The Duel of Rising Stars

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the Academy's Dueling Grounds. This open-air coliseum, made of enchanted stone, had witnessed countless clashes between future rulers, knights, and mages.

Today, it would bear witness to a battle between Ethan Baron and Jackson Hasting.

Students gathered in the stands, eager for a true spectacle. Nobles and commoners alike murmured about Ethan's meteoric rise and whether he could stand against a seasoned warrior like Leonard.

From the Student Council balcony, piercing golden eyes observed—Gabriel Aurelius, the next Pope and strongest student in the Academy.

"Let's see what kind of monster you are, Ethan Baron," he murmured.

Jackson stood tall, clad in enchanted dueling armor, his great sword resting on his shoulder. His reputation as a brilliant tactician and brute force combatant made him a feared opponent.

Ethan, in contrast, wore a simple training uniform—loose but flexible. No armor, no shield. Just himself.

"Are you sure you don't want protection?" Jackson taunted. "You look like you'll break with a single swing."

Ethan merely smiled. "Then hit me."

The instructor raised his hand. A silence fell over the arena.

"Begin!"

Jackson exploded forward like a cannonball, his great sword cleaving through the air.

But Ethan wasn't there.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as Ethan slid past Jackson's strike with inhuman grace.

He didn't just dodge—he predicted.

Jackson pivoted, adjusting instantly, sending another devastating slash. But Ethan flowed like water.

Step. Pivot. Weave.

His body moved in a rhythm ingrained from a lifetime of battle in his past life as the Heavenly Demon King.

To the audience, it looked like Jackson was swinging at a ghost.

"Impossible!" one student muttered. "He's dodging by a hair's width every time!"

But Ethan saw it all—the micro-movements in Jackson's muscles, the shift in his footwork. It was like reading an open book.

And he was about to turn the page.

Ethan Strikes Back

Jackson snarled, frustrated. He activated his Aura Burst, the air around him shimmering with raw power.

"No more running!"

He lunged, his great sword descending like a guillotine.

And that's when Ethan moved.

A blur of motion—not away, but forward.

Lightning-fast counter. Palm strike to the wrist.

Jackson's sword wavered.

Ethan twisted—low sweep kick.

Jackson's footing shattered.

Before the noble could recover, Ethan's fingers traced the air in a familiar pattern. A technique from his past life—Phantom Fang Strike.

BAM!

A shockwave erupted as Ethan's palm struck Leonard's chest with pinpoint force.

The noble skidded back, gasping for air. His stance wavered, his eyes widened in disbelief.

"W-what was that?"

Ethan rolled his shoulders. "A lesson."

Up in the stands, the Student Council watched in silence.

"That technique… that wasn't just skill," one officer muttered.

Gabriel Aurelius leaned forward, intrigued. "No. That was something else."

Something far more dangerous.

Down below, Jackson gritted his teeth, trying to push through the pain.

"You… you're not just some noble brat, are you?"

Ethan smiled. "Now you're catching on."

The battle wasn't over.

But Ethan was done playing.