NOVEL NEXT Chapter 27: Fury Held At Bay
Chapter 27 : Fury held at bay
Ralkor didn't wait to take the fight to the designated arena, his fury demanded action then and there. A crowd quickly formed a wide circle, giving the combatants space while murmurs of curiosity and anticipation filled the air.
Ralkor's hatred for Thrain was no secret, and now it blazed unchecked. "Let this be a lesson, Prince," he sneered, spitting the title like venom. "This is how fire should be controlled, how it should dominate. I'll show you, and I'll show everyone here what real strength looks like!" He gestured dramatically to the gathered crowd, drawing cheers from his loyal supporters.
Ralkor was notorious. Though not the strongest, his relentless stamina and brute strength were his trademarks, fueled by an unyielding rage. Some whispered that stronger fighters, even elites and advanced students, could outclass him in skill but few dared to challenge him, knowing how his anger turned him into a raging beast.
Without waiting, Ralkor charged forward, flames bursting violently from his mouth like a dragon's roar. His movements were wild, unrestrained, and fueled by blind fury.
Thrain, on the other hand, exhaled slowly, centering himself. He adjusted his stance, calm and collected, his eyes sharp as the blue glow hinted at awakening.
"You rely on rage to fuel your strength, Ralkor," Thrain said, his voice steady and cold. "Let me show you why clarity always beats chaos."
"He dares refer to me as just Ralkor?" That was the final straw for the instructor. His fury erupted as he launched himself forward, flames exploding from his feet in a propelling burst, a move Thrain recognized. He'd seen it before, even practiced it himself.
But this time, Thrain didn't plan to simply react. He planned to dominate. This wasn't just a fight, it was a statement. His first step to changing the academy's rigid, broken system.
Pyrope Mode lingered in the back of his mind, tempting him. It worked with anger, and the last time he'd unleashed it, chaos followed places destroyed, people hurt. It wasn't time for that yet. Besides, Ralkor hadn't activated his own. Thrain wanted to win on his terms, not just brute force. And while his blue-flamed enhanced eyes gave him the power to control others' flames, he didn't want to rely on that crutch here.
For a moment, doubt tried to creep into his thoughts. "Did I get too cocky?" he wondered. But the answer came as fast as the thought. "No. I can beat him. I can feel it. I'm stronger and faster, even if I don't fully understand mana or advanced fire techniques yet. I can produce flames. I can propel. That's all I need."
Ralkor shot forward, his feet igniting the ground as his propelling flames launched him toward Thrain like a comet. The crowd gasped at the sheer aggression.
But Thrain didn't back down. He planted his feet, flames roaring to life beneath him, and launched himself forward in a mirrored move. His burst was more powerful, the sheer heat and force leaving trails of smoke that covered the area as he rocketed forward, faster than anyone expected.
The two clashed mid-air in the center of the circle. The impact echoed with a deafening boom, sending shockwaves through the crowd. Dust and smoke erupted, shrouding the scene in a hazy veil. Silence fell, broken only by the faint crackle of dying flames.
Everyone stared into the smoke, straining to see who would emerge first.
The smoke lingered like a heavy curtain over the scene, refusing to clear. Gunther, annoyed by the delay, raised his hand and manipulated the smoke, twisting it away until the battlefield was visible.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
There stood Thrain, unscathed, holding Ralkor's limp body by the neck, one knee planted firmly into the ground as though pinning him down. Ralkor's head was partially burned, the swelling grotesque though the injury itself wasn't life threatening. Still, the sight was enough to silence even the murmurs. Thrain looked like a hunter standing over his prey, his cold, calm demeanor making the scene even more chilling.
Thrain's piercing gaze swept over the crowd, sharp as daggers. His voice, steady and powerful, carried across the circle.
"This is what anger does to you," he began, his tone low but commanding. "Ralkor, blinded by rage, tried to use it as his weapon. But what did it get him? Burned. Beaten. Broken. The thing about anger is... it consumes. It makes you reckless, makes you weak. It convinces you that lashing out is strength when it's just chaos, chaos you can't control."
He paused, letting his words sink in. Some students shifted uncomfortably, others nodded in agreement.
"Fire is not just anger," Thrain continued, his voice gaining an edge. "It's breath. It's focus. It's discipline. Fire responds to those who respect it, who master it, not those who abuse it. You all saw what happened here. Did Ralkor look like a master? Did he look like someone in control? Or did he look like someone who let fire control him?"
A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. Thrain's eyes scanned the faces, locking with those who seemed to understand.
He pointed toward Ralkor's unconscious form. "This is the path you follow when you let anger lead you. You burn out before you can even begin."
Some students were visibly moved, nodding along, but others scowled, their pride or loyalty to Ralkor refusing to let them concede.
Before Thrain could say more, Gunther stepped forward, his voice sharp and cutting through the moment. "Enough, Thrain. Let him go. You've made your point."
Thrain blinked, suddenly realizing he was still gripping Ralkor's neck, his knuckles white with tension. With a quiet exhale, he loosened his grip, letting Ralkor's limp body drop to the ground.
Gunther gave him a stern look but said nothing further, gesturing for the other instructors to check on Ralkor. Thrain straightened up, his expression unreadable, and without another word, walked away, leaving the crowd to linger in the weight of what they'd just witnessed.
…
As Thrain made his way toward the beginner-level class, Lynx caught up to him, his footsteps quick but composed.
"What are you doing here? You're my senior. Go to your quarters," Thrain said without slowing his pace.
But Lynx ignored the remark, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "How did you do that? The twisting in midair, the precision, you're already a good fighter, but that move... it wasn't like anything I've ever seen before."
Thrain paused, glancing back at Lynx. He realized immediately that Lynx must have been using Pyrope Mode during the fight to catch every detail. Unlike most who relied on anger to fuel their abilities, Lynx was different. Calm and calculating, like Daelan, he only used anger as a tool, not a crutch. It was something Thrain respected.
"I don't know," Thrain admitted after a moment, his tone neutral. "Instincts, I guess."
Lynx frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the vague answer, but he didn't press further. Thrain turned away and continued toward the class, leaving Lynx standing there, a mix of curiosity and unanswered questions lingering on his face.
As Thrain walked, he couldn't shake the thought of what Lynx had asked. How had he known those moves? They felt natural, almost ingrained, like they'd always been a part of him, just waiting to surface. The feeling was unsettling and thrilling. Something w
ithin him was awakening, but he wasn't sure if it was entirely his.