The arena trembled under the screams of the spectators. The atmosphere was electric, every student on the edge of their seat for this long-awaited duel: Diopha Hitari versus Galdron, the infamous colossus.
The gong echoed.
Galdron, in peak form, puffed out his chest, a feral grin splitting his face. "I'm gonna crush you, Hitari!" he roared as he charged forward, fists raised like a battering ram.
Diopha, impassive, shifted to the side with fluid grace, dodging the first strike effortlessly. His gaze stayed locked on Galdron—cold and sharp as a blade.
Galdron's punch struck the ground, cracking the arena tiles. The crowd erupted with excitement.
But Galdron wasn't done. He unleashed a flurry of savage attacks—punches, elbows, knees—raining down in a storm of raw aggression. Diopha parried, dodged, and blocked with precision, sometimes absorbing blows, but always standing firm.
Their exchanges grew faster, each impact echoing like thunderclaps. In these opening moments, neither man backed down. But as the minutes ticked by, signs of strain appeared on Galdron. Despite his overwhelming strength, his strikes became slightly less crisp, his breathing heavier.
Diopha, on the other hand, remained steady—like a perfectly tuned machine.
That's when the battle shifted gears.
"I… will… NOT… FALL!!" Galdron bellowed, his voice booming across the dome.
With a sudden lunge, he leapt forward, his mutated claws darkening as they slashed in a savage combo. Diopha dodged the first, blocked the second with his forearm, but the third strike grazed his cheek, leaving a thin line of blood.
The crowd erupted—it was the first time anyone had touched Diopha during these trials.
Diopha, eyes half-closed, touched his cheek and glanced at the blood. A faint smirk crossed his lips.
Still standing… interesting.
Fueled by his first hit, Galdron roared and powered up, his beastly aura swelling. His muscles bulged even more, black veins snaking across his arms. His speed became frightening, forcing even Diopha to step back slightly.
But despite his rage, Galdron's blows grew sloppier, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
"Grrr… Why won't you go down?!" he spat, pupils dilated.
Diopha stepped in, dodged a swipe, and countered with a sharp backhand to Galdron's ribs. The impact boomed like thunder. Galdron staggered back, bloody saliva dribbling from his lips.
Yet still, he roared, refusing to fall.
With a desperate final charge, he leapt, arms raised for a crushing overhead strike meant to break Diopha in half.
This time, Diopha calmly activated a hidden skill: "Partial Synchronization: Strength x2."
In a blink, he caught both of Galdron's arms mid-air and locked him in place.
Silence fell.
Diopha twisted and hurled Galdron into the ground. The arena floor cracked beneath the impact.
Galdron struggled… his arms shook…
But his legs refused to move.
Their eyes met—and for the first time, Galdron's gaze showed not fury, but fear.
He collapsed, unconscious.
The crowd exploded into cheers, convinced the battle was over.
But then, a chill swept through the arena.
Galdron's limp body began to tremble. His skin tightened, muscles contracting and swelling again, reshaping every fiber with terrifying precision. His bulk condensed into pure, perfect athleticism—his physique now resembling Daniel's peak state from Lookism.
Though unconscious, his primal instincts took control. His veins pulsed, and a deep growl rumbled from his throat.
The spectators froze. The instructors exchanged tense glances. The magic barrier shielding the arena cracked audibly.
Without warning, Galdron sprang to his feet and charged, faster and wilder than ever. Every blow he threw was martial perfection—copied and enhanced instantly. Fists, legs, elbows—he used his whole body, growing stronger with every second.
Diopha, caught off guard by this violent resurrection, was forced to abandon all restraint. Their clash became a storm, tearing up the ground, splitting the arena, and shattering the barrier to pieces. Bursts of energy scattered, forcing students to shield themselves.
"He's getting faster… more precise… copying… and evolving." Diopha thought, barely evading a spinning heel kick that could have crushed his ribs.
At that moment, he felt the temptation to activate a trump card—one of his Game Core system's lethal abilities that could end the fight instantly. But he stopped himself.
"No… Out of respect for him… this ends with fists only."
Instead, he triggered only a temporary boost to his physical stats—no magic, no supernatural force, just raw muscle and speed.
Their duel grew even more savage. Their punches tore the air apart, their kicks shattered the ground, every impact making the arena quake. Diopha, now fully synchronized with his boost, began turning the tide. His strikes sharpened, his counters hit harder.
Finally, dodging one last attack, he pivoted and unleashed a massive uppercut into Galdron's chin. The blow shook the air itself, scattering dust and debris.
Galdron crashed down, this time for real. His overcharged form slackened, his wild energy dissipating.
Silence fell. And then the crowd erupted in a thunderous standing ovation.
Diopha stood tall, panting, fists clenched, his gaze hard.
He had won—and done it with honor.
But before the medics could even reach Galdron, an icy presence swept into the arena.
Isaac.
His slow, deliberate steps and icy stare locked onto Diopha, commanding instant attention. A sly smirk curled his lips.
"Impressive… Diopha Hitari, huh?" Isaac sneered. "Let's see if you can last against me."
Known as the third most handsome in the entire academy, Isaac had always had everything handed to him. He believed himself unbeatable—the real number one.
The challenge had been issued. And the whole arena held its breath, frozen by the weight of the clash to come.