When Isaac registered for school, he demonstrated the strength of a high-level, level three fire-type swordsman. Today, he doesn't intend to use any combat techniques beyond that level.
He was simply restless and frustrated, yearning for battle, yearning to sweat profusely.
Aeneas, on the other hand, is a level 5, beginner-level earth-type swordsman.
If we divide it by the total amount of fighting spirit, the opponent's fighting spirit is three times that of his.
To the average person, this should have been a battle with no suspense whatsoever.
Aeneas expressionlessly plunged his sword into the ground before him. Yellow battle aura instantly activated the enchanted blade, emitting a low hum. He spoke indifferently, "Rock Technique: Earth Rumble."
In an instant, the hard ground came alive and turned into sand, stirring up a half-wave of water that surged toward Isaac in undulating waves.
Earth-type warriors are quite advantageous among the seven elemental types, possessing good endurance and resilience. Their battle aura often takes two forms: flowing sand and resilient rock.
Isaac's forte is fire magic, which is known for its most violent output, and he believes that "offense is the best defense."
But Isaac didn't choose to take the attack head-on. He raised his greatsword and ran to the side of the arena. After avoiding the range of the sand ripples, he quickly slashed towards his opponent along the edge of the ripples.
The ground beneath his feet was peculiar; one side remained a solid rock formation, while the other transformed into flowing, vibrant earth. Right on that clear dividing line, he carried his heavy sword and, with just a few leaps, arrived before Aeneas.
With the contraction of the waist and abdomen generating power, like a drawn bow, the heavy sword behind him is swung out with the forward momentum, smashing like a slap against the opponent who stands motionless with his hands covered by the sword.
He abandoned the usual combat techniques and ranged attacks used in typical warrior duels, and went straight into close-quarters melee combat with his opponent.
Aeneas, who was guiding the combat technique, originally intended to knock his arrogant opponent out of the arena with a single technique, but he did not expect that his opponent would play completely unpredictably.
"You're courting death." He sneered, immediately gripping his sword in the backhand and raising it high to parry.
The blades clashed, sparks flying, and the sharp clang of metal against metal drew cheers from the audience. Eneeaston's heart sank; what seemed like a simple strike from his opponent had actually made his hand go numb.
However, before he could even react, his opponent unleashed another sword strike.
“Here you go, take this!” the brown-haired warrior warned him, his sword swinging with relentless speed in mid-air.
"Enough with the nonsense," Aeneas snapped. He raised his sword again to parry, preparing to counterattack after receiving the blow and regain the initiative.
However, to his surprise, his opponent seemed to have no exhaustion period after swinging the sword. After pressing down with the sword, he slightly raised the greatsword, made a light spin in the air, and then pressed it down hard again.
Its expansive and sweeping movements subtly suggest an unending, continuous flow.
"Are you a fire swordsman or a water swordsman, you son of a bitch?" Aeneas, who had been constantly being beaten down, couldn't help but curse. As an earth-type warrior, he hadn't experienced this kind of humiliation of being beaten like a turtle in a long time.
After taking another heavy sword strike from his opponent, he couldn't help but use a level 5 combat skill, "Rock Technique: Thorns".
Earth-type battle aura erupted from his body, instantly covering his body and the heavy sword in his hand. This is the most troublesome combat technique of the earth element. When he is injured, the rock armor formed by his battle aura can not only absorb some of the damage, but also reflect a portion of the force back to the opponent.
However, the opponent, like a reckless fool, continued to strike downwards with his sword, one after another, regardless of the consequences.
"This guy's a madman," Aeneas thought, but he had to brace himself and keep up with his opponent's rhythm, blocking the attacks that were even more continuous than the ripples of the earth's roar.
As a former sword saint, Isaac could easily defeat his opponent even without using his fighting spirit. He had at least a hundred ways to end the fight instantly, but at this moment he was enjoying the pain caused by the rebounding force.
Without any skill, Isaac repeatedly raised and lowered his sword, venting his inner frustration through mechanical repetition. His body was listlessly releasing energy, while his mind was able to empty itself in a moment of tranquility.
So, standing on the stage under everyone's watchful eyes, he unilaterally toyed with his opponent while finally calming down to sort out his thoughts.
He couldn't help but think of Yun Wei again.
The other person should be sitting in the library right now, as always, intently flipping through ancient parchment scrolls.
He could clearly picture this scene in his mind. Because in the days before, he had always sat opposite him, pretending to be asleep, secretly peeking at his master through his clenched fingers.
Perhaps because they came from a continent outside of Zhuyuan, whenever they encountered complex words, they would bring their fingertips close to the word as a temporary label, while frantically flipping through the dictionary beside them with their other hand.
He couldn't help but gaze at the other person's smooth, rounded nails, and then greedily traced their outline bit by bit, from the finger bones to the wrist, then to the neck and jaw, careful not to alert them.
He wanted to sit in the same chair as his master, he wanted to hug his master from behind, he wanted to be the dictionary in the other's hands.
When the other person encounters an unfamiliar word, with just a gesture, he will lean over from the side of their neck to help, and then whisper the meaning into the most authentic annotation, tenderly telling it to the other person's ear.
The two could gaze deeply into each other's eyes, their shining gazes reflecting only each other.
He really wanted to, so much.
He still has so many things he wants to do with Yunwei.
Even if he did nothing, just being able to silently protect the other person would make him feel extremely satisfied.
But he was driven away by Yun Wei.
He, however, felt he deserved his punishment.
He knew how badly he had behaved the night before. But the moment Yun Wei confessed to him that he was attracted to the same sex, he suddenly realized a problem he had long ignored.
He liked Yun Wei, but did Yun Wei like him back? He was afraid of Yun Wei's sudden confession, and he just wanted to tell him that the other person already had someone else in their heart.
In his panicked and helpless state, the other person's fingers began to caress him lightly, causing his mind to go blank and become numb.
Then he heard the fatal question and answered honestly with his body's instincts.
Indeed, he does dislike men...
But he doesn't like women either.
In his short life of twenty-one years, the word "like" was far too distant for him.
As his grandmother said, he had always looked down on love, believing that the tender and affectionate haven was nothing more than a coward's refuge from battle.
He was born with a love for this never-ending battle in his life.
Fight! Fight!
Love is a life-or-death battle!
His grandmother, Catherine the Great's, resounding words echoed in his ears once more, causing his dazed eyes to suddenly brighten.
He must continue to grip the hilt of his sword and fight bravely! It was just one defeat...
He would never admit defeat unless Yun Wei personally pronounced his death sentence.
The Temubranche family is known for its romantic nature; each emperor is only matched with one queen throughout his life.
Once you've set your mind on someone, it's a passionate and unwavering commitment, until death do you part!
"For Love!" Isaac roared in the ancient Moonflower Melody, unleashing the last sword strike of the day with all his might.
This sword strike was simple and unadorned, yet it carried an indomitable spirit. Though the heavy sword in his hand was merely cold steel, it blossomed with an eagle's tail under the nourishment of blood.
The enchanted sword in the opponent's hand could not withstand the overwhelming sword intent and determination. After bending excessively, it slipped from his grasp and pierced diagonally into the other side of the battlefield.
The dust has settled; Aeneas has been defeated.
He knelt on one knee, his dry mouth filled with the bitter taste of rust. He stared in disbelief at the proud warrior standing before him, whose hand was already bleeding profusely from the impact, yet who remained completely unmoved.
The ashen-faced, crew-cut youth slowly turned his head to look at the heavy sword that had flown from his hand on the other side, muttering, "I lost...why?"
Aeneas couldn't understand where his opponent's ever-growing prowess came from. That stunning sword strike contained a mystery he couldn't comprehend at all.
Isaac wiped the blood from the mouth of his hand, then used his fingertips to coolly ruffle his slightly messy hair.
He stood proudly in the setting sun, straight and upright. He gazed quietly in the direction of the library, and slowly answered:
"Because of my belief, I have a belief in my heart that I want to protect."
"Just thinking of him makes me feel calm enough to face death at any moment."
...
At this very moment, the "belief" he spoke of was actually dizzy and disoriented as he finished reading an ancient manuscript that was not of much value.
It was almost closing time. After finishing discussing Sid's matter, Vivian was in a bad mood and took her leave. Now, all she could see was him, all alone.
Yun Wei wearily gathered the manuscripts on the table, then stood up and stretched. As he looked down, he suddenly noticed a word that looked very familiar among the manuscripts piled on the other side.
He picked it up and looked at it; the cover actually read "Alch's Love Stories".
The thin, yellowed manuscript, which he had hastily scanned the label on several days ago, was casually placed in the pile of discarded books, alongside absurd manuscripts such as "Raphael's Bathing Posture" and "Gerald's Escape Secrets".
Alch.
Upon seeing this familiar name, Yun Wei's pupils suddenly contracted.
He is the wizard who bravely sacrificed himself to save Aragorn in the "Holy Night" play.
A piercing pain shot through his fingertips, reminding him of last night when, through tear-blurred vision, he perished in a torrent of magic.
He quickly and carefully unfolded the weathered and extremely fragile notebook, and the first sentence that came into view was—
I am the one who steals destiny.
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