Aren looked at his opponent as he walked out to face him.

The man looked… ordinary.

Average build. Short black hair. No armor. No visible weapon. Just simple clothes. That alone was strange enough to make Aren cautious.

They stood a few meters apart, staring at each other in silence before the man finally spoke.

"My name is Gerald," he said calmly. "I saw what you did earlier. Against the other guy. You're strong, stronger than most here. Even without going all out."

Aren let out a small smile.

"So?" he asked. "You planning to forfeit?"

Gerald shook his head. "No. I'd rather lose than walk away. If the trials taught me anything, it's that you keep fighting until you can't anymore."

He took a step back and raised his hands into a kickboxing stance.

Aren narrowed his eyes slightly.

Gerald still hadn't summoned a weapon. No armor either.

Interesting.

Aren mirrored him, stepping back and settling into a loose boxing stance, shoulders relaxed but ready.

Then Gerald stomped his foot into the ground.

Instantly, a dark, metallic liquid spilled out from beneath his foot.

It flowed unnaturally, climbing up his legs, wrapping around his torso, arms, and shoulders like living steel. In seconds, it solidified into a sleek black metallic armor that hugged his body perfectly.

But it didn't stop there.

From his back, two massive metallic wings formed, angelic in shape, sharp and mechanical. Then more arms emerged behind him, forged from the same black metal, each one gripping a sword.

A helmet sealed over his face, smooth and angular, with two narrow slits glowing red.

The air around him shifted.

The moment Aren saw it, realization hit him.

"…A Creation class," Aren muttered.

This was his first time facing one.

Creation classes weren't casters. Not exactly. They didn't rely on predefined spells. They shaped reality using will alone, forcing things into existence that shouldn't exist.

Dangerous. Very dangerous.

Gerald spread his wings.

With a single flap, he vanished.

He reappeared instantly in front of Aren, the distance erased like it had never existed. Two blades thrust forward at the same time, aimed straight for Aren's chest.

Aren reacted instantly.

His right arm hardened as the wolf guard formed.

Clang!

Sparks exploded outward as both sword tips struck the guard but failed to pierce it. Aren pushed upward, deflecting the blades, and stepped in.

"Let's see how you hold up," Aren said with a grin.

His fist shot forward like a cannon.

Gerald tried to block using his arms, but Aren was faster.

BAM!

The punch slammed into Gerald's chest.

A shockwave erupted outward, rattling the ground beneath them as Gerald was sent flying back. He crashed into the floor, rolled, then skidded to a stop on one knee.

Dust rose around him.

Gerald lifted his head, staring at Aren, eyes glowing behind the helmet.

Aren stretched out his hand and curled his fingers once.

A clear, unmistakable gesture.

Come on.

Gerald got back on his feet and slipped into his stance once more.

In the next instant, his wings flapped.

With a sharp burst of force, he shot straight into the air, then dove down like a missile, body spinning violently. His extra arms stretched forward, swords extended, as he began rotating faster and faster, turning himself into a massive metallic vortex aimed directly at Aren.

The air screamed.

Aren looked up at the attack descending from above.

He planted one leg firmly behind him, lowering his center of gravity, his stance solid and unmoving. Then he threw a single punch upward.

BOOM.

His fist met the tip of the spinning vortex.

Sparks exploded outward instantly. Shockwaves tore through the hall, slamming into nearby pillars and cracking them as if they were brittle stone. The sound was deafening, like a massive engine grinding itself apart.

Yet Aren didn't move an inch.

Instead, Gerald was blasted backward.

He crashed into the ground hard and skidded across the floor, sparks trailing behind him as he slid to a stop. The tips of both his swords were scorched flat, completely burned away.

Gerald stared at them in disbelief.

Then, right before everyone's eyes, the blades reshaped themselves. Metal flowed and sharpened, reforming perfect tips once more.

But that wasn't the real issue.

The real issue was that, even after an attack like that, he still hadn't been able to get close to Aren.

Aren stood there, staring down at him calmly.

If Gerald had known the truth, it would've crushed him even more.

Aren wasn't even using his main strength.

Right now, he was relying purely on physical power, when his true specialty was summoning.

Gerald launched again.

His wings beat hard as he shot into the air, but this time, he didn't dive. Instead, the metallic feathers of his wings detached and fired forward.

They rained down like bullets from a machine gun, each one screaming through the air straight toward Aren.

Aren kicked off the ground and retreated instantly.

His movements were clean, sharp, faster than the rain of metal itself. Feathers slammed into the ground behind him, exploding on impact as he dodged every single one with ease.

He landed smoothly, sliding a few meters back before coming to a stop.

He looked up.

Gerald was already there.

Swords slashing down at full speed right at Aren's head.

Aren raised one arm.

Blocked.

Then, in the same motion, he stepped in and drove a punch straight into Gerald's face.

BAM!

The impact released a shockwave so strong it cracked nearby pillars clean down the middle. Gerald was sent flying once more, his body smashing into the ground and skidding across the floor before finally coming to a stop.

"Your creation ability is pretty unique," Aren stated calmly, "but I think it's time we wrap this up."

Gerald groaned and planted his feet, preparing to attack again.

But shadow tendrils burst out of the ground.

They latched onto his wings, legs, arms, and torso like hooks.

Gerald felt the pull instantly and roared, struggling with everything he had, muscles straining as he tried to rip himself free. But more tendrils erupted from the ground, wrapping around him, dragging him down harder and harder.

"Arrgh!" he growled, fighting back desperately.

His swords flashed as he slashed at the tendrils, cutting several apart, but for every one he destroyed, two more emerged and wrapped around him again.

Everyone watching fell silent.

This wasn't a fight anymore.

It was domination.

A complete, overwhelming display of control.

And yet, Aren wasn't enjoying it. He didn't want to humiliate Gerald. He just wanted this to end quickly. He wanted the tournament finished, wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. Staying under Elton wasn't safe.

Gerald was still struggling, but more tendrils wrapped around him until he was completely immobilized. Every limb was pinned. He couldn't even twitch.

Aren walked over and stopped in front of him.

"Do you give up?" he asked.

Gerald lifted his head.

His helmet melted away, revealing his face. Defiance still burned in his eyes, but beneath it was acceptance. He knew. He had known for a while now.

He let out a long, pained breath.

"…Fine," Gerald said. "I give up."

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