I Evolve 10,000 Times Faster

The crowd shuffled backward, clearing a wide circle in the center of the courtyard. Students pressed against the walls and stood on benches, trying to get a better view. The air buzzed with nervous excitement.

From the Royal Enforcer squad, a figure stepped forward.

Sir Dorian was tall, broad-shouldered, and painfully well-groomed. His blonde hair was slicked back with what was probably an expensive product. His armor was custom-fitted, etched with golden vines along the edges.

He looked like a painting come to life.

He also looked like someone who had never been punched in the face.

"So this is the slum rat," Dorian said, looking Holden up and down with open disgust. He drew his weapon. A massive greatsword, nearly as tall as Holden, with a blade that glowed faint blue with embedded Aether channels. "I expected someone taller."

"Sorry to disappoint," Holden said.

Dorian rested the greatsword on his shoulder and smirked. "I’ll be honest with you. Lord Oscar specifically requested I make this quick. He doesn’t want you suffering too long before the end." He leaned forward slightly. "My record is three seconds. But for you, I’ll stretch it to five. Consider that a kindness from a noble to a gutter rat."

"Wow," Holden said flatly. "A kindness. How generous."

"I will mount your head on the palace wall," Dorian continued, clearly enjoying his own voice. "Right next to the other animals. It will be the most useful thing you’ve ever done with your worthless life."

"You done?" Holden asked. "Because I was going to grab lunch after this."

Dorian’s smirk vanished. His face flushed red. "You arrogant little—"

An instructor stepped into the ring holding a small bronze bell.

"This is a formal Academy Blood Duel," the instructor announced. "No lethal blows are permitted. The match will conclude only when one fighter yields, is knocked unconscious, or is physically unable to continue. Are both of you ready?"

Dorian snapped into a combat stance, his greatsword coming off his shoulder. The blue glow along the blade intensified. "Ready."

Holden put his hands in his pockets. "Sure."

The instructor raised the bell.

Ding!

Dorian exploded forward.

He was really fast. His Rank 2, 4-Star strength launched him across the courtyard like a silver bullet. He braced his shoulder, swung his greatsword in a massive arc with both hands, and unleashed his strongest signature technique.

"Royal Crescent Strike!"

The blade carved a wide arc through the air, trailing a line of blue Aether energy. It was a finishing move. The kind of technique royal combat masters spent years perfecting. It had enough force to split a stone pillar in half.

The crowd gasped.

Lyra screamed Holden’s name.

And Holden watched it happen in slow motion.

The 10,000x multiplier didn’t just make him think faster. It rewired his perception entirely. Dorian’s charge, which should have been a blur, unfolded in front of him like a flower blooming. He could see every muscle fiber in the noble’s legs contracting. He could see the exact angle of the greatsword’s swing. He could see the Aether energy trailing off the blade in uneven patches, revealing that Dorian’s control was sloppy.

He counted the flaws.

Dorian’s leading foot landed at a bad angle. Poor balance.

His grip on the greatsword moved halfway through the swing. Nervous hands.

He dropped his left shoulder before the strike landed. Telegraphing the attack from ten meters away.

This man had expensive training.

He did not have good training.

Holden didn’t draw his sword.

He didn’t use Gale-Step.

He took one casual step forward.

Time crawled. The greatsword swung toward his neck.

Holden pulled his right hand out of his pocket and raised it in front of him.

He slapped the flat side of the greatsword with his bare palm.

Clang!

The greatsword, a weapon forged from high-grade Aether steel, cracked down like a piece of dry wood. Then it shattered.

A hundred fragments of glowing blue steel sprayed outward like confetti. The Aether energy dissolved into harmless sparks that faded in the sunlight.

Dorian’s eyes went wide.

His hands were empty. The hilt and crossguard were all that remained of his weapon. His arms were numb from the vibration of the impact traveling up through the blade.

He looked at his broken sword. Then he looked at Holden’s palm.

Not a scratch.

"How—" Dorian started.

Holden flicked his index finger against Dorian’s chest.

Boom!

The kinetic shockwave hit Dorian like a cannonball. His armor dented inward. His feet left the ground. He flew backward across the courtyard, unable to stop himself as his arms and legs flailed in every direction.

He crashed directly into the Royal Knight.

They hit the floor hard and didn’t get up.

Hundreds of students stared at the scene. A noble prodigy and a Royal Knight, both unconscious on the ground. A slum orphan standing in the middle of the courtyard with his hands at his sides, not even breathing hard.

Renna was the first to speak.

"HOLY COW!"

The courtyard exploded into chaos. Students shouted, pointed, and grabbed each other. Emric was rapidly muttering calculations under his breath. Maeve stood near the back, smiling proudly.

The remaining Royal Enforcers stood still, their halberds trembling in their grips. They looked at their unconscious leader. They looked at the broken greatsword fragments scattered across the floor. They looked at Holden.

Holden dusted off his hands.

"Five seconds was a pretty good guess, honestly," he said.

He turned and walked toward the Enforcers. They stiffened, raising their halberds instinctively.

Holden didn’t slow down.

"Take your trash and get off my campus," he said, walking right between two of them without breaking stride. "And tell Lord Oscar that if he sends anyone else, I won’t be as gentle."

[Ding!]

[Elite Duel Victory: Sir Dorian Thorne(Rank 2, 4-Star) Defeated!]

[Base Reward: 500 KP]

[Rank Difference Bonus: +500 KP]

[2x KP Booster Applied!]

[Total: +2,000 KP!]

[Current Balance: 35,390 KP]

Holden closed the notification and walked over to Lyra. She was standing exactly where he had left her, still holding his jacket.

"You couldn’t just use your sword like a normal person?" she asked, her voice a mix of exasperation and awe.

"Tried it once," Holden said, taking his jacket back. "But it was so boring."

She shook her head, but a smile broke through her worried expression. She reached out and took his hand, turning it over to inspect his palm.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not even a little."

Her fingers were warm against his skin. She traced the lines on his palm like she was checking for hidden damage. Her touch was gentle, careful, the kind of touch that came from someone who genuinely cared whether you were okay.

"I’m fine," Holden said softly.

"You’re never just fine," she replied. "You’re always doing something insane and then pretending it was easy."

"It was easy."

Lyra looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. Then she sighed, let go of his hand, and smoothed out her uniform.

"Breakfast," she said firmly. "You promised me breakfast after this."

"I didn’t actually promise that."

"You’re buying me breakfast, Holden."

"Yes ma’am."

They walked back toward the Prime Zone together, the courtyard still buzzing behind them.