The Speed of Light
The mages on standby barely had time to clear the frost from the previous match before the air began to hum with a different kind of intensity. The crowd, still buzzing from Lucy's chilling display of dominance, leaned forward in their seats as the final contenders of the opening round were summoned.
"Hailing from the legendary Blue Tribe, known for their indomitable spirit: Enkara Blue!" the announcer bellowed. "And his opponent, representing the Elysium Kingdom: Lance Du'Lac!"
Enkara stepped onto the obsidian stage with a swagger that spoke of years of tribal skirmishes. His skin was decorated with the traditional blue markings of his people, and he carried a heavy, blunt-force club that crackled with latent kinetic energy. A wide, confident grin stretched across his face as he sized up his opponent.
"I hope you're ready to lose, Prince," Enkara said, his voice carrying through the arena. "I hear Elysium soldiers are all talk and no grit."
Lance Du'Lac didn't seem bothered by the taunt. He stood with the poised elegance of a high-born knight, his silver-and-blue light-plate armor gleaming under the magical spotlights. He adjusted his grip on his lancer spear, the weapon's tip glowing with a faint, steady white light. A calm, almost polite smile played on his lips.
"Are you quite sure you can back up those words, Enkara?" Lance asked softly. "Confidence is a brittle shield."
The announcer raised his hand, the tension in the stadium reaching a breaking point. "BEGIN!"
Enkara immediately dropped into a low, offensive stance, his muscles coiling like a spring as he prepared to lung forward and shatter Lance's guard with a single blow. But as he began his first step, the world seemed to freeze. Lance didn't just move; he vanished. His quickness was beyond anything witnessed in the previous matches—a blur of silver and white light that defied the eye's ability to track. Before Enkara could even swing his club, Lance appeared in his blind spot, moving with the fluidity of a striking serpent. Lance dropped low, his center of gravity shifting perfectly as he slammed the flat tip of his lancer spear into Enkara's sternum. The impact was accompanied by a sickening thud of raw physical force. As Enkara's breath left him and he began to buckle toward the floor, Lance didn't let up. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he unleashed a powerful aura blast from the head of his spear.
The explosion of white light caught Enkara mid-fall, sending him flying backward across the obsidian. He didn't even have time to blink before he was propelled over the edge of the ring, crashing into the safety barriers below. It had taken less than three seconds.
The announcer lost it, his voice reaching a fever pitch as he jumped onto his desk.
"It's all over, folks! Incredible! I didn't even see the strike! Enkara has been thrown clean out of the ring before he could even register the attack! Lance Du'Lac advances with a masterclass in Elysian speed!"
The crowd's roar was deafening, a mixture of shock and admiration for the Knight's efficiency. Lance gave a small, respectful nod toward the fallen tribesman before spinning his spear and sheathing it in one smooth motion.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment we've been waiting for!" the announcer cried, frantically checking the bracket. "The final match of Phase One! From the Red Tribe, the fierce Octavius Red! And his opponent, a name many of you recognize from the Academy... Kayn Alabaster! Let the final battle of the first round begin!"
Kayn stepped out of the tunnel, the jagged scar over his eye crinkling as he narrowed his gaze toward the stage. He moved with a quiet, lethal grace, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon, ready to end the first phase of the Harvest Festival.