NOVEL NEXT Chapter 66: The Spar's results
Everywhere fell silent as all spectators fixed their eyes on the corner of the stage veiled in a dense cloud of raised dust. The tension in the air was palpable, some clenched their lips tightly, others emitted muffled murmurs, while a few even rose from their seats, their gazes darting within their sockets, dancing between hope and disbelief. Nyxander stood motionless, a stoic figure against the backdrop of chaos, his calm eyes piercing through the swirling haze as he waited for it to dissipate.
Slowly, the dust began to settle, unveiling Kal's shadow like the silhouette of a wounded predator clinging to survival. He knelt on his right knee, his trembling hand gripping the hilt of his sword, which was planted into the ground for support. "Kuff, kuff," Kal coughed, blood dripping from the right corner of his lips. As the last remnants of the dust cleared, he forced himself upright, though his body swayed unsteadily.
"You should give up," Nyxander said, his tone steady yet laced with subtle authority. He raised his right hand across his chest, palm open, a calm but firm gesture inviting Kal to decide his fate. "Or do you still want to continue?"
A sudden uproar of chatter erupted from the spectators' seats, their voices filling the air like a crescendo of rising waves.
"AAAAA! As expected of the Phantom Altruist!" one spectator exclaimed, his voice brimming with admiration. "He's the one dominating his opponent, yet he's still showing concern."
"Exactly! His opponent's blows barely grazed him, yet he turned every movement into a counterattack, putting that guy in his place!" another chimed in enthusiastically.
"I wouldn't call those movements graceful, they were downright dismissive! He's treating Kal like an amateur!" someone else chimed in, sparking laughter from those nearby.
"Haha! It's like he's dancing with his prey before delivering the final blow. A man like that can't be taken lightly!"
The murmurs spread like wildfire, their sharp edges plucking at the attention of both the fighters and the officials seated above. Nyxander, overhearing the comments, muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with dry amusement, "Why does it sound more like an insult than a compliment?"
Kal, still recovering his breath, tightened his grip on his sword and wiped the blood from his mouth. "You might have defeated me twice, but that doesn't mean you've won. So..." Kal began, his voice strained yet resolute, but he paused mid-sentence. A shadow passed overhead, and the crowd's collective gaze rose as one, their murmurs silenced by curiosity.
Hovering above the stage was Hung, his wings shimmering under the daylight like polished silver. His gaze, sharp as a falcon's, fixed on the scene below. Kal's eyes widened as they locked onto Hung's authoritative figure descending from the sky.
"Sir, I can still..." Kal began, urgency cracking through his voice, but Hung's piercing gaze froze him mid-sentence.
"What is there to fight anymore?" Hung asked, his voice a blend of commanding authority and calm finality. "Looking at him, it's clear he's not even fighting you at full strength."
Kal's sword slipped from his grasp, the blade clattering onto the ground with a dull thud as he dropped to his knees. His head hung low, buried between his hands, the weight of Hung's words pressing heavily upon him.
"Don't let your emotions carry you away," Hung said firmly, his tone cutting through Kal's despair. Kal lifted his head, his tear-streaked face glancing up at Hung in confusion.
Hung's voice took on a sharper edge. "Do you think we are unaware of the tensions between your Astro Station and the Aqua Astro Station?" He began his descent, his wings folding elegantly behind him as his feet touched the ground. Kal's gaze darted nervously between Hung and the North Astro Lord seated far behind. The Lord's face, usually composed, was now creased with concern, resembling a child on the verge of tears.
"This was not a regular fight," Hung continued, his words slow and deliberate. "It was a test for him." He gestured toward Nyxander with a subtle nod. "And you need to remember the greater cause at stake."
At those words, the faint rumors of an impending war echoed in Kal's mind, their weight anchoring him back to reality. He took a deep, shaky breath, regaining his composure. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he picked up his sword and strapped it to his back, his resolve quietly firming.
Turning to the crowd, Hung declared with a booming voice, "The winner of today's spar is Nyxander, the Phantom Altruist!"
The arena erupted in cheers and applause, the spectators rising to their feet to chant his name. "Phantom Altruist! Phantom Altruist!" The crowd's energy was electric, reverberating through the air like a storm unleashed.
For a brief moment, Nyxander felt a twinge of discomfort at the title bestowed upon him. But as his gaze swept across the sea of jubilant faces, he lifted his head slightly, acknowledging the cheers. His eyes landed on Kal and the other two subordinates seated in the crowd. Unlike the others, their faces were pale and damp with sweat, their teeth clenched as if locked in a silent struggle. They sat frozen, unable to join the celebration. Their minds, it seemed, were haunted by the thought of standing in Kal's shoes, imagining the fate that might have befallen them.
Nyxander noticed their trembling forms and offered them a faint, knowing smile. The gesture was meant to reassure them, but instead, it sent shivers down their spines. To them, his smile was not one of warmth but of cold, calculating intent, a villain's smile. Their gazes darted away, unable to meet his piercing eyes.
Nyxander's attention shifted to Seraphina and Lumina's seats. Catching their eyes, he offered a small wave. Lumina, whose face had been an unyielding mask of coldness, found herself breaking into an involuntary smile. Seraphina, caught off guard, already smiling, quickly turned her face away as if embarrassed, like a child caught stealing sweets
The crowd's cheers showed no signs of stopping as Nyxander turned his back to them. With calm steps, he walked toward the edge of the stage, the echoes of his name following him like the whispers of a tale that would soon become legend.
After a few minutes of striding through the shadow-cloaked backstage tunnel, Nyxander finally emerged from the arena building. The cool evening breeze greeted him, carrying a faint whisper of the roaring crowd's fading echoes. As he prepared to move forward, his sharp eyes caught sight of Lumina, Seraphina, and Dunstan already waiting for him under the soft glow of a flickering lantern.
"Congratulations on officially joining the North Celestial Station," Lumina said with a faint, genuine smile, her voice soft yet clear, like a distant bell ringing through the night.
"Yeah, thanks," Nyxander replied, his tone steady as his lips curled into a faint smile to match hers. Their gazes lingered for a moment, a silent exchange that needed no words. But just as the subtle warmth of the moment began to settle, Seraphina's sharp voice pierced through it like a dagger through silk.
"What's there to celebrate?" she said, her tone tinged with playful disdain, her head turning away dramatically like a petulant child. "He was just lucky that his opponent was weaker. Hmph!"
Dunstan chuckled softly, placing a gentle hand on Seraphina's head. "But I noticed your eagerness during the spar," he said, his voice teasing yet warm. "And you were smiling when his victory was declared." His hand ruffled her hair, much to her chagrin.
"You must have seen wrongly!" Seraphina snapped, swatting Dunstan's hand away. "Are you on my side or his side?"
"Of course, I'm always on your side," Dunstan replied, his smile widening as if he found her indignation endearing.
"Hmph." Seraphina folded her arms tightly across her chest, her face turned away in a gesture of mock defiance. Yet the faint blush creeping across her cheeks betrayed her act.
Lumina, observing the pair's playful banter, shifted her gaze back to Nyxander. Her expression softened, and her tone took on a more serious note. "You should rest. In two days, the Astro official gathering will take place," she said, her words carrying a quiet sense of responsibility.
Nyxander nodded slightly, and they began walking together. Nyxander and Lumina led the way, their steps in sync, while Seraphina and Dunstan followed closely behind. The faint crunch of their boots against the gravel seemed to echo in the stillness, weaving a rhythm that matched the serenity of the night.
Behind them, Dunstan's gaze lingered on Nyxander's back, his brows furrowed as if trying to piece together a half-forgotten memory. "Why does his figure and appearance seem so familiar…" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.
Seraphina, walking beside him, gave him a quick sidelong glance before shifting her gaze to Nyxander's silhouette ahead. "Hmph, why waste your brain cells on him?" she quipped with a mischievous smirk. "That pervert doesn't stay in one place. He's just a vagabond wandering from here to there, bewitching people. That's why everyone knows him."
"Oh, I see," Dunstan said, his tone carrying a note of amusement as he looked back at her. "But is it really okay to make such comments about him?" he added, his words tinged with rhetorical curiosity.
"That pervert molested Big Sis," Seraphina declared with righteous fervor, clenching her small fist tightly across her chest as if swearing an oath. "It's my duty to save her from him, and I will succeed!"
Up ahead, Lumina broke the silence between her and Nyxander. "Thanks for teaching them a big lesson earlier," she said, her voice quieter now, almost introspective. "I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief after the match. It's as if you helped carry the weight of it for me." Her gaze drifted to the road ahead, her expression unreadable but calm.
Nyxander shook his head, waving his right hand dismissively. "Not at all," he said, his tone light and easy, a modest smile playing on his lips. "This wasn't about me or you. They requested it, so there's no need to thank me." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, a broken laugh escaping his lips as his eyes squinted from the faint embarrassment dancing across his face.
The conversation between them flowed naturally, a stream of lighthearted and serious exchanges weaving through the night until they reached a walkway where their paths diverged. Standing at the crossroads, they exchanged farewells, their voices mingling with the quiet hum of the evening.
As they parted, each heading toward their respective residences, the faint echo of their steps lingered in the air. The galaxy above bore silent witness, staelight casting a gentle glow over the group as they disappeared into the distance.