CHAPTER 224: CHAPTER 225: MARCUS’S MATCH

Noel made his way back to the seat he’d used earlier, away from the main crowd. The cheering had barely died down after his victory, but up here, things felt calmer.

"Oi!" a deep voice called out.

He glanced up and saw Balthor waving enthusiastically, a tankard already in hand. "You really took your sweet time, champ."

Noel sat beside him, still catching his breath. "Needed a walk after roasting that guy."

Balthor chuckled. "Roasting? You fried him with that last spell. Kid, I’m telling you—I made a fortune off that fight. These fancy nobles don’t know shit about power when it’s right in front of them."

Noel raised an eyebrow. "A fortune, huh? Then I expect free drinks at the Drunken Hammer for life."

Balthor snorted. "You’ll get your drinks, but only if you keep winning. You’re my lucky charm now."

Noel smirked. "Then take me to wherever you’re placing these bets. Might as well see the place if I’m the one making you rich."

The dwarf looked at him for a second, then grinned. "Heh. Sure. I can get you in. One of the lounges down below—nobles and big names only, but I’ve got connections."

"Perfect." Noel leaned back, eyes scanning the crowd again.

’If there’s a place where money and influence meet... maybe I’ll find something useful.’

A sharp chime echoed through the arena, silencing the low murmur of the crowd. The announcer’s voice boomed seconds later, brimming with energy.

"Up next! Marcus of the Imperial Academy of Valor... versus Aleria Dawnveil of Luceria Grand Academy!"

A wave of applause rolled across the stands. From the left tunnel, Marcus emerged in his deep navy uniform, cape fluttering slightly behind him. His expression was unreadable, jaw set, eyes fixed forward.

From the opposite end, Aleria stepped into view. Her uniform was elegant, trimmed in silver, her violet hair braided tightly behind her head. A magical glaive rested casually across her shoulders, humming faintly with light-aspected mana. Cheers rose louder—Luceria’s students were especially vocal.

"Is that the glaive user?" Noel muttered, narrowing his eyes.

Balthor, still beside him, nodded. "Aye. She’s fast, aggressive, and flashy. But Marcus is solid. If he keeps his cool, he’s got this."

Down below, Marcus and Aleria met at the center of the arena. They exchanged brief nods—respectful, measured.

The announcer raised his hand. "Combatants ready?"

Both answered in sync. "Ready."

Noel leaned forward slightly.

The announcer’s hand dropped. "Begin!"

A burst of wind swept across the arena as the battle began.

The moment the match started, Aleria vanished in a flash of light.

Noel blinked. "Whoa—she’s already in."

She zipped across the arena, glaive spinning with radiant speed. In less than a second, she was behind Marcus, aiming a precise cut at his back.

But Marcus reacted fast.

"Stoneguard," he muttered.

A stone shield snapped up just in time, blocking the strike with a heavy clang. Sparks flew, and Aleria leapt back before her weapon got stuck.

She didn’t slow down.

Another burst of light shot her sideways, and she came in from a different angle. Her glaive moved like it was dancing—clean arcs, impossible to follow.

Marcus stayed still for just a second too long.

The glaive grazed his arm—light magic burning into the sleeve of his uniform.

Noel winced. "Damn. She’s fast."

Marcus took a breath and grounded his stance.

"Azure Flare Strike."

His sword lit up as he slashed forward, sending a wave of blue fire that exploded near Aleria’s feet. She jumped, but a second blast followed—closer this time.

Aleria clicked her tongue, landing further back, breathing a little heavier.

"You’re not bad with that sword," she called. "But I’m not slowing down."

She blinked forward again.

Marcus didn’t wait.

He raised his hand. "Blazing Pillar."

A column of azure fire erupted from the ground where she landed. She twisted midair to avoid the center of the blast, but the heat still caught her leg, singing part of her boot.

Noel leaned in, arms crossed. "He’s adapting to her speed."

Aleria hit the ground rolling, spun, and charged again—glaive now glowing with a light-based enhancement.

Marcus whispered, "Molten Skin."

A faint shimmer of glowing earth and heat coated his arms. He stepped forward to meet her, sword clashing against her glaive.

The impact echoed across the arena.

Each of her blows sparked off his defense—but it was clear now: she was being pushed back.

Then Marcus gritted his teeth and jumped.

"Terra Slam!"

As he came down, the earth beneath Aleria cracked—jagged rocks shooting in a straight line toward her. She jumped to the side, but stumbled slightly on landing. She was starting to lose her footing.

Noel tilted his head. "She’s running out of momentum."

Aleria’s breath was shallow now, her stance looser. Sweat rolled down her temple as she adjusted her grip on the glaive.

She dashed forward one more time, light magic gathering around her boots and shoulders—a final burst.

Marcus didn’t move. He was waiting.

Just as she closed the gap—

"Stoneburst."

The ground beneath her feet exploded in a tight burst of sharp stone shards. She flinched, losing momentum—and that was all Marcus needed.

He planted his foot. "Terra Grip."

Thin lines of mana pulsed into the earth. A moment later, rocky arms surged from the ground, locking around Aleria’s legs and waist in one smooth motion.

Her eyes widened. "What—?!"

Marcus charged, sword glowing.

"Azure Flare Strike."

A short slash, fueled with focused blue fire, hit her square in the chest—but just before impact, a soft ding echoed through the arena.

A golden barrier shimmered into place—her artifact had triggered automatically.

The crowd held their breath as the flames died out.

A second later, the bell rang.

"Victory goes to Marcus of the Imperial Academy of Valor!"

The crowd erupted in cheers—louder than before. This time, Marcus had turned heads.

Noel nodded from above. "Nice. That was clean."

Down below, Marcus stepped back as the stone bindings crumbled. Aleria stood upright, brushing herself off.

She looked at him, then offered a small bow. "You got me."

Marcus nodded silently.

As she walked off the field with grace, Marcus finally turned toward the crowd... and let the corners of his mouth rise just a little.

Noel remained in his seat, arms crossed, eyes scanning the arena as the cheers for Marcus finally began to die down.

"Not bad," he muttered.

Balthor chuckled beside him. "Told ya. That earth-fire mix of his? Brutal when used right."

Noel didn’t reply. His eyes were already on the floating bracket above the arena. Marcus had moved forward. Aleria was out.

But what caught his attention was the next match lighting up on the screen:

Selene von Iskandar vs Varek Moltan

Noel’s expression sharpened slightly.

’So she’s up next...’

He looked toward the tunnel where the next fighters would appear.

’Better keep an eye on this one.’

The crowd was already starting to stir again, murmurs spreading as the name Iskandar echoed through the arena.