In the center of the arena, Charles and Kurogane Ikki faced each other.
"I sensed that sharpened, restrained aura of yours from the start, Ikki. Didn't expect we'd get to cross blades so soon," Charles said with a smile.
Ikki nodded. "I'm not sure what exactly you mean by aura, but I appreciate the recognition. Let me return the favor with everything I've got!"
"That's what I like to hear!" Charles shifted into a fighting stance.
"Manifest—Yamato."
Ikki extended his hand, and a katana appeared, as black as a raven's feathers. His Noble Arm, Yamato, materialized—its design somber and refined, a true reflection of its master.
Without wasting another word, both fighters launched forward at the same time.
They weren't far apart to begin with—within seconds, they clashed.
Ikki struck first: a classic men slash—straight down from above. A textbook move in kendo, but when executed by Ikki, it carried astonishing force. One strike was enough to reveal the sheer refinement of his swordsmanship.
Charles didn't call on his Dragon Slayer magic—he wanted to fight Ikki in pure martial terms.
He stepped back to dodge the downward blade, but Ikki's wrist twisted mid-motion, turning the vertical cut into a horizontal sweep mid-air.
Charles raised his arm and pressed his palm directly against the sword's flat edge, flicking his fingers. A crisp ping echoed through the arena.
Ikki's hand jolted as a powerful vibration coursed through the blade—like being shocked by lightning.
He leapt backward, rotating his wrist to steady the trembling weapon.
"That was... inch-force, wasn't it? So Charles is that skilled in martial arts too!" Ikki said, surprisingly cheerful.
To encounter such a technique, especially from the famed Shenlong Temple, this fight would yield valuable experience.
Charles raised a hand. "Shenlong Temple secret technique—Cicada Cry."
It was one of the select few martial skills Charles had chosen to master. Shenlong Temple's arts were vast, and rather than learning them all, he'd focused on a handful that suited his style.
Cicada Cry was designed to counter armed opponents—using inch-force to send high-frequency vibrations through a weapon, disrupting the user's grip.
Ikki had his own techniques based on similar principles, and upon experiencing Charles's technique firsthand, he understood it better.
His fighting spirit surged. He raised Yamato and attacked again. Charles responded with sharp hand chops, deflecting blade after blade.
Yamato's edge scraped against the dragon-scale plating of Charles's armguard, showering sparks across the arena. To Ikki, it felt like striking a fortress—no matter how fast or precise his swings, nothing could break through.
But he didn't falter. Every move taught him more—he absorbed Charles's techniques and something even deeper.
Ikki wasn't just a swordsman; he was well-versed in various martial arts styles.
Unlike swordplay, unarmed combat was more flexible. Its range and raw power might be inferior, but it allowed smoother transitions between offense and defense—after all, humans had two arms.
Both of them possessed extraordinary skill, and their exchange was breathtaking. But not everyone could appreciate it.
In the audience, Student Council President Tōdō Tōka watched with unblinking focus.
As a disciple of the Battle God, she might've been the only one truly grasping the intensity of the match. If she were in the arena without using her ability, she doubted she could match either one in pure martial skill.
"Are they just playing around?"
"This is boring. Why aren't they fighting for real?"
"We came to see powers clash, not this."
The murmurs around her filled Tōdō with frustration and disappointment.
On one hand, she was angry that such refined, masterful combat was being dismissed. On the other, she was disheartened that so few at Hagun could even recognize the level of skill on display.
Were they only interested in flashy explosions of magical power? Couldn't they see the elegance in this exchange?
But down below, the two fighters weren't thinking about that at all. As the duel escalated, both had fully immersed themselves in the moment.
In a blur, Ikki unleashed a dazzling net of slashes—strike after strike woven into a seamless pattern.
"Beautiful!" Charles praised. Even at Shenlong Temple, few could execute so many precise, stable cuts in such rapid succession.
The difference in national martial styles was clear—Shenlong Temple emphasized form and spirit over external speed and power.
But no matter the path, true mastery converged. Ikki's strength was undeniable.
Charles's fighting spirit soared. He inhaled deeply and moved.
Ding! Clang! Clack!
With every shifting hand formation, Charles struck Yamato's edge mid-swing, redirecting each strike. A barrage of clangs rang out across the arena as he blocked every attack flawlessly.
Suddenly, Ikki changed his trajectory—switching from a slash to a stab.
Charles moved to slap the blade aside with the back of his hand, but the thrust carried exceptional force—it pressed through and kept going.
"Secret Sword #1: Rhino Thrust!"
Ikki hadn't learned traditional swordsmanship through formal training. He'd "stolen" every technique.
His gift allowed him to analyze most styles within a minute, fully grasping their structure, principles, and counters.
Through this, he'd accumulated a vast library of swordsmanship—and then elevated it by correcting flaws and synthesizing a personalized system.
But it wasn't just mimicry. Ikki had developed seven unique secret swords—culminations of experience and insight.
Rhino Thrust, the first of the seven, focused all bodily strength into a single point. It was the ultimate anti-material technique.
What made it dangerous was that Ikki had buried it within a chain of normal attacks—so well that even Charles was caught off guard.
The blade tip struck Charles square in the torso—but it didn't pierce. His skin remained unbroken. Instead, the stone floor beneath his feet cracked apart.
Ikki's eyes widened. Charles had an A-rank defense rating, but that was supposed to be from his magic aura. Yet just now, he'd sensed no magic surrounding his body.
Which meant…
"That was… martial technique?" Ikki gasped.
Charles nodded. "Shenlong Temple secret technique: Four Symbols Fist—Black Tortoise: Mount Tai."
Named after the most revered peak in his homeland, this technique embodied the principle of immovability to its extreme.
Charles had linked his body to the earth itself—only a blow strong enough to shatter the ground could break his stance.
Realizing the hit had failed, Ikki immediately retreated. The two stared at one another—then charged again.
The battle… had only just begun.
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