The atmosphere in the arena shifted. The excitement that had gradually built over the last eleven matches suddenly gave way to doubt, confusion—and curiosity.
"Match Twelve—Stage One! Token 6, Logan Smith, versus Token 11, Varn Drayden!"
The crowd stirred.
A twelve-year-old boy?
Some in the gallery leaned forward. Others scoffed. Then came the murmurs from the viewing box and balcony.
"That's Logan Smith?"
"Is this a joke? That's a child, not a fighter."
"But isn't Lilith Starwind also the same age?"
"You dimwit. How can you compare any passerby to Lilith Starwind? Who is she? The cream of the crop. Even legends would say she is a legend. Only twelve and already Tier Two. Four elemental affinities. She'll most likely be the champion of this tournament."
From the noble balcony, Rovan Yale's father, Marquess Yale, raised a brow. "Another Smith brat? Is the House that desperate?"
Zephyr's father, Lord Albrecht, didn't speak—but his eyes narrowed slightly as Logan stepped forward.
But in contrast, Lilith Starwind leaned forward with a faint spark in her light blue eyes. He's different, she thought. There's something about the way he moves—quiet, balanced. When I first saw him during the opening ceremony, I felt it. This fight might actually be interesting. She smirked slightly.
She might've been just a girl, but it was the clash of battle and the mystery of the unknown that stirred her blood—not calm or certainty.
Logan walked up to the arena stage with calm steps, hands swinging naturally by his sides, expression neutral. But an excitement—unseen by others—flickered in his eyes.
Varn Drayden—taller, muscular, and already famed in his region—stood confidently at the opposite end.
Cheers erupted for Varn.
"Roast that kid!"
"He should just run home!"
A few even laughed aloud. "He's twelve! Why's he even here?"
"Someone check that kid's diapers for me," one man shouted—and laughter followed.
In the gallery, Alice stood from her seat, visibly tense. Her hands clenched.
Rudeous glanced at her, then offered a calm smile. "You shouldn't worry about Logan."
She turned, eyes wide. "You think he can win?"
Rudeous looked back toward the arena. "I'm saying… it's that other boy I'd worry for. You know what he is capable of."
The referee stepped forward. "Both fighters ready?"
Varn gave a confident nod.
Logan replied politely, "Ready."
Three!
Two!
One!
"Begin!"
Varn didn't waste time.
He surged forward, wind bursting at his feet, closing the distance in seconds. His first punch—coated in swirling flames—crashed toward Logan's head.
Logan moved.
Not far. Not wide. Just enough.
The punch missed by inches.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"He dodged that!"
"Lucky for him! He didn't lose with the first hit."
Then came Varn's second strike—this time a sweeping kick, as earth-forged plates wrapped his legs, adding weight and power to the blow.
Swoosh!
His attack hit nothing but air again as Logan shifted—not hurried, not panicked. He moved like wind slipping between fingers.
But to the crowd, it looked like luck.
"He dodged again?!"
"No way! That kid's sure lucky."
"But luck won't save him for long. He's gonna get hit any second now."
Lilith narrowed her eyes. Her instincts twitched.
Was that really just luck?
In the nobles' viewing box, Prince Rowan leaned forward for the first time in a while. His gaze sharpened.
Precise. Deliberate. Measured.
He's not lucky… he's in control.
From the balcony above, Lilith's mother, Emily Starwind, observed silently. So did Noah—her husband and a famed adventurer.
Both had hunted monsters. Both had survived dungeons. Both had seen life-and-death combat.
And both could tell—Logan wasn't struggling.
He was enjoying it.
Down in the arena, Logan's eyes calmly followed Varn's movements. Internally, his thoughts flickered.
I shouldn't reveal my full strength. Not yet. If I use my physical power, people will notice and be concerned. And I can't afford that.
He adjusted his stance slightly.
Just lightning and air. That should be enough.
Varn, growing more confident, launched into a flurry of attacks—wind-enhanced strikes, explosive flame blasts. He was sure he had everything under control.
Logan continued dodging—always just a breath ahead.
To most, it looked like desperation.
To a few, it was mastery.
"He can't even fight back. Just jumping around like a monkey," someone laughed.
"Poor thing's just dancing around."
But one noble muttered, "Why hasn't he been hit yet…?"
The betting corner was still roaring.
"All on Varn!"
"Logan won't last another minute!"
"Triple affinity versus a twelve-year-old? This is robbery!"
Not a single bet was placed on Logan.
The betting corner's owner looked troubled. He was going to lose a huge sum. Because even he was sure Logan would lose.
In the arena, Varn grew bolder. His strikes came harder, faster.
"You're pathetic!" Varn shouted mid-combo. "Dodge all you want. You're still going down!"
Then it came—Varn leapt back and began forming a larger spell. A swirling vortex of wind and fire gathered around his fists. He slammed his palms to the ground. Earth magic exploded forward in jagged pillars toward Logan.
Logan dodged the first. Then the second.
But the third—
He couldn't move.
Damn. I got too cocky, Logan cursed inwardly.
Boom!
He was hit by both attacks.
Dust exploded into the air.
A deafening crash echoed across the stage. The shockwave hit the first rows of the gallery. Dust and broken stone clouded the arena.
"HE GOT HIM!"
"That's it!"
"Did you see that? He used dual attacks fluently! Even prodigies like Morgan or Lilith would have a hard time against that!"
"And that kid's just a cannon fodder. No way he would survive that!"
Mirena gasped and breathed in relief. Darius also let out a breath, then smiled faintly.
But Alice stood up abruptly. So did Rudeous.
Ardyn had a serious look on his face. "How is that possible?"
"Logan!"
Alice nearly stepped forward, panic flooding her face.
Rudeous caught her wrist. "Wait."
In the fighting stage, dust lingered.
The referee stepped toward the center. After checking the situation, he raised his hand to announce the winner.
People who had bet money were already asking for their winnings.
"The winner is Var—"
TO BE CONTINUED…