Chapter 46: The Strongest Elite of Class S VS The Strongest Elite of Class A (5)
The colosseum was no longer a ruin.
It was a graveyard of sound and light.
Every breath of wind carried the scream of shattered mana. Every footstep cracked stone that had stood for centuries. The red sky above bled slow, thick, like the world itself was wounded and leaking. Heat rose from the ground in waves, warping the air, making the distant pillars shimmer like mirages. Dust didn't swirl—it hung, suspended in the pressure of two auras colliding, two wills refusing to break. Simple people watching from the simulation feeds would see only flashes and fire. Average students would feel their hearts stutter, their mana flicker, their knees buckle just from the weight of it. But here, at the center of the storm, two men fought like the universe had forgotten how to end.
Lucian Azrael Von Blackstar stood in the eye, calm as death.
His ashen-white hair clung to his forehead with sweat, strands falling into his deep black eyes—eyes that saw too much, remembered too much. His black coat was torn at the shoulder, blood seeping slow from a shallow cut, but he didn't feel it. His saber moved like thought itself—parry, deflect, counter—each motion clean, no wasted breath, no wasted motion. Across from him, Johnathan Almek Leonborne roared like a beast unchained, his golden mane wild in the mana winds, his greatsword Aurumfang blazing with radiant flame that lit the dust gold and turned the shadows into burning gold. Every swing carved the air, left trails of fire that hissed and died against Lucian's blade like dying stars.
"How do you know my lineage, Blackstar?!" Johnathan shouted again, voice raw with fury and adrenaline, cracking like thunder. He brought Aurumfang down in a vertical slash that split the ground where Lucian had stood a heartbeat before, the impact sending a shockwave that shattered a nearby pillar into dust. "Answer me! You shouldn't know—I've never told anyone! Not even my teammates! How?!"
Lucian didn't answer.
He parried the next swing with mechanical precision, the clash sending sparks exploding outward like a forge hammer on anvil. CLANG. The sound rang sharp, echoed off broken walls, vibrated in the teeth. Another swing—CRASH—shattered a chunk of wall, stone tumbling into the sands like bones from a fresh grave. A third—BOOM—and the force cracked the arena floor in a spiderweb that raced thirty meters, dust billowing up in a choking cloud.
But Lucian's mind wasn't here.
His body fought on instinct—refined, brutal, perfect from two lifetimes of blood and steel, of death and rebirth. His thoughts, though—they were far away, chasing ghosts across timelines, across games, across lives he'd lived, died in, and walked away from.
His gaze kept flickering toward the far side of the battlefield, where Celestia Silveria Van Lumina's divine radiance still lingered like a ghost in the air. The light had faded, but the weight of it remained—heavy, suffocating, divine in a way that made his skin crawl, his mana recoil. It wasn't the glow of a princess. It wasn't the aura of a demigod. It was godhood—pure, absolute, earned.
'That divinity Silvie just showed… it's not normal,' Lucian thought grimly, blocking another slash and countering with a horizontal cut that tore through Johnathan's golden aura like wet paper. The Lionborne grunted, stumbled, but didn't fall—his regeneration kicking in, wounds closing almost as fast as they opened. 'That wasn't demigod-level. That was godhood. Not divine bloodline. Not inherited grace. Pure ascension. The kind that breaks worlds, rewrites laws, makes fate itself flinch.'
Johnathan growled, sweat dripping down his temple, mixing with blood from a cut on his cheek. "You're not even trying to kill me, are you?!" he snarled, swinging wild now, desperation creeping into his voice like rust. "You're toying with me! Like I'm nothing! Like this is a game to you!"
Lucian ignored him.
His mind raced faster than his blade, piecing together fragments of memory, of games, of lives he'd lived and lost. He remembered the first time he saw Celestia cry—not in this life, but in the first transmigration, when the world ended and he died in her arms. He remembered her scream. He remembered the way her light had flickered, dimmed, died with him.
'In our past lives together, she and I stood at the same height—demigods. Equal in strength, equal in power. We fought side by side, back to back, against gods and monsters. We were legends. But that aura I just felt? That wasn't something achievable by the divinely blessed. That was the descent of a true deity. She achieved godhood. Alone. Without me. After I was gone.'
He sidestepped Johnathan's thrust with lazy grace, letting his saber glide along the man's blade to deflect the force. His expression darkened, a shadow crossing his face like a storm rolling in.
'But how? For what purpose? Why now? Why here?'
He exhaled through his nose, a chill running down his spine like ice water in his veins.
'Wait… Silvie… I know her. I know how she thinks. After my death in the first life, she changed. No—she broke. She's the type who can't stand losing someone precious. She clings, obsesses, consumes. That's her nature… that's her love. The kind that doesn't let go, even when it should. Even when it destroys.'
Lucian's breath hitched as the realization sank in, cold and heavy like a blade in the gut.
'Don't tell me… she ascended to godhood just to bring me back.'
He almost lost his composure for a second—his parry came a fraction late, and Johnathan's blade grazed his shoulder, tearing cloth and drawing a thin line of blood. The Lionborne grinned, sensing weakness, eyes flashing. "Got you! Finally! You're not untouchable, Blackstar!"
Lucian didn't flinch.
He struck back with the hilt of his saber, driving it into Johnathan's stomach with a crack of bone on mana. The impact folded the man in half, sent him skidding back several meters, boots carving trenches in the stone. Johnathan coughed, blood flecking his lips, but he laughed—wild, defiant, alive. "Hah… you kick harder than your blade cuts. What's wrong, Blackstar? You're spacing out! Or are you just scared? Afraid the Lionborne will finally put you down?"
Lucian didn't answer.
His eyes were distant, the gears of his mind turning rapidly, grinding against truths he didn't want to face. He saw it now—Celestia on her knees in a throne room of light, wings of mana crumbling, halo cracking, screaming his name into the void. He saw her burn worlds. He saw her break fate.
'If Silvie became a god by defying fate… then the timeline itself has already been altered. Which means—'
His thoughts froze, a cold knot in his chest.
'Vennie. That damn woman. In my second life, she couldn't care less about me until I saved her from falling into villainy. She was cold, cruel, looked down on everyone like ants. But this time, she's been… different. More self-aware. More persistent. Obsessive even. Following me, watching me, smiling like she knows something I don't. Like she's seen me die.'
He could almost see her now—crimson eyes shimmering with devotion, that smirk that said I've seen you die, and I won't let it happen again. You're mine now.
'There's a possibility she's a regressor too. But… how? Unless—'
He inhaled sharply, the pieces clicking into place like a blade sliding home.
'Unless the Goddess of Fate and Time gave her the Eye of Chronos as well.'
His mind replayed the storylines of The Chronicles of Eden's War: Crimson Fate—the four interconnected games that once defined the destinies of the world in his second life. He'd played them all, lived them, died in them, won in them, broken them.
'The fourth protagonist… yeah. He was a hybrid. Half-Demon, Half-Angel, Half-Human. A walking contradiction. He was a regressor too. That's how he kept repeating his timeline to save his world. The Eye of Chronos… was the artifact that made it possible. A single tear from the Goddess herself, capable of rewinding existence to a single moment. A reset button for reality.'
Lucian's hand trembled slightly as he gripped his saber tighter, the leather creaking under his fingers.
'If that's the case—Silvie might've used the Eye once, turning back time to this moment. To the academy. To me. And if Vennie got another Eye from the same goddess… this entire world could be a fractured timeline. A splinter born from overlapping regressions. Two women, both obsessed, both willing to break reality itself to keep me. One wants to save me. The other wants to own me.'
He smirked bitterly, a dark laugh trapped in his throat.
'Just my luck. Two yanderes possibly messing with the laws of time itself, and I'm the center of their obsession. Great. Absolutely great. One rewound the world to hold my hand. The other rewound it to chain me to her side. And fate? Fate's probably laughing its ass off somewhere, sipping tea, watching the chaos.'
Johnathan charged again, roaring like a beast unchained, Aurumfang blazing brighter than the sun. "Answer me, damn it! How do you know who I am?! What aren't you telling me? Are you a spy? A traitor? Or just some freak who reads minds?!"
Lucian sighed, raising his saber lazily and deflecting the blow like it was nothing. The impact sent a shockwave that cracked the ground between them, dust exploding upward. "You sure ask a lot for someone who can't even land a clean hit," he muttered dryly, voice flat, unimpressed, almost bored.
"You bastard!" Johnathan's golden aura flared violently, the Lionborn bloodline awakening fully now—his muscles bulged, his eyes glowed like molten gold, his roar echoed across the arena like a lion's challenge to the heavens. "I'll make you talk! I'll make you bleed! Lionborn Art — Solar Fang!"
Aurumfang ignited, mana condensing into a massive lion's head made of pure light, roaring as it lunged forward, jaws wide, flames dripping like saliva. The ground shattered beneath it, the air itself burning, the heat warping reality.
Lucian didn't move.
Not at first.
Then—he stepped forward.
"Hybrid Blade Demonic Art — Third Form: Eclipse."
The world darkened.
A ring of black-silver light erupted around Lucian, swallowing Johnathan's golden aura whole. The lion's head froze mid-roar, cracked, shattered into a thousand glowing fragments that fell like dying stars. Johnathan screamed as his mana was drained, his greatsword dimming, his body trembling under the weight of Lucian's presence—cold, absolute, final. The air turned thick, heavy, like the world itself was holding its breath.
When the light returned, Johnathan knelt defeated, Aurumfang planted in the ground like a crutch, head bowed, chest heaving. Blood dripped from his hands, his face pale but defiant, his golden eyes still burning with pride.
Lucian sheathed his saber with a soft click.
"Yield."
Johnathan's voice was hoarse, broken, but proud. "I… yield."
The simulation chime rang out—clear, final, triumphant.
[Team 32 — Total Victory. Simulation Exam Complete.]
Lucian stood over him, the wind catching his coat, his ashen hair.
He didn't smile.
He didn't gloat.
He just looked up—at the red sky, at the fading light, at the weight of two lifetimes and two women who'd broken time itself for him.
'Let them come,' he thought, his smirk returning, sharp and cold. 'Let fate try to write me out again. I've already won.'
Their blades collided once more, and the resulting shockwave tore through the entire arena—
the clash of a Lionborn chosen by fate against the forgotten demon who walked beyond it.