Chapter 120: Lucien Vs Zephyrion [2]

A brilliant golden light erupted from Zephyrion’s palm, forming into a blade of radiant energy. It was a longsword, elegant and imposing, its blade gleaming with a holy radiance. The hilt was wrapped in silver wire, and a single white gem rested at the pommel, pulsing with a soft, divine light. The sword seemed to hum with power, casting faint golden patterns across the arena floor.

"This is Seraph’s Blade," he said, his voice carrying a note of reverence. "A holy armament passed down through my clan for generations. Even restricted, it carries the blessing of the divine."

The weapon’s light cast long shadows across the arena floor, highlighting the edges of Zephyrion’s wings and the sharp lines of his face. It was a sword that demanded attention, that commanded respect.

Lucien’s gaze remained calm. He raised the basic academy sword, its plain steel catching the light in a far more modest way.

"Impressive," Lucien said. "But a sword is only as strong as the one who wields it."

Zephyrion’s smile widened. "That’s exactly what I was going to say."

He moved.

Zephyrion’s wings flared, and he shot forward with blinding speed. Seraph’s Blade cut through the air, trailing a line of golden light as it aimed for Lucien’s shoulder.

Lucien didn’t flinch. At the last moment, he sidestepped, the blade passing inches from him. The wind from the attack stirred his hair, but his expression remained unchanged. He swung his sword in a quick arc, aiming for Zephyrion’s side.

Zephyrion twisted, his wings folding to block the strike. The academy sword clashed against his feathered guard, and sparks of golden and silver light scattered across the arena floor. The impact sent a small shockwave rippling through the air.

Zephyrion leaped back, creating distance. His golden eyes fixed on Lucien, a flicker of interest in them.

"You’re faster than you seem," Zephyrion said, a hint of genuine surprise in his voice.

Lucien lowered his sword slightly. "I’ve been told that before."

Zephyrion chuckled softly. "Good. I was hoping you wouldn’t be boring."

He circulated his Originat through his body, and a soft, golden glow enveloped him. His wings flared slightly as the light intensified, and within the blink of an eye, he disappeared.

A flash of golden light was all that remained, an illusion of his presence that lingered for just a moment before fading.

In an instant, Zephyrion was before Lucien, Seraph’s Blade thrusting forward with deadly precision. The tip gleamed with holy light, aimed directly at Lucien’s shoulder. The speed was immense, the strike ruthless, meant to end the battle before it could truly begin.

The Honor students watching all stopped breathing. Their eyes widened. Was the match going to end already?

Both figures were going all out at the very beginning of the battle.

Zephyrion’s blade, aimed to pierce Lucien’s shoulder, instead pierced thin air.

Lucien was no longer there.

Zephyrion’s eyes narrowed as his blade pierced nothing but air. He had been certain, the thrust was fast, precise, aimed perfectly at Lucien’s shoulder. But the young man had vanished.

"You need to be faster than that." Lucien’s voice came from behind him, calm and almost bored.

Zephyrion laughed, a genuine, delighted sound. His body phased mid-motion, turning on his heel as he swung Seraph’s Blade in a wide arc, trailing golden light.

Lucien was already there, his academy sword rising to meet the strike.

The clash sent a sharp, metallic ring echoing through the coliseum. Sparks of gold and silver scattered like fallen stars across the arena floor.

Zephyrion didn’t pause. He followed up with a quick thrust, then a diagonal slash, then a horizontal cut. Each strike was fast, precise, and relentless, a storm of golden light pressing down on Lucien’s defense.

Lucien moved like water. His sword danced in his grip, deflecting each strike with minimal effort. His feet shifted smoothly across the stone floor, adjusting his position with each swing. He didn’t retreat. He didn’t overcommit. He simply met each attack with calm, controlled precision.

The students watched in stunned silence. The earlier mockery had faded, replaced by genuine curiosity.

"He’s... keeping up with him," one student muttered.

"Zephyrion isn’t holding back," another added. "And that guy is just deflecting everything."

Zephyrion’s smile widened. He pushed harder, his wings flaring as he increased his speed. His sword became a blur of golden light, each strike aimed at a different angle, shoulder, ribs, thigh, neck.

Lucien’s sword met each one. The clashing of steel rang out like a rapid, rhythmic melody.

Zephyrion leaped back, creating distance. His chest rose and fell steadily, but his eyes were sharp, focused.

"You’re good," he admitted. "I didn’t expect that from someone with your cultivation."

Lucien lowered his sword slightly, his expression unchanged. "Cultivation isn’t everything."

Zephyrion chuckled. "No. It isn’t."

Zephyrion raised Seraph’s Blade, and a golden circular rune appeared before him, spinning rapidly. The rune was intricate, layers of holy symbols overlapping, each one pulsing with divine light. The air around it grew warm, and the rune seemed to hum with power as the holy energy around the blade intensified.

"Holy Slash."

He swung. A wave of condensed holy light shot forward, tearing through the air toward Lucien with devastating speed. The attack was massive, wide and blinding, leaving no room for evasion. It was meant to overwhelm, to crush.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. For the first time in the battle, he channeled Originat through his body. A faint, dark silver energy flickered around his form, barely visible, but present. He didn’t pour much into the academy sword, just enough to strengthen it.

He planted his feet and swung his sword upward, not to block, but to cut through the attack itself.

The academy sword met the wave of holy light, and for a moment, they clashed. The air crackled with tension, sparks of golden energy scattering across the arena. The holy light pushed against Lucien’s blade, pressing down with immense force.

But Lucien held firm.

With a sharp twist of his wrist, he split the wave. The holy light parted, passing harmlessly on either side of him, dissipating into the air like mist.