Subtitle: In a duel bound by honor and limits, one act of defiance exposes a power the world was never meant to see.
In the training ground surrounded by four dukes, their children, and their grandchildren, everyone's attention was locked on the stage where an epic battle was unfolding. The air was heavy with anticipation, the smell of steel and dust mingling as hearts pounded in rhythm with the clashing swords.
It was the fight between the prince and the prodigy once again—a rivalry that had already become legend. The crowd roared for the prince to win, their cheers echoing through the barrier-protected arena. Only one man remained silent—Ray's father, his eyes calm yet gleaming with fierce pride, waiting for his son to once again topple the favored heir.
The moment the referee said, "Begin!" Both Ray and Lucas lunged forward, swords flashing. The sharp clang of steel filled the air as their sword forces collided, the ground trembling faintly under their strikes. Sparks flickered between each clash like fleeting stars. Both fighters moved with lethal grace, their eyes scanning for the slightest weakness in the other's form.
Lucas had changed since their last bout. The arrogance in his stance was gone, replaced by tempered confidence. His blade no longer wavered—every strike measured, every parry deliberate. Yet Ray, on the other hand, had grown sharper still. His movements flowed with instinctive precision, honed through countless battles and harsh training in the wild under his father's watchful gaze. He had refined his basics until they had become second nature—each swing, a blend of instinct and strategy.
As the tempo rose, Lucas's sword flared with mid-Qi-stage sword force, his energy shimmering like heat haze. Ray's eyes narrowed, and he matched him instantly—his own sword glowing with equal power.
Whish! Clang! Whish! Clang! Whish! Clang!
Each motion cut through the air with a whistle; each impact rang like thunder across the stage. The spectators leaned forward, breath caught in their throats, unable to tear their eyes away.
After a long exchange, Ray decided this was enough. His expression sharpened as he began to fight a little more seriously, activating his spiritual cultivation of the first Qi stage. The air around him rippled with power. Lucas, unwilling to be outdone, followed suit—but to his dismay, Ray's energy was far denser, his core far deeper and more monstrous in capacity.
Even though Lucas had awakened his cultivation in the academy's best awakening hall and consumed rare pills, he couldn't match Ray's raw foundation. The gap was terrifyingly vast—the kind of difference that could define entire destinies.
Lucas's brow furrowed. He could tell where this was going—and he didn't like it. His gaze flicked toward the referee, and with a subtle nod, the man understood. The referee discreetly increased the formation limit from the first to the second Qi stage.
Instantly, Lucas's strikes grew heavier and faster. The pressure on Ray intensified. Yet even then, Ray met every blow with calm precision, parrying one after another. The frustration on Lucas's face deepened. Gritting his teeth, he signaled again, and the referee—sweating slightly—raised the limit once more, this time to the third Qi stage.
Now, Lucas began to press the advantage.
Ray, seeing the unfair play, smiled faintly—a cold, confident smile that sent a ripple through the crowd. He continued to defend, one-on-one, without faltering. But Lucas wasn't satisfied. Now that he could use third-stage cultivation, he pushed even further, unleashing his late-stage sword force.
The air seemed to crack.
And then—Ray's sword force exploded in turn, also at the late Qi stage.
This time, the crowd gasped in unison. Even the dukes stirred, exchanging glances of disbelief. Such power required an exceptionally tempered body. Lucas could barely maintain his stance; every muscle in his arm trembled with the strain. He relied solely on his cultivation to support his sword force, his physical foundation comparatively weak.
Lucas had always prioritized rapid cultivation over body refinement. He believed overwhelming power would make up for any weakness—that next time he met Ray, he would crush him easily. But now, face-to-face with Ray's balanced might, his confidence faltered. Ray's talent was undeniable—his core, deeper and purer than Lucas could imagine.
The dukes began to notice. Murmurs spread among them like wind through dry leaves.
Lucas, gritting his teeth, made a reckless decision. Though it would be shameful, he signaled once again—demanding the referee raise the level higher. But as the referee moved, an overwhelming aura surged across the arena. He froze. Duke Robert, standing like an unmoving mountain on the sidelines, was staring at him with killing intent.
If he dared to increase it further, Robert would not let it pass.
The other dukes exchanged solemn nods—except for Duke Leonardo Montclair, whose expression darkened. He sighed, his sharp eyes lingering on Robert and then on Ray.
Leonardo knew this outcome was inevitable. Robert's lineage had already produced one monstrous genius—John, the grandson he had once proudly claimed as a prodigy of both the Walker and Montclair bloodlines. But now, another had appeared—Ray, the second and even more terrifying successor. Soon, Robert himself would ascend to the higher realms, leaving behind not just one but two extraordinary talents to carry his legacy.
Leonardo found that thought deeply irritating. For years, he had believed John would be the one to rise above all others—a genius born from both his daughter Roxanne's Montclair blood and the Walker family's strength. He had envisioned John inheriting the Walker estate and, in doing so, quietly bolstering the Montclair family's influence from within. But now, with Ray's brilliance eclipsing even John's potential, all of Leonardo's careful plans wavered. This unexpected variable threatened to unravel everything he had schemed for, leaving him to watch helplessly as Robert's lineage once again outshone his own.
The referee, drenched in cold sweat, looked between Duke Robert and Duke Leonardo, trapped between fear and greed. Robert stood like an immovable mountain, his aura quietly pressing down on the entire arena—a silent warning that froze the very air. Across from him, Leonardo's gaze was cold, sharp, and calculating, his expression unreadable yet commanding.
The referee hesitated, trembling slightly as the two dukes' invisible auras clashed. Every heartbeat felt like thunder in his ears. He knew defying Robert could ruin him—but defying Leonardo, who had already paid him handsomely, would destroy everything he had built in the shadows.
When Leonardo gave a slow, deliberate nod, the referee's heart sank. His conscience screamed, but the weight of gold and influence smothered it into silence. Clenching his fists, he took a shaky breath and made his choice.
He removed the formation limit completely.
At once, the arena trembled as if awakening from restraint. The invisible barrier that had held the energy in check shattered like glass. The ground quivered, and the sky above the formation shimmered with violent waves of Qi.
Lucas, who had been barely maintaining his edge, suddenly felt the world shift. The pressure around him vanished—the restrictions that had bound his strength were gone. His Qi flared wildly, bursting forth like a storm breaking its dam.
Third stage… fourth… fifth… And finally, the energy in his core surged to the sixth Qi stage. The air rippled with his power, the ground cracking beneath his feet. The spectators shielded their eyes from the swirling dust and energy waves radiating from his body.
Lucas's lips curled into a triumphant, almost feral grin. His voice echoed across the trembling arena, sharp and brimming with arrogance.
"This time," he sneered, his aura crackling with murderous intent, "I am going to win."
Ray's expression tightened. He could feel it—the overwhelming difference in their cultivation. His instincts told him the battle was no longer one he could win. Before the rising pressure crushed him completely, he took a breath, ready to speak.
"I sur—"
But Lucas didn't let him finish.
The instant the word began to leave Ray's mouth, Lucas stepped forward, releasing his full cultivation without mercy. The sixth Qi stage aura exploded outward, slamming against the arena floor like a crashing wave. The air vibrated; cracks spiderwebbed across the reinforced ground.
Ray's breath caught in his throat. There was no choice left—fight or fall.
Lightning flickered beneath his boots as his soul cultivation flared to the fourth Qi stage. Intricate runes of movement ignited around his feet, glowing with azure light. In a flash, he vanished, leaving only streaks of lightning in his wake.
The crowd gasped as Ray reappeared in another corner of the stage, dodging Lucas's violent slashes by a hair's breadth. His movements were fluid, almost ghostly—a blur of light and motion. Each of Lucas's sword-force strikes tore through the air, carving lines of destruction where Ray had stood moments before.
Lucas roared in frustration, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Stand still!" he shouted, unleashing another barrage of attacks. But Ray only moved faster, his focus razor-sharp, his breathing calm despite the chaos.
And then—silence.
Lucas suddenly stopped, his sword still trembling in his grip. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to control his rage. Slowly, he slid the blade back into its sheath, his eyes narrowing with a dark glint of cunning.
Ray frowned, lowering his stance slightly, thinking Lucas had finally conceded. But then, Lucas reached to his side—and drew something out.
The metallic click that followed made Ray's blood run cold.
In Lucas's hand gleamed a sleek, dark weapon—its barrel engraved with runic circuitry, faintly glowing with spiritual light. The strange hum it emitted sent chills through the crowd.
It was a gun.
Ray's heart skipped a beat. That weapon… it wasn't supposed to exist yet. Not here. Not now. Ophelia, its inventor, hadn't even revealed it to this world yet.
His eyes widened with disbelief and fury.
"Why do you have that weapon?" Ray shouted, his voice cracking with anger that carried across the silent arena.