The four remaining students stood in the dirt. Instructor Thorne pointed to the two center rings.
Jin walked to his circle. His opponent was a broad-shouldered boy holding a thick iron longsword. The weapon was very similar in weight to Jin's own falchion. The boy was Foundation Level 9. His aura was heavy, steady, and disciplined.
"Begin," the referee shouted.
The boy charged. Jin met him in the middle. Their swords crashed together in the air.
Clang.
The impact sent a sharp shockwave straight up Jin's arms. The boy was incredibly strong. There was no easy opening here. The boy did not leave his guard wide. He did not make stupid mistakes. He just kept swinging with heavy, calculated strikes.
Jin blocked a downward chop. He pushed the blade aside and swung at the boy's ribs. The boy stepped back quickly, the tip of Jin's sword grazing the front of his leather armor.
They fought for five straight minutes. The sound of heavy iron hitting iron echoed across the massive room. Jin's breathing grew harsh. His muscles burned deeply. His Level 9 Aether reserves were draining fast. Every time the blades met, it felt like hitting a solid brick wall. They were perfectly matched in physical strength.
The boy raised his sword for a heavy overhead strike. He committed his entire body weight to the swing, hoping to crush Jin's guard.
Jin saw the timing. He didn't block. He sidestepped to the left at the last possible second. The boy's sword missed completely and buried itself deep into the packed dirt.
Before the boy could pull the heavy blade out, Jin spun and slammed the flat side of his heavy falchion directly into the back of the boy's knees.
The boy collapsed backward with a loud grunt. Jin stepped forward and rested the dull edge of his blade against the boy's throat.
The boy let go of his sword handle. He raised his empty hands. He yielded.
"Winner," the referee yelled.
Jin lowered his sword. His hands were shaking slightly from sheer muscle fatigue. He walked out of the ring. He had survived, but his tank was almost completely empty.
Instructor Thorne stepped forward. "The semi-finals are over. You have twenty minutes to recover. Then, the final match."
Jin walked back to the cold steel wall. He sat down hard in the dirt. He dropped his sword next to him. His chest heaved.
Luna quickly handed him a leather water skin. Jin took it and drank half of it in one gulp. He poured the rest over his head to cool his burning skin.
"He hits hard," Jin muttered, wiping muddy water from his eyes.
"You look terrible," Rian said. His own left eye was still completely swollen shut from his earlier loss.
Jin closed his eyes. He crossed his legs and started his breathing technique. He inhaled deeply, forcing the ambient Aether of the arena into his lungs. Twenty minutes was nothing. It was barely enough time to catch his breath, let alone refill his empty core. But he took what he could get. He focused entirely on repairing his torn muscle fibers.
He opened his eyes when Thorne blew a sharp metal whistle.
Time was up.
Jin stood up. He picked up his heavy iron falchion. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds now. He ignored the deep ache in his shoulders and walked toward the single chalk circle in the exact center of the arena.
The tall boy in the black tunic was already waiting.
He wore his dull iron gauntlets. He stood completely still. He hadn't even broken a sweat during his semi-final match. His breathing was slow and entirely silent. He was at the Half-Step Core Formation Realm. His body was fundamentally different from a normal human. His flesh and bones were saturated with pure energy.
Jin stepped over the white chalk line. He gripped his sword with both hands.
He knew the exact math. The odds of winning were zero. The physical gap was simply too wide to cross with a dull iron sword and tired muscles. But yielding before the fight even started was not an option. He needed to feel the difference in power himself. He needed to know exactly how hard a Core Formation beast was going to hit in the jungle.
"Begin," the referee shouted.
Jin pushed every single drop of his remaining Aether into his legs. He exploded forward. He raised his massive falchion high and brought it down in a brutal, straight chop aimed directly at the boy's left shoulder.
The tall boy did not dodge. He didn't even shift his stance.
He simply raised his left arm.
The heavy iron sword slammed directly into the dull iron gauntlet.
BANG.
The sound was deafening. Jin felt a massive kinetic shock travel instantly from the blade, through his wrists, and straight into his shoulders. His hands went completely numb. The heavy falchion actually bounced backward off the gauntlet.
The tall boy hadn't moved an inch. His knees didn't bend. His feet didn't slide in the dirt. The dense Aether in his muscles absorbed the massive impact like it was absolutely nothing.
Jin didn't have time to recover his balance.
The tall boy stepped forward. He moved faster than Elin's speed legacy. He closed the distance in a fraction of a second. He pulled his right fist back and punched.
Jin barely managed to pull his sword down horizontally to block his chest.
The iron gauntlet slammed into the flat side of the falchion. The thick iron blade actually bowed inward from the sheer force. The impact launched Jin completely off his feet. He flew backward through the air. He hit the dirt hard, rolling several times before stopping near the edge of the chalk circle.
He groaned loudly. His ribs ached terribly. He forced himself to his feet. His vision blurred for a second.
The tall boy was already standing right in front of him.
Jin swung the heavy sword in a desperate, wide horizontal arc.
The boy ducked under the slow blade effortlessly. He stepped completely inside Jin's guard. He drove a heavy, controlled punch directly into the center of Jin's stomach.
The strike bypassed the leather armor entirely. The kinetic force traveled straight into Jin's internal organs. All the air left Jin's lungs in a violent, wet cough. The pain was absolute, bright, and blinding.
Jin dropped his sword. It hit the dirt with a dull thud.
His legs gave out completely. He fell to his knees. He clutched his stomach with both hands, gasping desperately for oxygen that refused to enter his lungs. He couldn't move. He couldn't fight. The physical reality of the power gap crushed him.
The match was over.
"Winner," the referee declared.