NOVEL NEXT Chapter 38: Final match...
Ryker was wildly recognised as an underdog among his mates, so they underestimated him so much.
At the start of the tournament even, Ryker never had much hope for the first and second place, he was satisfied with just third place.
That was because there were many others among his mates whom he admired for their skills, he couldn't even imagine himself winning against them.
But after braving and pushing through two rounds, something inside him began to change.
His confidence grew, layer by layer, and right now, standing here, he was beyond excited. His heart was pounding so hard it almost deafened him. His blood felt like it was on fire.
He clenched his fists, his breathing heavy, every fiber of his body trembling—not in fear, but in anticipation.
He had fought, he had endured, and now the dream that once seemed so distant... it no longer felt impossible.
For the first time, Ryker could see it.
His future prospects were good. No—better than good. They were bright, dazzling even.
And he wasn't about to let anyone take that away from him, not even Ethan.
'I can do it, I can defeat him...'
'Just as I defeated everyone else...:
Soon it was time for the expected match...
"Ryker Bladewind versus Ethan Drakethorne!"
The final match was then announced.
The crowd erupted into noise, a mixture of excitement and tension filling the arena air.
Ethan and Ryker walked to the center. Their footsteps were steady, deliberate.
Ryker had a fiery look in his eyes, brimming with confidence, his muscles tensed, ready for anything. Ethan smiled inwardly upon seeing the raw determination burning behind Ryker's gaze... but he said nothing.
He simply adjusted the grip on his sword, the steel catching the sunlight, glinting ominously.
Ryker cracked his neck, the popping sound resonating softly across the silent arena. He rolled his shoulders, tightening the straps of his gauntlets in readiness for the battle ahead.
The signal was given.
Ryker exploded forward with all the force of a charging beast, aiming for a quick hold—but Ethan was faster.
Ethan crouched low and swept his sword in a wide, horizontal arc.
'Inferno Sweep.'
Swoosh-!!!
The blade sang through the air with a sharp whistle, the force of it powerful enough that Ryker instinctively leapt back, just narrowly avoiding a deep gash across his chest.
Landing lightly on his feet, Ryker frowned.
'This is bad... I can't get close.'
Unlike Selene who wielded daggers, Ethan wielded a full sword, a weapon that dominated mid-range.
And Ethan wasn't just swinging blindly—he was systematically cutting off Ryker's angles.
No matter which way Ryker tried to move, there was a blade waiting.
Not only was Ethan wielding a sword, he wasn't revealing any flaws. His stance, his footwork, everything was precise, calm.
Ryker couldn't see a single opening.
Still, he refused to back down.
He rushed again, feinting a left step, then suddenly darting to the right, aiming to slip into Ethan's blind spot.
But Ethan responded with terrifying speed.
He twisted his wrist, spinning the blade into a tight spiral, the sword whistling as it cut through the air in a compact, defensive shield.
"Second Form: Burning Spiral."
Ryker cursed inwardly as he skidded to a halt—he couldn't force his way through that without getting sliced apart.
'He's using that spinning move to stop me from closing in... Tch, annoying!'
Backing off, Ryker took a deep breath. He needed a different approach. He couldn't just brute-force this.
Gritting his teeth, Ryker began to circle Ethan slowly, searching for even the tiniest mistake.
Ethan stayed in the center, blade poised, patient, almost like he was inviting Ryker to come.
The two circled each other for several seconds, tension thick in the air.
Finally, Ryker feinted a rush—then abruptly dropped low, shooting forward like a bullet, aiming to grab Ethan's ankle and destabilize him.
It was risky. One misstep and he'd get cleaved.
Ethan reacted instantly.
He swung his sword downward in a smooth, clean arc, slicing toward Ryker's outstretched arms.
"First Form: Ember Slice."
The blade was so fast and smooth that Ryker only just managed to roll to the side, feeling the wind from the slash brush his skin.
Rolling back to his feet, Ryker cursed under his breath again.
'Dammit... I can't even TOUCH him!'
Ethan stood there calmly, sword raised, eyes sharp.
"You're good," Ethan said lightly, his voice carrying across the arena. "But you're not going to catch me that easily."
Ryker growled. His heart pounded painfully in his chest. He wasn't ready to give up yet.
'No!'
'Not after everything i went through to get here.'
Suddenly, Ryker charged again—but this time, halfway through, he faked a stumble.
Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly, he was very cautious.
That hesitation was all Ryker needed.
In that split second, Ryker twisted his body unnaturally, throwing his weight sideways and lunging forward—not aiming for Ethan's torso, but his sword arm.
His fingers brushed against Ethan's wrist.
Iron Grip!
Ryker latched on.
His gauntlet's reinforced fingers clamped down hard, muscles bulging as he tried to wrench Ethan's sword free.
The crowd gasped.
He had grabbed him!
But Ethan remained eerily calm. He knew this was going to happen and he already have a counter in his mind.
Rather than fight the pull, Ethan stepped forward, into Ryker's space—then spun, using the force of Ryker's own grip to whip his body around.
Burning Spiral.
The sword, still in Ethan's grip, spun with him like a wheel of death. The centrifugal force tore Ryker's grip loose, sending him staggering backward.
Ryker's heart sank.
'Shit... He used my own hold against me...!'
Before Ryker could recover, Ethan followed up with a sweeping slash, forcing Ryker to leap back again.
Panting heavily now, Ryker glared at Ethan.
'Think...! Think, dammit! If I can't beat him at range... I have to force a close combat situation no matter the risk!'
With a fierce cry, Ryker surged forward again, zigzagging erratically to throw off Ethan's aim.