing harder with his blade, forcing Nyxander to resist the crushing force.
Nyxander's lips curled into a faint, almost dismissive smile. His voice was calm, his words deliberate. "You talk too much, don't you think?" he said, his tone carrying the weight of quiet confidence.
Instead of continuing to resist, Nyxander shifted his strategy. He let the force of the blade push him, using its momentum to spin sideways, his body twisting fluidly like a dancer caught in a whirlwind. His head inverted, mere inches from the ground, while his feet arced upward, his movements precise and calculated.
Kal's eyes widened in alarm as the motion dragged his sword to the left, leaving his right side exposed. Before he could react, Nyxander struck. With the precision of a striker aiming for the perfect goal, Nyxander's foot lashed out, connecting squarely with Kal's forehead.
The impact was explosive, a resounding crack that sent Kal hurtling backward like a ragdoll. He crashed into the stage wall with devastating force, the concrete groaning under the collision. Dust and debris exploded outward, and for a moment, the entire arena seemed to hold its breath.
At the North Astro Lord's seat, during Kal strike at Nyxander. His composure faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly as a ripple of unease passed over his face. Through the wound on Nyxander's fist, he had sensed a terrifying energy, an essence so potent it sent a shiver down his spine. Yet, before he could discern its true nature, the wound had already healed, the essentia fluid evaporating into the air as an ethereal golden mist.
Beside him, Hung noticed the shift in the Lord's demeanor. His gaze turned toward Nyxander, suspicion gleaming in his eyes.
Centric leapt from his seat, his face frozen in disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Seraphina and Lumina shared a similar reaction, their emotions a storm of awe and relief.
The silence in the arena was deafening, a palpable pause as everyone processed the unbelievable scene that had just unfolded.