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墨書 Inktalez
In the center of the Gladiatorial Arena, a competition area had long been marked out. This arena was circular and quite large, constructed from hard black stone, rising more than ten feet above the ground. Surrounding the arena was a circle of iron railings, strictly prohibiting any interference with the match.
Outside the competition area were the Nine Stone Seats, arranged in order. These stone chairs were entirely black, with an extravagant and bizarre design, allowing people to sit as they pleased. Seven individuals exhibited various expressions—some were tense, while others remained calm.
Sean Sterling stood in mid-air, his wand trembling slightly in his hand as he whispered obscure phrases. The wand began to glow gradually until it radiated brilliant light, blindingly bright. Suddenly, Sean pointed his wand at the competition area and shouted, "Guardian Barrier."
The dazzling wand seemed as if the sun had exploded, its intense white light cutting through the air like a beam of gold. Gasps erupted from the audience as many were momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness.
With narrowed eyes, Bu focused intently and noticed that all the light converged like water, floating above the competition area. Moments later, this brilliant light began to descend, gradually enveloping the entire circular Competition Platform.
During this process, the glaring light softened slowly, forming a semi-circular Light Barrier that wrapped around the competition area. Through the Diamond Light Screen suspended in mid-air, everyone could clearly see what was happening within the arena.
The Guardian Barrier was a powerful level 5 spell; even if three Intermediate level 4 strong individuals attacked together, this Light Barrier could withstand their assault for over ten minutes before being breached. Sean Sterling, known as the White-eyed Wolf, was an Intermediate level 5 Archmage—such formidable strength could easily sweep through all of Sparta City.
Reynold's previously indifferent gaze shifted slightly upon witnessing Sean Sterling cast a level 5 spell. Strong individuals command respect wherever they go; even someone as proud as him felt this way.
"Alright, you two hurry into the competition area. The first match of the Seed Selection Tournament is about to begin. With my Guardian Barrier in place, you won't face any interruptions," Sean said with a sigh, his expression showing impatience as he waved his hand at Reynold and Babur, urging them to enter quickly.
Both Babur and Reynold nodded in acknowledgment; regardless of circumstances, a powerful Intermediate level 5 individual deserved their respect.
The two moved swiftly and soon arrived at the circular Competition Platform. As they stepped through the semi-circular Light Barrier, it felt as though they had jumped into water, creating ripples of light.
The Guardian Barrier functioned like a protective barrier; without the caster's consent, outsiders found it difficult to enter unless they forced their way in.
Once inside the Competition Platform, standing on the hard black stone surface, Babur appeared serious and tense like a leopard poised to pounce. He gripped an iron rod tightly in his hands; his palms bulged with veins and muscles due to his excessive strength.
Reynold stood casually in the center of the platform with his hands behind his back. His gaze was calm and indifferent as he looked at Babur; it seemed as if he did not even acknowledge his presence at all—his arrogance was unmistakable.
From the moment both stepped onto the Competition Platform, the countdown had already begun.
In a ten-minute match, if neither side can completely incapacitate their opponent or concede defeat within that time, the match will end in a draw.
Babur was calculating, unwilling to take the initiative and risk his own defeat; every second he could delay was advantageous. With someone as proud as Reynold, he certainly wouldn't lower himself to strike first. The longer the match dragged on, the more favorable it would be for him, ideally leading to a draw. Achieving a draw against an opponent like Reynold, by any means necessary, would enhance his reputation.
Unfortunately for Babur, while he was clever, Reynold was no fool; he could easily discern Babur's intentions. With a firm step on the ground, Reynold launched himself forward like an angry hawk swooping down, exuding a powerful aura.
Babur's heart tightened. Facing such a formidable opponent as Reynold left no room for carelessness; the figure was rapidly approaching.
Unarmed, Reynold struck out with an open palm. It appeared unremarkable at first glance, yet the air around his hand surged violently, creating a sharp whistling sound as the fierce energy clashed with the atmosphere.
Tear Wind Palm, a low-level skill that Reilo had mastered long ago.
What seemed like an ordinary strike contained immense force; anyone who underestimated it would surely suffer.
Tear Wind Palm was a basic skill Reilo learned in his early years. As his strength advanced to Low-Level, its power had far surpassed its previous form, reaching an impressive sixth level of mastery.
Outside the arena, Bu's gaze sharpened as he recognized the skill's potency; it surpassed his own Furious Cloud Palm at fifth level. The expressions of the other Six People also grew serious.
Reynold's reputation as the strongest among the younger generation of Sparta City was not unfounded. From this simple palm strike alone, everyone could see just a glimpse of Reynold's formidable strength.
As shadows of his staff danced like a Spiral Vortex, Babur wasted no time in executing his Combat Skills. Faced with what seemed like an ordinary palm strike, he treated it as a grave threat. He only aimed to survive this round; if he could endure these ten minutes, he would consider it a success.
With a flick of his wrist and effortless control over his movements, Reynold demonstrated exquisite mastery of Tear Wind Palm. In response to Babur's pure and powerful defense, he chose not to launch an aggressive attack.
Although he could easily overpower Babur with sheer strength, Reynold's pride drove him to pursue perfection; he looked down upon brute force as a means of victory—this was also why he previously mocked Bu for relying solely on raw power.
With a slight shift in stance, Reynold stepped lightly and skillfully avoided the attack range of Spiral Vortex, quietly appearing at Babur's left side.
Like a shadow passing by, Reynold's palm struck again, decisive and swift, like a snake emerging from its den, with an angle that was tricky and speed that was extreme.
Suddenly, the sound of fabric tearing through the air echoed.
Reynold's hand surged toward Babur within a three-inch radius, the chaotic air around him felt like blades. Before his palm could make contact, the overwhelming force already filled Babur with dread.
Forcing himself to retract his staff, Babur shifted his footing, swinging the staff to block while rapidly retreating. This series of movements was executed without hesitation; he chose to retreat before engaging directly.
If the opponent wanted to retreat, Reynold had no intention of letting him go so easily. For him, taking down Babur effortlessly would showcase his true strength.
He unleashed his palm energy, akin to an eagle's claw, fiercely grabbing at the iron staff that rushed toward him. With a loud thud, he seized the staff, feeling its powerful force as if it had sunk into the ocean.
Reynold's palm remained steady as a mountain, unaffected in the slightest. Leaning forward, he pushed off with his foot and closed in on Babur. With his left hand firmly gripping the iron staff, he yanked it forcefully, pulling Babur's body toward him like a straw doll, leaving no room for resistance.
Just then, Reynold's right hand formed into a claw and viciously reached for Babur's neck. The sixth level of Tear Wind Palm possessed enough power to shatter stone; Babur's fragile neck was no match for it.
A fierce wind rushed at Babur, the intense force disheveled his hair and made it hard for him to keep his eyes open. He felt a chilling sense of danger that made his heart tremble. Without hesitation, he shouted loudly, "I concede!!!"
With that, the fierce energy abruptly stopped, and the whirlwind ceased.
A sense of relief flooded Babur's heart as he broke into a sweat, looking at Reynold’s claw halted less than an inch from his neck.
Though the hand had stopped, the sharpness of its claws had already left four bloody marks on his neck. He had no doubt that Reynold would have struck if he hadn't conceded; otherwise, he would have bled out right there.
"Reynold wins and earns one point; total score: one point. Babur loses and loses one point; total score: negative one point."
Sean Sterling’s voice rang out just in time. The gathered audience clearly heard his announcement. After a brief moment of silence, the arena erupted into deafening cheers.
Reynold released the iron rod in his hand, not even glancing at Babur, and turned to leave. His expression was calm, as if the one who had just won the match was not him, or as if he had merely stepped on an ant, something not worth boasting about.
Babur swallowed hard a few times, watching Reynod's departing figure with eyes full of dread and fear.
The entire match ended in less than three minutes, and the gap in strength between the two was evident. Although Babur could be considered a strong young contender, compared to the powerful and well-established Reynod, he was like a firefly against the bright moon, not daring to compete for brilliance.
The atmosphere was tense; Reynod was deep and unfathomable. Throughout the match, he had only used one skill, a low-level first-tier skill. Yet this seemingly crude low-level skill, when executed by him, exuded an unmatched feeling. Fellow would be a formidable opponent on his path to victory.
The other six competitors also showed varying degrees of apprehension as they watched Reynod's figure approach slowly, as if a great mountain were bearing down upon them, weighing heavily on their hearts.
The passionate uproar in the Gladiatorial Arena had yet to subside, with everyone discussing and marveling at Reynod's formidable strength. At this moment, most believed that first place belonged to Reynod alone, and many who had placed heavy bets on him were feeling quite fortunate.
Although Reynod's odds of winning were only 1:1, far less disparate than those of other competitors, this seemingly foolproof bet felt like easy money. Even if heavy bets were placed on other competitors, if they turned out to be lacking in strength, wouldn’t that mean throwing money away without even making a splash?
Sean Sterling was too lazy to maintain order in the arena any longer. His figure floated gracefully, exuding a carefree demeanor; if it weren't for his one eerily cold eye, he would truly seem unrestrained.
"Next match: Kozmo versus Kashati. You have three minutes to prepare."
Sean Sterling's languid voice echoed throughout the arena. The audience's passion surged like an endless sea; cheers rose and fell like waves, creating a tremendous sound that scattered the clouds around them and made the sunlight even more dazzling.
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