"OUTWARD SLASH!"
A wave of blue energy sliced through the air in a straight and vertical motion, rushing towards Socrates at a speed that defied the law of physics, leaving behind a faint humming vibration that made the air tremble.
But Socrates isn't any pushover, as he could see the attack as clear as day and clearly dodged it, his body tilting sharply to the side while the attack continued its momentum, destroying the ropes behind him and tearing through the wooden poles as if they were paper.
Merkules didn't just stand after the attack but rushed forward in one swift motion with his sword raised up, his boots grinding against the rough arena ground.
Socrates reacted instantly as Merkules' sword came down to his head; he bent backward with great force, his spine arching unnaturally low as the sword passed over his head, slicing through strands of air with a sharp whistle.
Merkules didn't hesitate in twisting his grip as he initiated a downward cleave towards Socrates' stomach, but the cloaked figure already retreated, dodging the attack that should have torn his stomach by mere inches, the blade narrowly missing his clothes.
The two stared at each other for a microsecond before Merkules stepped in, thrusting hard with his sword as he aimed for Socrates' nose, but the cloaked figure took to the air, leaping with great force before landing behind Merkules, who turned instantly with a slash, but Socrates blocked it with both his arms crossed.
The force of the slash sent him moving backward, leaving a slight cut on his arms, thin lines of blood appearing along his skin.
'What the heck? How can my sword only injure him a little?' Merkules squinted his eyes, suspicion forming beneath his calm expression.
"Your sword is able to graze my skin. It's such a quality weapon."
"It's a Grade 2 Blue Sword with elemental attributes.. You're a tough opponent.. I'll show you the beauty of the sword." Merkules wore back a confident grin as he pointed the sword upward, grabbing the hilt with one hand and using two fingers out of the other hand to rub the blade from the bottom to the tip as blue energy enveloped the blade, soaring through the sky like rising mist.
"Everybody shift. The Sky Pavilion champion is about to unleash a devastating attack.." Someone announced in the crowd as the crowd dispersed without hesitation, bodies scattering backward in alarm, but Socrates stood calmly, unmoving like a statue rooted to the earth.
"Receive this..." Merkules' eyes didn't leave Socrates as his hand trailed down from the tip of the sword back to the bottom before turning it and stabbing it into the ground.
Swirling energy burst out of the ground as it spread out without hesitation, cracking the surface beneath them.
Blue frost snaked around the ground like vines intertwined, spreading across the dusty arena floor as it covered everything within a 100-meter radius, freezing soil, rope, and debris alike.
Socrates jumped back, retreating, but the frost traveled faster than him, freezing his legs before he could even move, locking his feet firmly into place.
Merkules smiled, seeing that Socrates had been trapped.
"Second effect — Knights of Icicles."
He cried out as out of the blue frost, icicles started sprouting out—large, sharp cones of ice with jagged edges—as they traveled towards Socrates' direction like deadly spears.
Calmly, Socrates pulled out two axes from his inventory as he grabbed their handles tightly, the metal glinting under the pale blue frost-light.
Immediately an icicle sprouted out from beneath him; he cut it down instantly, the sharp edge of the axe slicing through the frost with ease, shards scattering around his feet.
Another icicle sprouted out directly from beneath him, but before it could even grow fully, the mouth of the axe was already cleaving it down.
It was as if the axe was moving in hyper speed as Socrates brandished it calmly, cutting down all the knights of icicles around him, his movements steady and terrifyingly precise.
'Damn.. he has his own weapon but he's still trapped.. I still have the upper hand.' Merkules calmly analyzed amidst the situation as he gathered energy into the sword again, frost mist swirling around his body.
"3rd effect — Blades of frost ×10.." He brandished his sword as 10 projectiles of blade stormed out of it, tearing through the atmosphere as they headed towards Socrates, who was still trapped in the blue frost.
Merkules also didn't wait. Instead, he tore forward, rushing in as if his life depended on it, following after the ice projectiles with deadly intent.
Socrates just stood there, crossing the two axes over his face as he blocked only his head from getting contact with the projectiles.
The rest hit his body; some bypassed him, but even the ones that struck his body were not able to draw blood or penetrate into his flesh, instead breaking apart into fragments of frozen dust.
Merkules got in range as he immediately brandished his sword, unleashing a flurry of energy wave attacks towards Socrates, who blocked the energy waves by brandishing his axes crazily, sparks and frost exploding with every collision.
This gave Merkules ample time to get behind Socrates, and with a wave of his sword, his energy tore out, slicing through Socrates' back and tearing through the cloak fabric.
At that same time, the cloaked figure was able to get out of the trap as he rushed forward and then turned to his opponents, just to realize that his cloak had been torn, revealing his face to everyone present.
"Who's this?"
"This is not the Earth Pavillion Champion."
"I thought Brother Merkules was spitting rubbish when he said it at first, it turn out to be truth afterall."
"Who's this red head?"
"Did Nicollo dyed his head red?"
"Even if Nicollo dye his head red? Did he also do plastic surgery to his face?"
"Thats nothing like the Earth Pavilion Champion?"
"Then who is he?"
"Silver top.. Black pants... Red hair, black boots.. I recall." Everyone turned to the disciple's direction immediately, curiosity spreading across the crowd like wildfire.
"He's the Senior that we recently saw with Brother Merxile."
All eyes then turned to Merxile, who bit his tongue after his name had been called as all eyes locked onto him with sharp suspicion.
"I thought he's a senior from the Heaven Pavilion. Who's he?" One of the disciples demanded, his voice loud and impatient.
"He..." Merxile took a deep breath, his chest rising slowly as beads of sweat formed along his forehead.
"He's the former champion of the Earth Pavilion.. The one who Merkules defeated in this arena 9 months ago." Merxile revealed, and there were gasps amidst the disciples, shock rippling across their faces.
"I said it.. That axe seems somewhat familiar.."
"They said he was dead.. How's he alive?"
"I've not seen him for the past six months?"
"You said six months.. I've not heard of him for the past nine months.."
"Why is Merxile following him?"
"Why are we not seeing Nicollo?"
"Don't tell me it's what I'm thinking.."
"I heard it's Nicollo that silenced the boy to claim the championship.."
"Has the reverse been the case..."
"The boy could stand his ground against Merkules.. He's no more the red haired teenager we know.."
"Brother Merkules took something from him.. Is that why he issued the challenge?"
"To take back the golden token.."
"This is going to be an epic fight... I thank the gods I'm alive to witness it."
"The fight between Merkules the Sky pavilion champion and Socrates Trueblood, the former champion... Begins..."
The murmurs in the crowd rose like the roar of a restless sea, voices overlapping as tension thickened in the air. Dust swirled faintly across the arena floor as the two fighters stood facing each other once again, neither willing to retreat.
Merkules' expression shifted from casual confidence to focused seriousness as he stared directly into Socrates' revealed face. The faint frost still lingered along the arena floor, cracking softly beneath their feet.
Socrates stood tall, his red hair slightly disheveled from the earlier clash, strands falling across his glowing blue eyes. The torn cloak hung loosely from his shoulders, exposing his hardened physique—broad shoulders, tightened muscles, and faint scars marking years of brutal training.
The wound across his back, though visible through the torn fabric, showed no sign of slowing him down. Instead, his breathing remained steady, controlled, almost unnaturally calm.
Merkules tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword, the blue blade humming softly with energy as cold vapor drifted from its surface.
"So... you're still alive after all this time." Merkules spoke slowly, his voice carrying clearly across the silent arena.
Socrates didn't answer immediately. He only stared, his gaze unwavering, his expression cold and distant like hardened steel.
The air between them grew heavier, charged with hostility and unfinished history.
Around them, the crowd fell quieter, their earlier excitement now replaced by tense anticipation. Even the Sky Pavilion disciples, who once laughed, now watched with narrowed eyes.
This was no longer just a duel.
It was a reckoning.
And both fighters knew it.