Instead, his figure flickered briefly at the edge of Mike's vision—then vanished again.

Suddenly—

A dagger shot out from the shadows, flying low toward Mike's leg.

Clang!

One of the spinning golden blades intercepted it midair, shattering the weapon into fragments of metal.

"Found you," Mike said calmly.

The golden blades abruptly expanded outward, spreading like a blooming halo.

Kael's eyes widened as his stealth was disrupted, his form forced into visibility mid-motion.

"…Damn," he muttered.

Before he could retreat, the blades snapped inward.

Kael twisted desperately, barely avoiding fatal damage—but several cuts opened across his arms and shoulder, blood spraying as he landed hard on the arena floor.

He rolled to his feet, breathing heavily, blades raised defensively.

"So that's your answer to speed," Kael said with a sharp grin despite the pain. "Turn the whole field into a kill zone."

Mike lifted his hand slightly, golden mana condensing once more.

"You're fast," he admitted. "But stealth doesn't mean much once I control the space."

The referee watched closely, ready to intervene at any time before either of them get fatally injured.

Kael's grin widened, eyes sharp despite the blood trickling down his arm.

"Heh… control the space, huh?" he said, rolling his shoulders. "Then I'll just have to take it from you."

His body blurred.

Not vanished this time—split.

Three Kaels rushed in from different angles at once, each movement perfectly synchronized. Footsteps echoed from all directions, deliberately messy, deliberately confusing.

"Afterimages?" someone in the crowd gasped.

"No," the commentator corrected. "High-speed feints combined with spatial footwork—he's forcing misreads!"

Mike didn't move.

The golden blades tightened their orbit, spinning faster, humming like a storm of razors.

The first Kael lunged—

Fake.

The second slid low—

Also fake.

The third came from above, twisting midair, daggers aimed straight for Mike's throat.

There.

Mike's fingers snapped together.

The golden blades collapsed inward, not toward Kael—but toward the space Kael was about to occupy.

"—?!"

Kael's eyes went wide as his instincts screamed danger. He twisted midair, abandoning the strike, barely escaping as a blade grazed his side and ripped through his jacket.

He landed, skidding back, boots carving lines into the arena floor.

"Damn it… you're reading me," Kael muttered.

Mike finally stepped forward.

"Not reading," he corrected calmly. "Predicting."

Golden mana flowed down his arm, reshaping into a long, narrow blade—sleeker, denser, sharper than before.

Kael exhaled slowly, stance lowering.

"Then let's see if you can keep up… when I stop holding back."

His pupils narrowed.

The air warped.

Kael vanished—not into stealth, but into pure speed.

In the next heartbeat, he was behind Mike.

Clang!

Mike pivoted instantly, golden sword meeting Kael's daggers in a shower of sparks.

Clang—clang—clang!

Steel and gold collided repeatedly in rapid succession, each strike precise, lethal, and perfectly timed. Kael pressed relentlessly, exploiting micro-openings, while Mike countered with flawless structure and control.

The arena shook under the intensity.

"Unbelievable!" the commentator shouted.

"A rogue pushing an S-rank head-on—and holding his ground!"

Kael's breathing grew heavier.

Mike's didn't.

A golden blade detached from the orbit—silent, invisible in the chaos.

Kael felt it a fraction of a second too late.

Behind—!

He twisted, but not fast enough.

The blade stopped one inch from his neck.

"Yield," Mike said quietly.

Kael froze.

Sweat rolled down his temple. His daggers lowered slowly.

"…Tch. Guess that's checkmate."

The golden blade dissolved into light.

"I yield," Kael said clearly.

The referee raised his hand immediately.

"Match over! Winner—Mike Vester!"

Cheers exploded through the arena.

Kael stepped back, rubbing his neck with a crooked smile.

"Yeah… controlling space against an assassin," he said, shaking his head. "That's just unfair."

Mike inclined his head slightly.

"Good fight."

Above them, the ranking crystal updated once more.

Mike Vester — 2 Victories.

"Will you continue?" the examiner asked as Mike nodded.

"I yield," Elina said.

The examiner raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Giving up without even trying?"

Elina shook her head calmly. "Mike and I have trained together and fought many times. I know I can't defeat him yet."

The examiner nodded slowly. "Very well. Another victory to Mike Vester."

He turned toward the last remaining finalist. "Now, will you fight him?"

Seris glanced at Mike and gave a small, determined nod.

"Very well," the examiner announced, voice echoing across the arena. "Next fight: Mike Vester versus Seris Valen!"

Cheers erupted from the stands as Mike and Seris stepped into the arena.

Mike had already seen Seris fight earlier—her style was mechanical, precise, and deadly. She summoned golems and constructs that acted like robotic soldiers, using them to control the battlefield with coordinated attacks.

The referee raised his hand. "Begin!"

Instantly, five massive golem constructs rose from the arena floor, their armored forms gleaming under the sunlight. Each moved with perfect synchronization, their mechanical joints whirring as they advanced toward Mike.

"Her Golem Knights…" the commentator shouted, excitement rising in his voice. "She's using her full arsenal at once!"

Mike's eyes narrowed as he sized up the approaching golems. Each construct was heavily armored, their movements precise and coordinated—a perfect example of Seris' tactical genius.

He didn't panic. Slowly, he raised his hands, golden mana coalescing around his body.

"Let's make this quick," Mike muttered.

The first wave of golems slammed into his golden barriers. Blades of condensed light appeared around him, spinning and forming a dome-like shield that absorbed the impact without a scratch.

The arena shook from the collisions, metal screeching against magic.

Seris' eyes narrowed as she manipulated her constructs, commanding them to attack from multiple angles. One golem swung its heavy hammer in a downward arc, another fired a pulse of magical energy, while the others attempted to flank Mike.

He smiled faintly, golden energy condensing into multiple swords and spears around him.

"They never learn," he whispered. With a thought, the weapons launched in perfect synchronization, slicing through the incoming golems with surgical precision. Sparks and fragments of metal flew in all directions as the golden blades struck true.

Seris' constructs staggered but didn't fall entirely. She immediately summoned reinforcements, this time creating smaller, faster automatons to distract him while the larger golems repositioned.

Mike adjusted, spinning his weapons into a blinding whirlwind of golden light. Every move was calculated, every swing perfectly timed. The smaller constructs were shredded before they could reach him, and the larger golems were forced back, their massive forms rattled by the precision of his attacks.

"Impressive," Seris murmured, tilting her head. "He's not just strong… he reads the battlefield perfectly."

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