CHAPTER 51: FIGHT (3)

Astrael’s boots scraped lightly against the stone as he walked to the centre of the arena, his expression unreadable, calm yet alert. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword, fingers relaxed but ready. His raven black hair shimmered faintly under the rising sun that filtered in from the high windows above.

’Let’s see the result of all those years of training,’ he thought, his usual calm smile still hanging on his lips. His hand was lightly gripping the hilt of the sword.

Truthfully, even he didn’t know how he would measure up.

Sure, he’d trained endlessly, day after day, sparring with the manor guards, testing himself against Captain Avalon, mastering footwork, forms, and theory. But that was under the safety of the Ravenastra estate. Under the watchful eyes of mentors and family.

This was different.

This was real.

"OPEN THE CAGE!" Gauntaur’s loud voice boomed, snapping Astrael from his thoughts.

There was a heavy click, followed by the grinding screech of rusted iron as the gate to the holding cell slid open.

Out stalked the wolf.

[Ironfang Wolf - Low Tier-2]

Its body was long and lean, covered in dense black fur that shimmered faintly under the arena lights. Its eyes glowed faintly yellow, feral and focused. Saliva dripped from between sharp iron-grey teeth. Its limbs were tense, claws scraping the stone, tail stiff like a rod of metal.

The wolf snarled angrily.

GROWL.

It had been interrupted before, robbed of its kill. Now, it was angry.

It looked at Astrael—not with mindless hunger—but with a beast’s instinctual challenge. An unspoken warning.

Astrael’s gaze didn’t waver. His hand remained at his side.

The Ironfang slowly lowered its body, muscles coiling.

Then it lunged.

With a violent snarl, the beast launched forward like a black bolt, claws tearing against the floor, jaws open to crush anything in reach.

Astrael exhaled once. Calmly.

His body shifted. His feet moved.

CLANG!

The sound of steel echoed as Astrael’s blade met the beast’s claw mid-air, deflecting it with a clean, precise parry. The wolf twisted mid-leap, trying to bite from another angle.

Astrael ducked under it, his body bending with effortless grace, then rolled aside. Without any rush or panic, he just moved.

The Ironfang landed, spun, and growled again. Blood hadn’t yet been drawn. It was frustrated.

It attacked again, faster this time—testing his reaction. A feint with a claw, followed by a real bite aimed at the shoulder.

Clink!

The bite landed—but not on flesh. The wolf’s teeth scraped against the sword’s flat edge.

Astrael had read it perfectly.

"I see..." Astrael muttered softly.

He pushed the beast back with a twist of his blade and a shove from his shoulder.

The wolf skidded, growled louder, then charged again.

The audience from the viewing area leaned in. Even Gauntaur narrowed his eyes slightly.

Their movements blurred as the wolf and the boy clashed again and again. But Astrael’s steps remained fluid. Not a single wasted motion.

Then the wolf came from the side—a trick from before.

Astrael was already turning.

His sword gleamed as he muttered under his breath.

[Quick Draw]

A sharp clang echoed through the arena.

A second later, Astrael was standing in the same place—but now with his back facing the wolf, sword already sheathed.

The audience blinked for a second.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then—

—a thin red line appeared across the wolf’s neck. Not deep, but enough to draw blood and force the beast to stop in its tracks.

The wolf’s body tensed, its limbs locking mid-movement while its eyes widened in primal confusion. It hadn’t even seen the blade move. One moment, it was lunging towards its prey, and the next, frozen in place.

The red line slowly thickened.

And then—

—With a quiet, final motion, its head slipped free from its shoulders, rolling a short distance before coming to a stop. A breath later, the rest of its body slumped lifelessly to the ground with a dull thud, the impact sending a puff of dust into the air.

Until the very end, the wolf didn’t know what had happened.

It died without ever realising it’s been beheaded.

The crowd around the arena was stunned into silence.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Some leaned forward, mouths half-open, eyes locked on Astrael as if trying to convince themselves that what they saw happened.

Even among the adventurer trainees, all bravado was gone.

The boy who smiled too easily had just killed a Tier-2 beast in a single strike.

The red-gold dressed youth who experienced the strength of the beast exhaled quietly and muttered under his breath, "Freak."

Only Gauntaur, arms folded, gave a soft grunt of approval.

"...Tch."

He was surprised for a moment, but it vanished quickly. His face returned to the same calm, stern expression, though the flicker in his eyes lingered with interest.

Astrael turned around slowly, the same faint smile playing on his lips as the system sound played in his head.

[Ding!]

[You have acquired the soul energy of a Low Tier-2 Ironfang Wolf]

[+500 EXP]

[Ding!]

[The Divine Talent Plunder was activated]

[The host has acquired:]

[Iron Body]

[Agility +8]

[Strength +9]

Astrael stared at the notification, eyes gleaming.

So this is the true power of Plunder...

Though he had studied its description and guessed how it worked, this was the first time he’d actually experienced it. There was a strange thrill to it—like unlocking a sealed door and finding a chest of treasure behind it.

[Iron Body - Passive: Your body has been hardened through unnatural endurance, granting increased resistance to physical damage and blunt force. Low-tier attacks are easily shrugged off, and fatigue is greatly reduced. Like iron, your form stands firm against impact.]

Reading the ability description, Astrael couldn’t help but leap in joy.

He could already feel the subtle shift in his limbs—the quiet tension that hadn’t been there before. His arms felt heavier, but not slower. His legs, firmer when he moved. His footing? Even more solid. It was as if some invisible armour had wrapped itself beneath his skin.

So it enhances my physical defence. Makes my body more resilient.

He imagined how much punishment he could take in a real battle now. An arrow to the arm? Maybe he could shrug it off. A punch from a low-ranked Aura user? He might not even flinch.

And this was from a Tier-2 beast. What would happen when he defeated stronger monsters?

His heart beat faster at the thought. If I can keep stacking these—piece by piece—what kind of monster will I become?

Before he could indulge the thought further, Gauntaur’s voice rang out.

"Next," he called, his eyes shifting to the side. "You—hooded girl."

The girl who had been standing quietly to Astrael’s right moved forward. Her footsteps were silent, light. Her veil hid most of her face, but the moment she stepped into the centre of the arena, there was a shift in the air.

Astrael’s eyes narrowed slightly, observing her form, the way she carried herself. That one... isn’t just here for show.

And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. Even Gauntaur’s gaze sharpened, his fingers twitching near the axe handle across his back.

"Start," Gauntaur’s loud voice echoed through the arena as the heavy gates creaked open. The corpse of the previous Ironfang Wolf was dragged away by two handlers, leaving a thick trail of dark blood across the stone floor.

Another cage was wheeled into position.

Inside, the new Ironfang Wolf thrashed violently. Its grey fur was darker than the last, its eyes bloodshot and wild. As soon as it caught the scent of blood lingering in the air—its kin’s blood—its fury erupted.

GROWL.

A deep, guttural snarl tore from its throat. Muscles coiled under its thick hide. Its breath came in short bursts. Its fangs gnashed.

"The smell’s driving it mad," someone muttered from the sidelines.

"The girl’s dead meat," another added.

With a sudden CLANG, the cage door slammed open.

The beast didn’t hesitate.

It lunged forward, a blur of claws and teeth, straight toward the lone figure standing calmly at the centre of the arena

The red-gold youth scoffed, arms crossed. "The girl is done for," he said under his breath, his voice tinged with annoyance. His pride still stung after his near-death battle. "She doesn’t even look like she’s gonna move."

He watched, not out of concern, but morbid curiosity. He still couldn’t believe Astrael had taken out the wolf in a single stroke. That wasn’t just talent—that was inhuman.

But this girl? She was quiet the whole time, hadn’t spoken a word. How could she possibly—

FWIP.

A flash of silver.

The wolf, mid-leap, suddenly twisted in the air.

Something had sliced across its shoulder. It was too fast for normal eyes to see what happened.

The girl still hadn’t moved. Her hands were hidden in her long sleeves. Her posture hadn’t shifted. But a short blade, thin and faintly glowing, was now barely visible in her right hand.

The wolf landed, growling, blood dripping from the shallow wound.

It snarled again and lunged.

Then—

SHLIK.

A single step forward. One clean slash.

The wolf’s movement froze mid-charge. Its eyes widened as its body was separated symmetrically into two halves,

Thud.

The beast collapsed, lifeless, before it even understood what happened.

Silence blanketed the arena.