Chapter 121: Lucien Vs Zephyrion [3]

The entire Coliseum fell silent as they watched Lucien defend against a skill-powered attack with just a basic academy sword and a faint trace of Originat.

The students stared in disbelief. Their earlier mockery was gone, replaced by something else. Curiosity.

It seems you can’t judge a book by its cover. There’s more to Lucien than the eyes can see.

Zephyrion’s smile widened, a flicker of genuine excitement in his golden eyes. "Interesting. You’re not just talk."

Lucien lowered his sword, his expression unchanged. A faint trace of Originat still lingered around his form before fading.

He didn’t reply. He was thinking of how to dominate this young man.

Absolute Domination to him is when an opponent uses all of their strength, all of their trump cards, yet they are still like a breeze to you when everything about you says you are far weaker than them.

Zephyrion didn’t feel angry at Lucien’s silence. Instead, he moved again.

This time, he raised Seraph’s Blade higher, and the golden rune before him grew larger. But something was different. The holy light around his sword didn’t just glow, it sharpened. It condensed. The air around the blade seemed to twist, the golden energy becoming denser, more focused.

Sword Qi.

Zephyrion’s wings flared, and he swung.

"Holy Slash!"

This time, the wave of holy light that shot forward was different. It wasn’t just a wave, it was a blade of condensed light, sharp and precise, carrying the weight of his will. The Sword Qi woven into the attack made it faster, sharper, deadlier.

The students leaned forward, their breath caught in their throats. They could feel the difference. This attack was meant to end the battle.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed slightly. He could feel the shift in the attack, the sharpness, the intent. It was far more dangerous than the previous one.

He’s using Sword Qi. Good. That means he’s serious.

Lucien channeled Originat through his body once more. This time, he poured a little more into the academy sword. Not much, just enough to strengthen it, to match the sharpness of the attack.

He planted his feet, raised his sword, and swung, not to block, but to cut.

The academy sword met the blade of condensed light, and for a moment, they clashed. Sparks of golden and silver energy scattered across the arena, the air crackling with tension. The Sword Qi pressed against Lucien’s blade, pushing, searching for a gap.

But Lucien held firm.

With a sharp twist of his wrist, he cut through the attack. The blade of light split, passing harmlessly on either side of him, dissipating into the air like mist.

The students stared. Some had their mouths open. Others had forgotten to breathe.

Zephyrion’s eyes widened slightly. His smile returned, wider, more genuine.

"You cut through Sword Qi with a basic academy sword," he said, his voice carrying a note of disbelief. "That’s not something just anyone can do."

Lucien lowered his sword again, his expression unchanged. "I told you. Cultivation isn’t everything."

Zephyrion laughed, a genuine, delighted sound. "This is getting more interesting by the minute."

Hearing his words, Lucien shook his head and decided to take things to the next level and force him to the edge of survival.

He raised his sword to the side, horizontally, the plain academy blade catching the dim light. He exhaled slowly, his breathing deepening into a steady rhythm.

Then he began to take steps forward.

Slow. Deliberate. Each footfall landed with a measured cadence that seemed to press against the hearts of everyone watching. It wasn’t just movement, it was a declaration. A promise.

The students felt it. The rhythm of his steps seemed to synchronize with their own heartbeats, each one pulling them forward against their will.

"I am planning to strike like this," Lucien said, his voice low and steady. "And I will strike only three times."

He paused, his gaze locking onto Zephyrion.

"And note my third attack isn’t something you can dodge. All you can do is bear the brunt of the blade and survive."

Everywhere fell into brief silence. The coliseum held its breath.

Even Sylas was silent, shaken by Lucien’s domineering words. His sharp eyes studied the young man, measuring him. Can he do it?

"It’s not a matter of arrogance," Lucien continued, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. "It’s a matter of fact."

Lucien’s voice carried across the coliseum, calm and absolute. The words hung in the air like a blade suspended over the crowd.

The students’ gazes were on Lucien. They could feel the fact in his words. They all watched, planning to see how this battle would unfold.

Zephyrion, who heard Lucien’s words, was first stunned before he laughed out.

"Three strikes?" Zephyrion repeated, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "And you think I can’t dodge the third?"

Lucien’s expression didn’t change. "You can try. But it won’t matter."

Zephyrion’s wings flared slightly. "You seem confident."

Lucien took another step forward. "I’m not confident. I’m certain."

"I am starting," Lucien told Zephyrion.

Zephyrion raised Seraph’s Blade, golden light gathering around its edge. He was ready. He had to be.

Lucien took another step.

One.

Two.

Three.

The rhythm of his steps seemed to tighten around the coliseum like a vice.

Then suddenly, everyone watched as lightning streaked from Lucien’s body and thunder roared. They watched this appear, then all they saw in his place was streaks of lightning.

Lucien’s figure had disappeared.

When they searched the arena for him, they saw he had appeared before Zephyrion, close, sudden, his form materializing from the fading light of the lightning.

He raised the sword armament in his hands upwards, Originat pouring into it. The basic academy sword, which had seemed so plain moments before, now hummed with dark silver energy. The air around the blade seemed to warp, the pressure building as he held the sword poised.

Then he swung downwards.

The blade cut through the air with a sound like tearing silk. It wasn’t just a swing, it was a statement. The very air before the blade seemed to part, splitting as if the sword had carved a seam through the atmosphere itself. A visible distortion rippled outward from the blade’s path, the air separating and flowing around the edge like water around a stone.

Zephyrion’s eyes widened.

"First Strike."

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