Reyn agreed, and Dris smirked triumphantly.
Davenlak felt a pang of regret: it seemed this young man truly wasn't fated to join the Demon Extermination Squad. But Reyn had accepted the challenge himself, so the supreme captain decided not to interfere, merely saying:
"Pollock, take Reyn to the Squad arsenal. Let him choose any weapon and equipment."
"As you command, Supreme Captain," Pollock replied with poorly concealed disappointment. "Reyn, come with me."
They left the office and headed to the arsenal on the first floor.
As soon as they were out, Pollock reproached discontentedly:
"Reyn, how could you agree to Dris's terms? He's a fourth-level magic swordsman, and you're only first-level! How do you plan to fight him? Win or lose is secondary, but Dris clearly means harm. Aren't you afraid of serious injury?"
"Don't worry, Captain," Reyn replied confidently. "I can't promise victory, but I can stand up for myself."
But Pollock didn't believe him, deeming the youth overly arrogant. Dris outleveled Reyn by a full three levels—a whole rank difference! In superhuman duels, same-rank talents could sometimes challenge higher levels, but defeating someone a full rank above was nearly impossible. Rank gaps were colossal—complete, crushing superiority, leaving no chance.
Moreover, Dris wasn't an average superhuman. Despite his fourth level, he was already a rising star in Longsand. Barely past thirty, Dris advanced rapidly, was the strongest of the five captains, and the top candidate for next supreme captain. Even Pollock wasn't sure he could stand against him.
Pollock thought with annoyance about the youth's impulsiveness: a couple of taunts from Dris, and he bit the hook. Conflicting feelings warred in the captain's heart; he already regretted inviting Reyn. If Reyn got seriously hurt and complained to Master Roger, who then came to the Public Security Bureau with claims, how to explain to superiors? He could only hope Dris, out of respect for Master Roger, wouldn't cross the line. And if possible, Pollock firmly intended to intervene before things went too far.
Reyn, by contrast, seemed utterly composed and asked:
"Who is this Dris? Does the supreme captain value him highly?"
Pollock was momentarily taken aback, then asked in astonishment:
"You don't know Dris?"
"I only learned about him today," Reyn replied honestly.
Pollock's surprise only grew.
"You just met him, so why is he picking on you?" The captain was utterly baffled and ventured doubtfully: "Not because of me, is it? I don't think I've ever feuded with him..."
"How should I know? Maybe I just didn't rub him the right way," Reyn shrugged, not wanting to mention Viola.
Pollock immediately realized the young man was holding something back, but he didn't press further.
"There's the arsenal."
The arsenal of the Demon Extermination Squad was modest—a regular room crammed with assorted weapons and armor. Pollock explained:
"Most squad fighters have their own gear. This is backup, so the quality is usually average. Pick what suits you."
Reyn nodded. If he had his purified iron war hammer with him, he wouldn't have to bother. He scanned the room and saw it was mostly stocked with longswords. There were only a few war hammers, and they looked too light for his needs. Considering Dris's Superhuman class traits, Reyn quickly made his choice.
Approaching the rack, he picked up a large round shield of pure steel. Nearly a meter in diameter and weighing over a hundred pounds sterling, it could cover most of the body. The shield went into his left hand, and for his right, Reyn selected a one-handed war hammer. Its square head topped a haft just half a meter long; this simply constructed weapon weighed a bit over sixty pounds sterling. A tad light, sure, but the best option available.
"Chosen?" Pollock eyed Reyn, who now looked just like an Iron Guard. Who'd have thought a mage stood before him? The captain figured Reyn was scared and just wanted to defend himself, so he suggested: "There's still time. Want to put on some heavy armor? I'll help."
"No need, this'll do." Reyn shook his head no. Ordinary heavy armor would likely be less durable than his "Steel Body," making it nothing but a burden that hampered movement.
They left the arsenal and headed to the training ground in front of the administrative building. A fair crowd had already gathered there—Demon Extermination Squad fighters who'd heard about the duel and come to watch.
Dris stood at the edge of the ground. A longsword hung at his belt. He chatted casually with a few squad mates, looking relaxed and serene—clearly, the upcoming duel didn't faze him one bit. When Reyn appeared, all eyes turned to him, and the crowd froze in amazement. Everyone had heard a battle mage would face Dris. And though few knew much about battle mages, Reyn's appearance clashed wildly with the typical wizard image! To most, a mage was someone in robes, with a mysterious aura, profound knowledge, wielding mighty spells; a symbol of grandeur and wisdom. No one had ever seen a mage with a massive shield in one hand and a hammer in the other!
Someone couldn't hold back and asked:
"Is he really a mage? Maybe it's a mistake?"
"If he put on heavy armor, I'd believe he's a Steel Knight."
"What kind of mage is that!"
Davenlak, spotting Reyn, couldn't help but smirk. Unlike the others, he liked the young man's choice—the kid really did resemble him, the Steel Knight. As a high-rank Superhuman with colossal combat experience and a habit of always wearing heavy armor, Davenlak immediately noticed something unusual about Reyn. That huge shield plus hammer weighed over a hundred and fifty pounds sterling. Even an average-rank Superhuman without great strength would struggle with such gear. Yet Reyn moved with total ease, as if the shield and weapon's weight didn't bother him at all.
"Not like some fresh Superhuman kid," Davenlak noted to himself. He drew a conclusion and eagerly awaited the duel.
He clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention, and boomed:
"Dris, Reyn, you may begin. But remember, this is just a strength test—no need to go for a kill. Know your limits."
Those words were really aimed at Dris—Davenlak hoped he'd show restraint.
"As you command, supreme captain," Dris replied briskly. His face stayed calm, betraying no true intentions.
Reyn just nodded slightly and, without a word, stepped to the center of the training ground, eyes on Dris. Dris moved forward slowly too. He scanned the crowd, closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath, as if savoring the attention. Then he looked at Reyn, his gaze turning icy, and murmured:
"I don't know where you came from, and I don't care what you have with Viola, but as long as I'm in the Demon Extermination Squad, you won't get in."
Reyn's expression didn't change, as if he hadn't heard a thing.
Dris snorted, figuring Reyn was just faking calm. Cruelty flashed in his eyes.
"Rest easy, I won't kill you. But I promise you'll savor every bit of pain."
With that, he whipped out the longsword from its sheath at his belt. It was an enchanted longsword, elegantly adorned, with runes along the edge. As Dris drew it, the blade blazed crimson, radiating heat.
Reyn assumed a defensive stance. He thrust the huge shield forward, covering his torso, crouching slightly so only his head top and feet showed. His right hand, gripping the war hammer, swayed faintly, ready to unleash a crushing blow at any moment. "Soul Eye" was already active, letting Reyn clearly see all of Dris's strengths and weaknesses.
Dris sneered disdainfully, took a few steps to close the gap, and suddenly, with a deafening roar like a firebolt, charged at Reyn sword-first.
Flaming Rush!
It was the most common move for fire magic swordsmen: build max speed at close range, concentrate spiritual power in the blade, and pierce the foe's defense in one strike. Dris's plan was simple: knock the shield from Reyn's hands first, then torment him slowly.
In an instant, a blob of searing heat materialized right before him. Reyn was ready. The moment Dris launched "Flaming Rush," Reyn's soul elements let him read the intent. Instead of retreating, he took a sharp, wide step forward. It closed the distance and caught Dris completely off guard.
Boom!
A thunderclap-like roar shook the air amid clear skies—flames and waves of unbearable heat surged outward. Before the stunned crowd, Dris flew back, landing ten paces away and staggering to stay upright. Reyn stood firm like a mountain rooted to the earth. His shield showed a central dent and black burn marks, but he was unscathed, clothes intact.
Reyn had clearly won the first clash.
Pollock and the Demon Extermination Squad fighters gaped, uncomprehending how such a thing could happen. How had the massive power gap between first and fourth levels vanished? Only Davenlak's eyes gleamed—he seemed to grasp it. The reason lay in Reyn's forward step—perfectly timed, so Dris's "Flaming Rush" didn't reach full power due to insufficient acceleration distance.
An exquisitely skilled defensive move! That seemingly simple clash showed Reyn's honed mastery and his own formidable strength. Still, Davenlak didn't fully get it: even if Reyn was strong, it didn't explain the overwhelming effect. He hadn't noticed that at the moment of impact, Reyn's skin dulled for an instant, his body turned steel-hard, his strength surged, and he rooted himself like a statue. Reyn had maxed out "Steel Body" for that one moment, then deactivated it.
Dris sensed something was off too. He no longer dared underestimate his foe and got serious.
"This pretty boy isn't so simple after all..."
His face darkened. He decided to use his full power—to end it quick. Dris charged at Reyn again, building speed. Ten paces out, he leaped high, his longsword blazing bright, slashing down from above and casting a massive sword shadow that rent the air fiercely.
Leaping Cleave!
The attack's radius was wide. The scorching sword light crashed from overhead. Reyn didn't want to take it head-on but couldn't dodge at that speed. He suddenly dropped the shield and, pouring all his power into his arm, hurled the sixty-pound sterling hammer upward. Empowered by Reyn's might, the hammer whistled through the air and met Dris in an instant. Without hesitation, Dris swung his sword to cleave the hammer—and Reyn—in half.
Clang! Dris felt sharp pain in his sword hand; the skin between thumb and index finger split, blood gushed, and he nearly dropped the blade. The hammer lost nearly half its head and fell. Dris's "Leaping Cleave" power dropped sharply. The fiery-red sword shadow retained less than a third of its force, striking Reyn's shield and leaving only a deep black scorch.
The sword descended as Dris landed just three paces from Reyn. But before he could retreat, Reyn charged forward shield-first like a raging bull. The heavy shield slammed into Dris. He barely recoiled in time but was still launched airborne. Monstrous force pierced him. It felt like a car had hit him—pain wracked his body. Before becoming a magic swordsman, he'd been a ranger with superb balance. In midair, Dris grouped and landed on his feet. He found himself thrown a dozen paces. A sweet taste filled his mouth, blood rising in his throat.
"What power!"
Dris swallowed hard. If he hadn't recoiled to blunt the impact, he'd have taken severe wounds.
"He's only first level—where's this power from?"
"Are battle mages really that strong?"
Not just Dris—everyone thought the same. In just two brief clashes, Reyn had shown strength far beyond his level and bested Dris, who was three levels higher! Amazement or outright disbelief showed in the Demon Extermination Squad fighters' eyes.
Only now did Pollock understand: Reyn wasn't arrogant; he truly had the power to fight Dris. He secretly rejoiced and quietly removed his hand from his spiritual rifle's hilt.
Reyn still held the shield before him. He sidestepped a few paces, picked up the hammer remnant—now under fifty pounds sterling—and gripped it again.
Seeing the foes evenly matched, Davenlak was about to intervene and end the duel. But Dris refused to yield. Before Davenlak could speak, Dris, eyes blazing fire, turned into a flaming silhouette and rushed Reyn. This time, no reckless leap or "Flaming Rush." He just attacked at high speed. His longsword glowed crimson, myriad blade shadows like a fiery whirlwind engulfing Reyn and his shield.
"Fencing style 'Northern Wind.'"
The crowd instantly recognized Dris's favorite style from the northern Imperial school of Maihai fencing, known for rapid serial strikes. Reyn knew it too. Though he didn't practice it, he knew how to counter. Amid countless sword shadows, his gaze stayed calm. He pinpointed Dris's real blade and, stepping deliberately, swung the shield unhurriedly.
Clang!
The crimson glow shattered into sparks on the shield. Reyn stepped back, absorbing the force. Dris seized the moment, lunging with a thrust, but the shield blocked the tip in time.
Clang-clang-clang! Three strikes in a row.
Reyn retreated three more steps, three new black marks on his shield. He couldn't help admiring: Dris's fencing was top-notch. He'd fused "Northern Wind" with "Triple Strike," making attacks faster and stronger—defending was tough.
Dris's three strikes landed. He paused briefly, then attacked again. The blazing sword shadow assaulted fiercely, scattering sparks and heat waves. But each time the blade neared Reyn, the huge shield blocked at the last instant, deflecting it harmlessly and adding another black mark.
Reyn seemed at a disadvantage: pure defense, no counter. Davenlak considered stopping it but, seeing Reyn's shield mastery, got curious and watched. Pollock, watching the fight, held his breath in worry for Reyn. That shield was plain steel, no enchantments, basic material—it wouldn't last. Once destroyed, Reyn had no chance.
Dris knew it too. His sword's fire blazed fiercer; he poured more spiritual power in, aiming to smash the hated round shield. Yet Reyn seemed oblivious to the threat.
The ceaseless metal ring echoed across the training ground. Reyn's shield was scratched and glowing red-hot—about to shatter.
Finally, with a deafening crack, the heavy shield exploded into shards!
"There's my chance!" Dris exulted inwardly.
"There's my chance," Reyn thought.