The referee, a tall man with graying hair and a calm yet authoritative aura, raised his hand. His name was Darius Voss, a former police SWAT commander before the apocalypse. "This duel will proceed, but remember, go too far, and I’ll stop you," he warned in a booming voice.
He activated his skill, [Shield Force], casting a shimmering barrier around the arena to keep the audience safe.
As the translucent dome formed, Cris grinned, unable to hide his excitement. "This is where you’ll fall, Julian!" he shouted, eyes gleaming with murderous glee.
Julian’s expression remained calm, eyes half-lidded. "You talk too much."
Cris’ face twisted in rage. Darius raised his hand. "Begin!"
Cris lunged first, twin daggers flashing like fangs as he launched a flurry of strikes toward Julian. Each slash aimed for vital points, but Julian shifted, deflecting every blow with the graceful arcs of his katana. Steel clashed in a ringing symphony as Cris pressed forward, forcing Julian to backpedal.
Cheers erupted from the crowd as Cris dominated the opening exchange, each dodge and block by Julian looking almost desperate to the untrained eye. Cris smirked, flicking his wrist to send feints and rapid cuts. "What’s wrong? All you can do is defend?" he taunted.
Julian stayed silent, eyes cold, his katana a blur of precise parries.
In the stands, Brandon leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "It’s over, Cris has him cornered," he whispered, lips curling into a grin.
Randoff’s brows knitted with worry. "If Julian loses, Emma will never accept it..." He glanced at his daughter, but was shocked to see Emma watching Julian intently, a serene faith in her eyes.
Nearby, Albert turned to Randoff, voice hushed but urgent. "That girl. Aya, where is she?"
Randoff pointed her out. "There. The one with the bow."
Albert’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Incredible... a woman who inherited the same skill as me [Weapon Maker]..."
Back in the arena, Cris’ attacks grew more aggressive, slashes turning brutal, his daggers mere blurs. But Julian’s katana began to move differently, flowing, subtle, almost dancing. His blade started countering each attack perfectly, shifting from defense to overwhelming control.
Steel rang out sharply as Julian deflected one of Cris’ furious slashes, twisted, and disarmed him with a fluid flick, Cris’ dagger clattered across the ground. In the same motion, Julian’s katana appeared at Cris’ throat, its black edge glinting ominously.
"It’s over," Julian said flatly.
Gasps swept the crowd. Cris froze, eyes wide with disbelief, sweat dripping down his face. But before Darius could declare the winner, Cris screamed in rage. Purple fluid began oozing from his skin, his ultimate skill. "I won’t lose! Not to you!" he roared.
Toxic mist hissed out around him as his muscles bulged, veins turning dark, and his eyes glowed. He lunged, claws of poison trailing behind him. Julian’s eyes narrowed as he activated his Shadow Step, slipping through shadows to dodge each deadly strike.
The two clashed with terrifying speed, poison splashing as Cris swept his claws, shadow tendrils whipping around Julian as he weaved between attacks. The crowd watched in awe as their battle blurred into a dance of death, parries, dodges, and vicious counters.
Cris’ fury peaked as Julian sliced open his left arm with a sudden, precise slash. "I’ll kill you!" he shrieked, ignoring the pain as his poison swirled like liquid serpents, striking with frightening accuracy.
Julian blocked and dodged, eyes locked on Cris. "Your poison’s useless if it doesn’t hit," he said coldly.
"Shut up!" Cris screamed, rage consuming him as he unleashed his ultimate form, a cloud of searing crimson mist enveloped him, his speed and reflexes skyrocketing as he charged recklessly.
But Julian’s gaze darkened. Shadows coiled up his katana as he sidestepped Cris’ final lunge and, with a single devastating arc, he slashed across Cris’ chest, blood sprayed as Cris staggered, eyes wide, his body crashing to the ground.
The arena fell silent.
Julian lowered his katana, shadows dissipating as he stood over Cris’ trembling form.
Darius raised his hand, his deep voice echoing across the hushed arena, "The winner is Julian Deaw!"
The crowd erupted into cheers, the Shield Force barrier fading into shimmering motes of light. Medics rushed in immediately, checking on Cris’ limp form. One of them turned to Julian and asked, "Sir, are you hurt anywhere?"
Julian shook his head calmly. "No, I’m fine." His eyes shifted to Cris, he felt the perfect moment to seize his prize. He had already instilled terror and dominance in Cris during the fight, extracting his skill now would be easy.
But before he could step forward, a sudden flash of movement interrupted the air, a ragged figure appeared as if he had teleported. The man’s clothes were shredded, soaked in blood, his left arm twisted unnaturally. He staggered forward, eyes wild with panic. "Where’s Mr. Gabriel?!"
Gabriel and the others froze, alarm flashing in their eyes. "What happened?!" Gabriel demanded urgently.
The wounded man gasped for breath, blood dripping from his chin. "A group of mutated zombies... they attacked us. My teammates... they’re dead... the others were captured..."
Randoff stepped in quickly. "Save your strength. Medics! Get him treated and take him to the infirmary, now!"
The medics lifted the man onto a stretcher, hurrying him away as his eyes rolled back in shock. Gabriel turned to the crowd. "Everyone, please disperse immediately! Return to your quarters."
A cry broke out from the gatherin, an old man clutching a child’s doll. "Please... what about my grandson? He was outside the walls... is he safe?"
Gabriel looked him straight in the eyes. "I swear, we’ll do everything we can to bring them back safely."
Meanwhile, Julian stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tense air, "Wait. What about our bet?" His tone was low and firm.
A heavy silence fell. Brandon’s face twisted with frustration, Cris’ loss had cost him dearly. Gabriel, regaining his composure, nodded solemnly. "Of course. A promise is a promise. You’ll receive what was agreed upon."
Julian’s eyes glinted with satisfaction. Though he couldn’t claim Cris’ skill immediately, medics were already carrying him away, he knew he’d have another chance soon enough.
Julian’s team gathered around him, relief and admiration in their eyes. Clarissa was the first to speak. "You did great, Julian. We were worried you’d lose control."
Veronica smirked. "Honestly, I thought you were going to rip his skill right out in front of everyone."
Emma stepped closer, her voice softer. "Thank you... for holding back."
Julian only nodded, his mind already shifting focus. His team then began discussing the man who had appeared out of nowhere.
Before they could say more, Gabriel approached, his dignified air returning despite the chaos. "Julian, I apologize for interrupting your rest. But with what’s happened, I must ask you to join an emergency meeting."
Julian met his steady gaze. Gabriel’s request was polite yet carried the weight of necessity. Julian’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. So that man really might have a teleport skill... he mused. "No problem," Julian replied coolly.