Chapter 119: Lucien Vs Zephyrion

Zephyrion Cross was tall and imposing, with broad shoulders and a commanding presence. His skin had a faint, golden sheen, and his hair was a striking silver-white, flowing down his back like liquid moonlight. Two large, feathered wings extended from his shoulders, their feathers gleaming with a soft, ethereal light. His eyes were a piercing shade of gold, sharp and intelligent, carrying the weight of someone who had seen much and feared little.

He was from the Angel Race.

Zephyrion moved with an effortless grace, his steps light and precise. He wore the standard Honor uniform, but it seemed almost too plain for someone of his bearing. He carried himself like a prince, confident, composed, and utterly unshaken. ℯ

Lucien stepped forward from the other side, his expression calm, his steps unhurried. The students parted as he walked toward the arena, their eyes following him with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

This battle was the most anticipated of all the matches, especially among the ladies. Lucien and Zephyrion were the first and second most handsome in their class. It was like a clash of the most handsome.

"Darling!"

Two familiar voices rang out through the coliseum, overshadowing the murmurs. Lucien paused and turned back to face his wives. They smiled at him, their expressions warm and encouraging. Lucien felt the smile was so innocent that he unconsciously smiled back.

"Win," they said at the same time. They knew their darling was going to win, but that didn’t stop them from showing their support.

As he was about to reply, Ryker’s voice came from the side, "Mentor, win."

Lucien’s smirk widened. He turned and walked toward the arena, his voice carrying across the coliseum with calm certainty.

"That was what I was planning to do. Victory is already at my grasp. Tch."

His arrogant words rang out through the coliseum, surprising and stunning the students into silence.

This wasn’t all. They saw as he walked to where the armaments made by the academy were displayed and picked a sword amongst them.

This move surprised them. He was the first person who didn’t want to use his own Armament. Was it not strong enough?

He entered the arena, and of course, the restriction didn’t activate on him. The students sensed it as they realized he was the weakest cultivator among all of them.

This made them frown. Lucien’s arrogant words were already losing their credibility in their eyes.

Zephyrion, who had already reached the arena, watched as Lucien entered. They stood on opposite sides of each other.

Zephyrion glanced at the Armament in Lucien’s hands. "I wonder why you didn’t bring out your own Armament but took the academy’s instead. Is it that your own Armament is weak?"

His words made the students who were watching realize that must be true. But Lucien’s reply made them think they were hallucinating.

"No," Lucien said calmly. "My Armament isn’t weak. It’s just that if I used it, it would be as if I were bullying you."

Some of the students shook their heads after hearing Lucien’s arrogant words. He was like an arrogant fool at the moment.

It was a huge disappointment.

One student muttered, "All that talk, and he’s the weakest cultivator here?"

Another shook his head. "He’s all mouth. No substance."

A girl near the front sighed. "I was hoping he’d be impressive. But this is just... sad."

The murmurs of disappointment spread through the crowd, their earlier anticipation turning into quiet mockery. They had expected that maybe Lucien was strong, or there was a reason for him attracting two goddesses. But now, it seemed there was nothing impressive about him.

Zephyrion’s lips curled into a faint, amused smile. "Bullying me? With an academy sword and your weak cultivation? You have quite the confidence."

Lucien’s expression didn’t change. He raised the sword, testing its weight. "Confidence? No. It’s just the truth."

Lucien knew what he was saying. The Abyss Carver might not allow the academy’s restriction to work on it. And even if it was restricted, its sharpness couldn’t be suppressed. He also didn’t want to attract attention from certain people in the academy by revealing such a powerful armament in a battle like this.

So he chose to fight with a basic academy sword. It was enough.

Zephyrion’s golden eyes studied him, his smile not fading. "You’re either very confident or very foolish. I’ll find out which soon enough."

Lucien adjusted his grip on the sword, his stance calm and relaxed.

"I hope you won’t disappoint me," Lucien said, making Zephyrion laugh.

The moment "Begin" left Sylas’s lips, Zephyrion raised his hand. A brilliant golden light erupted from his palm, coalescing into a blade of pure radiance.

It was a longsword, elegant and imposing, its blade forged from a metal that seemed to glow with an inner light. The surface was smooth and flawless, catching the light and scattering it in soft, golden patterns across the arena floor. Along the flat of the blade, faint, almost translucent scriptures were etched, pulsing with a gentle, rhythmic glow, ancient words of blessing and power passed down through generations.

The hilt was wrapped in fine silver wire, intricately woven to provide both grip and elegance. At the pommel rested a single white gem, perfectly cut and polished, pulsing with a soft, divine light like a heartbeat. The crossguard swept outward in the shape of folded wings, their tips gleaming with a golden sheen that mirrored the blade’s radiance.

The sword hummed with a faint, harmonious resonance, as if it were not merely a weapon but a living extension of divine will. Even under the academy’s restriction, its presence was undeniable. The holy energy radiating from it pressed gently against Lucien’s senses, warm and suffocating at the same time, like standing too close to a blazing sun.

Zephyrion held the sword with practiced ease, his wings spreading slightly behind him. The blade seemed to sing in his grip, responding to his touch like an old friend.

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