BATTLE FOR STARS

The fourth round began soon after. One of the central pillars had already disappeared, and Jace had also been stripped of his spare dagger. The judgment from earlier rounds was clear, though the impact wasn’t decisive yet—he still had his shield and short blade.

After two full rounds, neither fighter had drawn blood, which was rare for a death match like this. Perhaps it was the gravity of the stakes, or simply how cautious both had been.

Jace knew his chances were slim—but he was no one to surrender and wait for death. A veteran sword gladiator of many years, he had spent not just time indulging himself before the match, but also carefully preparing for today’s fight.

He understood one thing clearly: if he failed to gain ground in this round, the fourth would be unwinnable. By then, whether he kept the blade or the shield, it wouldn’t matter—he’d be reduced to prey.

But gaining an advantage over Berg was no easy task. Fighters chosen for this arena, even with large differences in class, were all battle-hardened veterans. Mistakes were rare—after all, every match was fought with their lives on the line.

Berg understood this just as well. If he could maintain dominance through this round, the next would turn into a complete one-sided slaughter. As a result, although he remained on the offensive, he grew more cautious. His attacks became fewer, more deliberate.

It soon became obvious—Jace was pushing harder now. Several times he attempted to close the distance for close combat. While Berg wasn’t afraid of melee—his strength and backup dagger made him formidable—he preferred to keep the fight at range.

Each time Jace advanced, Berg retreated swiftly, reestablishing distance before counterattacking. After several failed attempts, Jace gained nothing—in fact, he suffered a cut from the spear. It wasn’t crippling, but it was enough to tilt the round once more in Berg’s favor.

Up to this point, Berg had fully displayed his strengths—powerful, precise, and relentless with his halberd. Meanwhile, Jace showcased agility, using movement and his shield to block nearly every strike.

But as time ticked away, the round neared its end—and Jace shifted strategy.

He stopped relying on ambushes from the pillars and began engaging head-on.

Berg welcomed this. Without the pillars interfering, his weapon had full freedom. He pressed forward aggressively, forcing Jace back step by step. Soon, Jace was nearly pinned against a pillar behind him. His defense was faltering—his shield movements slowing, his strength visibly draining.

Then it happened.

A slight misstep—Jace’s shield angled just wrong. The blade edge of Berg’s halberd hooked the shield’s rim and wrenched it aside, exposing Jace’s torso.

It was the perfect opening.

Berg seized it instantly. With a powerful swing, he thrust the halberd forward, aiming to end the match in one strike.

But in that split second—

Jace didn’t retreat.

Instead, he threw away his shield, planted his foot hard against the pillar behind him, and kicked off with explosive force. Using his blade to deflect the incoming thrust, he rode along the line of the halberd like a bullet, launching himself straight at Berg.

Berg’s eyes widened in shock.

He had never imagined such a sudden acceleration—there was no time to retract the weapon, no time to halt his momentum. But as a seasoned gladiator, his instincts took over.

He let go of the halberd.

In the same instant, he drew the short blade from his shoulder and met Jace’s attack head-on.

Clang!

A deafening impact echoed across the arena as the two collided and separated.

Jace didn’t pursue. Instead, he rolled aside, quickly retrieving the shield he had discarded.

Berg, too, spun back and reclaimed his halberd.

But now—

A long gash had opened across Berg’s chest. Blood poured steadily from the wound. It wasn’t deep—but it was close. Without that last-second block, he might already be dead.

Jace stood there, breathing heavily. Though part of his earlier retreat had been an act, the sheer intensity of that exchange had drained him completely.

Everything had been planned.

He had guided Berg step by step into the ideal position, feigned weakness, lured him into overcommitting—then unleashed his final, decisive strike.

The setup had been perfect.

But Berg’s reaction had been just fast enough.

What should have been a killing blow ended up as a surface wound.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Jace’s face.

Berg, meanwhile, looked pale, his breathing uneven. That moment had brought him terrifyingly close to death.

Still, he steadied himself quickly, regaining composure.

Before either could launch the next exchange—the round ended.

By the rules, Berg had clearly lost this round. His only consolation was the break—time enough to stop the bleeding.

Inside the VIP box, the audience grew excited.

There was blood now—and more importantly, a twist. No one had expected Jace to turn the tide through strategy. The fight was no longer one-sided. It had become interesting.

For most spectators, a brutal slaughter was entertaining—but a clever reversal made it even better.

Only Ding Yufei felt otherwise.

To him, a battle where lives were gambled for spectacle held no real appeal.

As the fourth round began, Berg had lost his life-saving dagger. Only his halberd remained.

This round would decide everything.

Whoever lost it would be forced to give up another weapon—and in the final round, that would mean certain death.

Both fighters knew it.

And so, they moved carefully.

But for Berg, one advantage stood above all—

The pillars were gone.

Now, there was nowhere left for Jace to hide.