*BOOOOM!*
Before the fifteen weapons could even touch Alen's hair, a massive, towering pillar of pure golden energy erupted from his body.
The sheer force of the blast hit the fifteen elite mercenaries like a solid wall of moving iron. Their weapons shattered instantly upon touching the golden light. They were blown out of the air, screaming as they flew dozens of feet backward.
The thick earth vines trapping Alen's legs disintegrated into fine dust.
The entire stadium went completely silent. The chaotic brawl happening in the rest of the arena stopped instantly. Every single fighter froze in place, turning their heads to look at the blinding golden light.
Up in the VIP deck, the high nobles dropped their wine glasses.
Princess Amyra leaned forward, her golden eyes widening in absolute shock.
Emperor Valerius stood up from his crystal throne. His usual calm, arrogant expression completely vanished. He gripped the railing so hard the crystal actually cracked under his fingers.
"That aura..." the Emperor whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
"That is impossible. That is the Aura of the First Emperor."
Down in the dirt, the golden pillar of energy slowly faded away.
Alen stood in the center of the crater he had just created. He still hadn't drawn his iron sword. But he looked completely different.
His pitch-black hair was floating slightly in the air, pushed up by the sheer density of the power rolling off his body. His bright golden eyes were practically glowing in the shadows.
A faint, massive phantom of a roaring golden dragon hovered in the air right behind him.
[Good!]
Ancestor Valerian roared, his voice filled with overwhelming pride.
[Show them the power of the Celestia bloodline! Clear the field!]
Alen looked around.
There were still over three hundred fighters standing in the ring. They were terrified of his aura, but they were too stubborn to jump out of bounds.
'I will do it in one strike,' Alen thought.
'I won't kill them. But I will end this match right now.'
Alen pulled his right fist back.
He didn't pull elements from the air like Rias did. He didn't need to. His body itself was a living weapon. He channeled the raw, ancient power of the dragon phantom directly into his arm.
His fist began to glow like a miniature sun. The air around him distorted and rippled from the intense heat and pressure.
"What is he doing?!" a noble heir screamed, dropping his sword and turning to run.
"Get out of the ring!" another fighter yelled in pure panic.
They realized too late.
Alen stepped forward. He didn't aim at any specific person. He aimed directly at the ground in the exact center of the arena.
[Celestial Dragon Arts: Earth Shattering Strike!]
Alen punched the dirt.
*KRRAAACK!*
The sound was louder than a lightning strike.
The moment his glowing fist touched the ground, the entire stadium violently shook. A massive, roaring shockwave of golden energy erupted outward in a perfect circle.
The shockwave ripped through the dirt, tearing up the ground and sending a massive wave of debris flying outward. It hit the remaining three hundred fighters with the force of a hurricane.
There was no time to block. There was no time to cast a shield.
Fighters were lifted off their feet like dry leaves caught in a storm. Heavily armored knights, fast assassins, and elite mages were all blown completely out of the white chalk ring. They crashed into the outer walls of the arena, tumbling over each other in a massive, groaning pile.
The golden shockwave expanded until it hit the very edges of the arena walls, rattling the magical barriers protecting the spectators.
Then, it completely vanished.
The dust slowly settled over the stadium.
Alen slowly stood up, brushing a little bit of dirt off his leather pants. The golden dragon phantom behind him faded away. His glowing eyes returned to normal.
He looked around the arena.
The massive white chalk ring was completely empty. The ground was cracked and ruined.
Almost four hundred and fifty fighters were lying outside the boundaries, groaning in pain or completely unconscious. None of them were dead. Alen had perfectly controlled the shockwave to only push them away, not crush their internal organs.
Only a handful of fighters remained inside the ring. They were the ones who had been standing at the very edges of the arena, barely surviving the edge of the shockwave.
They were all sitting on the ground, staring at Alen with wide, terrified eyes. They didn't even dare to breathe.
There were exactly fifty people left in the ring.
The head referee stood on his elevated stone podium. He was completely speechless. His jaw hung open as he stared at the ruined arena.
He looked down at a magical stopwatch in his hand.
The match had started exactly fifteen seconds ago.
"I..." the referee stammered into his magical amplifier. He cleared his throat loudly.
"I declare this match over! Fifty fighters remain! Batch B is concluded!"
The massive stadium was completely dead silent.
A million people were trying to process what they had just witnessed.
In the first match, Rias had put on a terrifying display of skill and speed. He fought an army and dismantled them piece by piece.
But this was completely different.
The illegitimate Third Prince, the boy everyone had mocked and ignored his entire life, hadn't just fought an army. He had wiped them out with a single, overwhelming punch. He had ended a massive battle royale in fifteen seconds.
It was pure, absolutely broken power.
Up in the VIP deck, Lukas Draven gripped the railing, a massive, excited grin spreading across his face.
"Did you see that?! He is a monster! I want to fight him right now!"
Nia stared at the boy in the ring. Her blank expression finally broke. A tiny sliver of genuine shock appeared in her violet eyes.
Suddenly, a single person in the lower stands stood up and started clapping.
Then, ten people joined in. Then a hundred.
Within seconds, the entire stadium erupted.
The cheers were deafening. It was a roar of absolute excitement and awe. The Velmer Empire worshipped strength above all else, and they had just witnessed the birth of a true monster.
They screamed his name, stamping their feet so hard the stadium shook again.
Down in the center of the ruined dirt ring, Alen heard the massive crowd cheering for him.
Instead of looking proud or arrogant, Alen just rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He gave the screaming crowd a small, nervous wave.
'I really hope I didn't break the arena too badly,' Alen thought, letting out a heavy sigh.
'The arena crew is going to be so mad at me.'
[You did well, boy,]
Ancestor Valerian chuckled deeply in his mind.
[That was a decent warm-up. Now, prepare yourself. The real fights are just beginning.]