CHAPTER 189: CLASH OF BLADES

"Are you guys worried about me?" he said, his tone light but proud. "Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’m strong."

Nolan smirked slightly. "You better be."

Tharion nodded once, then turned around, walking toward the back of the arena as his cloak swayed behind him.

Moments later, Kyrion also rose from his seat. He drew his blade from its sheath with a metallic hiss, holding it low by his side as he walked steadily toward the same entrance.

The crowd roared again—two powerful warriors stepping into the light.

The two warriors waited at the back of the arena, standing side by side in tense silence. The crowd outside roared with excitement, their chants echoing through the marble corridors.

"Wow! Kyrion is going to fight Tharion," someone whispered from the stands. "Tharion’s deadly smile... he’s always smiling, even when he’s in pain. That guy is powerful."

"Don’t underestimate either of them," another replied. "Both are exceptional."

A loud clang echoed as the iron gate at the far end began to rise.

"Now," the emissary announced, his voice booming through the arena, "Kyrion—step forward!"

Kyrion walked out through the rising gate, his blade drawn, the edge glinting under the afternoon sun. The crowd erupted in cheers, stomping their feet in anticipation.

"This is one of the matches we’ve all been waiting for!" the emissary shouted. "We’ve seen what he’s capable of in his last battle, but we still don’t know if he’s shown us his full strength! Let’s find out today who will stand victorious!"

Moments later, another gate opened on the opposite side.

"And now—Tharion!"

Tharion emerged slowly, his sword resting casually across his shoulder, a confident grin stretched across his face. The crowd roared even louder. He walked into the arena with calm, easy steps, eyes locked on his opponent.

The air was electric.

"Now," the emissary raised his arm, "may the battle begin!"

The arena thundered with cheers as the match commenced.

Tharion lowered his sword, the edge hovering close to the ground, his usual grin unshaken. Kyrion, on the other hand, lifted his blade high, his eyes sharp and cold.

"Hey," Tharion said with an easy smile, "nice to meet you. I hope you go easy on me."

"Shut up," Kyrion snapped. "I’m not here to make friends."

In a flash, Kyrion vanished—his speed faster than the human eye could follow. He appeared right in front of Tharion, his sword slicing down toward Tharion’s head.

But Tharion moved just as fast, ducking under the blade and twisting his body in a smooth motion. His foot shot up, striking Kyrion across the neck before he leaped back, landing with a grin.

He raised his left hand and wiped an imaginary drop of sweat from his brow. "Oh, that was close. If I hadn’t ducked, I’d be headless by now. Do you actually plan to kill me or what? You’re not holding back at all."

"You’re starting to get on my nerves," Kyrion said, straightening his stance. "But... I’ll give you that—you actually dodged it. Impressive."

His eyes narrowed. "But the next one... you won’t."

Tharion smirked, tightening his grip on his sword. "It seems you underestimate me," he said calmly. "I’m not as strong as you are—I’m aware of that. But you won’t be able to take my life. I have something up my sleeve, so be warned."

Kyrion’s eyes narrowed, a hint of annoyance flashing in them. "How dare a loser like you talk back to me?" His voice dropped, cold and venomous. "I said... die."

Before the words could even settle, Kyrion vanished.

The audience gasped. The stands erupted with confused murmurs—he was too fast to follow. To the untrained eye, he simply disappeared.

But Tharion’s instincts kicked in. His eyes widened as he felt a surge of killing intent behind him. He pushed off the ground instantly, leaping backward into the air.

A blur of steel tore through the space he had just occupied, the sound sharp like lightning cutting the wind.

Before Tharion’s feet could even touch the ground, Kyrion was already there again—appearing right in front of him, his speed blinding. The moment his blade swung for Tharion’s waist, it shimmered with a faint aura of blue mana, slicing through the air like a flash of light.

Tharion reacted purely on reflex. He bent his body backward, the sword slicing just inches above his skin. Sparks danced in the air as the force of the slash passed him.

Then, using the momentum, Tharion flipped backward in midair, landing several feet away with flawless grace. Dust rose around him as he exhaled, his expression steady, though his heart pounded in his chest.

The crowd was silent for a moment—then roared with excitement.

"Did you see that?!" someone shouted. "Tharion actually dodged it!"

Kyrion gritted his teeth, lowering his blade. "Not bad," he said coldly. "You’re faster than I expected."

Tharion smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Told you," he said. "You’re not the only one who’s fast."

Kyrion smirked faintly, lowering his stance as his eyes locked on Tharion. "You know," he said, "you’re actually right. I underestimated you. Maybe it was because I saw your last fight. You were fast back then, but not like this. I was sure that was your limit..." He paused, tightening his grip on his sword. "But I was wrong. Since that battle, you’ve either evolved—or trained hard enough to surpass your own limits."

Tharion chuckled lightly. "Wow, you sound smarter than I thought. You’re actually good at reading people." His expression sharpened. "But now... it’s my turn."

The moment he finished, both warriors lunged. Their blades collided with a deafening crash. The sheer force of their clash sent a violent gust tearing through the arena, kicking up sand and dust in every direction. The ground trembled beneath their feet as the audience shielded their faces from the burst of wind.

Their swords locked for a brief moment, power crackling between them before both men shoved forward, forcing each other back a few steps.