Inside the circular arena, Ezekiel and Clyde stood face to face, eyes locked in silent tension.
Clyde grinned like he'd been waiting for this moment all along. And in truth, he had. This match hadn't been left to chance, it had been carefully arranged behind the scenes using his influence. He did this to teach Ezekiel a lesson for ignoring him at the entrance earlier.
I'm going to crush this twat and show everyone I'm better in every way.
This will be just another stepping stone. After I humiliate this lowborn trash, my reputation will soar.
The thoughts echoed in Clyde's head as he tightened his grip on his sword.
Before stepping into the ring, he had downed an enhancement potion that temporarily boosted his strength and durability. It was a rare-grade elixir, the kind most could only dream of obtaining. But for someone like Clyde, it was just another disposable tool. He had no intention of losing. Not here. Not now.
In his hand, he held Durandal, an A-class sword imbued with light magic. Said to grant vitality to allies and cut through nearly anything, it was more than just a weapon. It was a symbol of his privilege, a reminder to others of who stood at the top.
The signal to begin rang through the arena.
Clyde lunged first, supercharged by the potion. His blade came down fast and hard.
But Ezekiel didn't draw a weapon.
He simply moved. Effortlessly.
He tilted, twisted, ducked. Each of Clyde's slashes cut through empty space, meeting nothing but air as Ezekiel weaved through them with perfect timing.
"This prick,"
Clyde growled.
"Is dodging the only thing you know how to do?"
His swings grew more violent. It was faster, heavier and constantly being fueled by anger.
To the crowd, the two fighters became blurs. Most couldn't follow the fight at all. All they could hear were the howls of wind from Clyde's missed strikes and the thuds of Ezekiel's silent footwork. Brute force clashed with fluid precision. Strength against cold, relentless calculation.
And Ezekiel hadn't taken a single hit.
The longer it went on, the more Clyde's anger boiled over. He couldn't take it anymore. In a fit of rage, he decided to destroy the ring itself.
With a roar, he gripped his sword in both hands and drove it into the ground.
A sudden tremor spread out from the impact. Cracks splintered across the arena floor, snaking toward Ezekiel. The earth split open. Dust erupted into the air, choking visibility as the ground beneath Ezekiel collapsed.
Spectators near the edge of the platform shouted and stumbled back, trying to distance themselves from the chaos.
Within seconds, the ring was swallowed in dust. No one could see anything—not even Clyde.
But he was sure of it.
He had gotten Ezekiel.
As the dust began to settle, a massive hole was revealed at the center of the arena. It was deep, so deep that the bottom couldn't be seen. Just a pit of endless darkness.
"Oh my god! Is he dead?"
someone in the audience cried out.
Clyde smiled.
"That was easy,"
he muttered.
"Bugs might be annoying to swat, but in the end, they're still bugs. Meant to be crushed."
He turned to walk away.
Whoosh.
A small dagger sliced through the air.
Clyde barely twisted in time to dodge.
"Shit! What was that?"
he shouted.
if it wasn't the potion he had drunk earlier, he wouldn't have the ability to dodge that.
his eyes snapped back toward the ring. And from the edge of the pit, a figure stepped into view.
Ezekiel stood on solid ground, calm and collected, holding a small dagger in one hand. His expression was unreadable, almost bored.
"You're still alive?"
Clyde snarled.
Seeing him standing there, untouched and composed, made Clyde's blood boil. That dagger was an insult. A slap to the face. He had attacked with full force, using everything at his disposal, and yet Ezekiel had survived and attacked him with just a measly knife.
This nobody was stealing his moment.
The rage reached its breaking point.
Clyde activated his unique skill-
The Knight's Domain : (Duration use: 3 minutes), (Side Effects: Long Physical Backlash and Mental Exhaustion)
A radiant surge burst from him, rippling outward in waves. The entire arena trembled. A silvery aura expanded in a wide circle, enveloping everything within its radius.
It said that opponents inside the domain feel immense pressure, like their bodies are being crushed under invisible weight .And in here Clyde's awareness sharpened. His physical resistance soared. Every motion, sound, and shift in the air registered in his mind with crystal clarity. He was faster, stronger, and harder to hurt.
Durandal gleamed, brighter than ever. With a shout, Clyde swung, and blades of searing light magic tore across the field. Each strike sent crescent arcs flying, ripping through the ground and walls. Debris flew and screams started to ranged out.
He didn't care who got hurt.
All that mattered was killing Ezekiel.
The audience ducked and scattered. Some dropped to their knees, shielding themselves as Clyde's wild attacks carved up the surroundings.
Then Clyde approached Ezekiel, trying by any means to land a hit with his sword.
Ezekiel dodged most of the attacks, but a few he blocked using the knife he was wielding.
The clash sent a gust of wind through the arena, blasting the lingering dust into the sky and revealing the two figures fully. All eyes locked on them. No one even blinked.
Hair stood on end. The tension was suffocating.
With a scream, Clyde lunged one final time. His sword arced down with the full force of Knight's Domain behind it.
Ezekiel met it head-on.
The dagger rose.
Their weapons collided.
Sparks erupted.
Clyde pushed forward, pouring every ounce of strength into his blade. His eyes burned with fury. He wanted to overpower Ezekiel and split him in half.
Ezekiel held his ground, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. He gritted his teeth, pushing back with everything he had.
For a brief second, they stood frozen in that clash. The sound of metal screaming echoed across the arena.
Then came a crack.
It was Ezekiel's dagger. The steel began to splinter.
Despite being forged from rare dungeon materials and enhanced through Ezekiel's own energy, it couldn't withstand the sheer power of Durandal. Not for long.
And then- it snapped.
The broken blade flew from his hand.
Clyde's sword followed through.
Ezekiel twisted at the last moment, narrowly dodging the blow. But the edge grazed his cheek.
Blood sprayed.
Clyde sneered.
And with a savage grin, he started talking.