Chapter 29: Fifteen Years of Waste
Chapter 29: Fifteen Years of Waste
Several minor preliminary matches passed in a blur of clashing steel, roars, and blood. From the comfort of the luxurious VIP balconies, Rael and Saint Solenne enjoyed the spectacle, taking small sips from gold-rimmed goblets as the afternoon sun began to dip toward the western horizon, casting long, crimson shadows across the blood-soaked sands of Empyrium.
Finally, as the last fallen gladiator was dragged out by arena attendants, a sharp, magical chime rang out across the stadium.
High above, the blonde commentator leaned over her floating brass platform, her face glowing with theatrical excitement. Her voice, amplified by rune magic, thundered through every corridor and archway.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! NOBLE LORDS AND HONORABLE GUESTS!” she cried out, waving her arms dramatically. “The time has finally arrived! The main dish of this glorious evening is upon us! Standing in the southern gate is our legendary, undefeated champion Renji! And facing him from the northern gate... is a guest challenger of noble blood from an unknown land!”
The announcement sent a shockwave of frantic murmurs and confused whispers through the fifty-thousand-strong crowd.
“Wait, a noble? Is that allowed?” a burly mercenary in the commoner seats muttered, scratching his bearded jaw. “Aren't nobles usually pampered softies?”
“Nah, Master Renji will probably show him some mercy because of his title,” another spectator replied with a laugh. “Can’t go around execute highborns like stray dogs, can he?”
“Are you kidding me? This is the best ticket I’ve ever bought!” a young merchant grinned greedily. “Watching a high-and-mighty noble get utterly humiliated by Renji? That’s a once-in-a-lifetime sight! I put half my savings on Renji winning in under ten seconds!”
“It’s obvious, isn't it? Most nobles just pay tutors to praise them. Real combat is a whole different beast!”
Up in the main VIP box, Mayor Rigid’s face twisted into a grotesque, eager sneer. He gestured sharply to his armored guards, who approached Vhal’zhar with silver trays and magical detecting rods.
Vhal’zhar stood up slowly, his towering frame casting a shadow over the guards. With an expression of supreme indifference, he unbuckled his heavy leather belts and tossed aside every one of looks like a weapon will be temporary confiscated, letting them clatter onto the marble table.
The guards carefully ran their glowing rods up and down Vhal’zhar’s body, checking for concealed enchantments or hidden blades.
“All clear, sir,” the lead guard reported, bowing respectfully to the Mayor. “He carries no weapons or magical focus items.”
“Excellent! Splendid!” Mayor Rigid chuckled under his breath, his eyes gleaming with sadistic anticipation. He was practically salivating at the thought of seeing Vhal’zhar’s head flying off his shoulders in a matter of seconds.
Reaching down to the side of his velvet armchair, Mayor Rigid flipped open a brass cover and pressed a deep obsidian button hidden beneath it.
Instantly, a low, reverberating hum resonated from beneath the stadium’s stone foundation. Deep blue mana surged upward from four massive obsidian pillars surrounding the arena ring, weaving together into a towering, translucent sphere. The dome wrapped entirely around the central sand floor, sealing both combatants inside. A second later, the blue energy shimmered softly and vanished into complete transparency, allowing the crowd to see clearly inside while completely isolating the interior.
“WOOOAH!” the commentator hypes, pointing down toward the shimmering perimeter. “A truly rare sight has manifested today! The Grand Suppression Barrier has been activated! Within that field, no spellcaster can draw upon mana, and no magic can be cast! This duel shall be decided purely by the raw strength of flesh and steel! We can only hope Mister Renji shows a little mercy toward our noble challenger!”
The crowd erupted into wild cheers, chanting Renji’s name in unison. Nobles in neighboring VIP boxes raised their spyglasses, intrigued by the unusual setup.
Down at the arena level, two massive iron gates ground open simultaneously.
“Here we go, ladies and gentlemen!” the commentator shouted over the thunderous applause. “Emerging from the South Gate... our reigning champion, the undefeated shadow of Empyrium RENJI!”
Renji stepped out into the blinding sunlight, his posture calm and relaxed, his left hand resting lightly on his dark katana.
“And from the North Gate... the bold stranger who dares to challenge our champion!” The blonde commentator paused, her eyes widening slightly as Vhal’zhar stepped into the light. “Woah... it seems our noble challenger is remarkably handsome! Ah, it almost feels like a tragedy to see such a magnificent face potentially fall upon the sand today!”
CLANG!
A heavy bronze gong echoed through the stadium, signalling the absolute start of the death match.
Renji and Vhal’zhar walked toward the center ring with slow, measured steps, coming to a halt roughly twenty paces apart. The silence that settled over the sand was deafening.
Renji’s sharp eyes narrowed, instantly scanning Vhal’zhar from head to toe. He analyzed the man’s center of gravity, the width of his stance, the tension in his shoulders, and how his breath flowed. Yet, to Renji’s mild confusion, Vhal’zhar possessed no stance at all. He stood entirely exposed, his hands resting casually at his sides as if he were taking a casual stroll through a garden.
Vhal’zhar glanced at Renji and let out a light, mocking smirk. “Relax, mortal. Don’t worry... I won’t resort to a cheap surprise attack like you did against that iron-handed brute earlier.”
Renji’s brow twitched slightly, his pride prickling at the comment. “What?”
Vhal’zhar tilted his head, his dark eyes locked onto Renji’s hand. “That draw-and-slash motion you executed earlier... it was thoroughly practiced, I’ll give you that. Let me guess... did you spend five years practicing that single motion to achieve that speed?”
Renji stared back, his voice cool and devoid of emotion, though a faint trace of arrogance leaked through. “No. It was fifteen years.”
He expected the stranger to gasp, to shrink back, or at least to display a hint of admiration for a decade and a half of absolute, singular dedication to the way of the sword.
Instead, Vhal’zhar let out a long, disappointed sigh, shaking his head with genuine pity.
“Fifteen years, huh?” Vhal’zhar shook his head, a cold chuckle escaping his lips. “Fifteen entire years... just to achieve a pathetic, sluggish motion like that? What a waste. A complete and utter waste of time. You really possess zero talent, don't you?”
Renji’s eyes widened slightly in shock. A surge of cold anger flickered in his chest, but he forced his expression to remain stoic, rationalizing the stranger's words as mere tactical provocation.
“Heh... do you truly believe you can anger me and force me to lower my guard with cheap insults?” Renji scoffed, his fingers tightening slightly around his hilt. “You wish.”
Vhal’zhar threw his head back and laughed loudly, the sound echoing hollowly within the anti-magic dome. “Hahaha! Lower your guard? Puny human... do you honestly think I need you to lower your guard to kill you? You make a terrible mistake. I can end your miserable life whenever I desire.”
Renji blinked, genuinely bewildered by the man’s supreme delusion. “Are you nuts? Did the pressure of standing before death drive you insane? Have you lost the ability to think logically?”
Vhal’zhar wiped a tear of laughter from his eye, his expression suddenly darkening into something predatory and ancient.
“Haah... death, you say?” Vhal’zhar took a single, casual step forward, his voice dropping into a chilling register that vibrated straight into Renji’s spine. “I am the one who shall show you what death truly looks like. But since you are so immensely proud of your little fifteen-year trick... why don't we test it? Try striking my neck. Go on. Strike with everything you have, if you still foolishly believe your life is in your own hands.”
Renji stood frozen for a beat. Whether it was the intoxication of his unbroken winning streak, or the deep-seated pride of a master swordsman who had never met his match, his sense of danger had grown numb over the years. He knew he was being careful he thought he was taking this fight seriously but deep down in his subconscious, a primal instinct that had been buried for years suddenly screamed at him.
A tiny, quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered: Do not touch this man. Stay away.
Renji buried that voice instantly, dismissing it as momentary hesitation. This stranger carried no weapon, had no stance, and was sealed inside an anti-magic barrier. There was no physical way he could survive a lethal blow.
A thin, cold smile formed on Renji’s lips as he lowered his center of gravity, sinking into his absolute quick-draw stance.
“You seem remarkably eager to cross into the afterlife,” Renji murmured smoothly, his fingers resting on the hilt. “Then allow me to grant your wish.”
High above, the commentator pointed enthusiastically toward the ring. “WOOOAH! There it is, ladies and gentlemen! Champion Renji has adopted his signature execution stance! It seems he is paying his noble opponent the ultimate respect by using his finest technique!”
The audience roared in excitement, thousands of eyes straining to catch the fraction of a second where the blade would leave its sheath.
Renji breathed out a slow, steady stream of air. His mind went entirely blank.
Slowly... agonizingly slowly... his hand drew the dark katana out of its sheath by a mere inch. A suffocating, pitch-black aura emitted from the exposed steel, distorting the air around his wrist.
Then, in the next microsecond BLUR!
Renji’s arm vanished into thin air. The invisible, soundless strike that had decapitated a hundred formidable warriors rolled forward like a whisper of death, aiming straight for Vhal’zhar’s exposed throat.
THANG!
A sharp, deafening metallic screech exploded across the arena floor, ringing like a cracked church bell.
The crowd’s roaring screams froze instantly in their throats. The commentator’s jaw dropped wide open. Thousands of spectators sat in stunned, absolute silence.
Never in the history of the Colosseum of Empyrium had Renji’s quick-draw technique produced a sound. It was a silent strike a move that left only headless corpses in its wake.
Yet now, the sound of violent metal impact vibrated through the air, shaking the very glass of the VIP boxes.
Renji’s eyes were opened as wide as teacups, his lungs completely forgetting how to breathe. Sweat erupted across his forehead instantly, his entire body trembling violently from the brutal feedback that had traveled back up his arms and shattered his wrist bones.
There was no blood. No severed head.
Vhal’zhar hadn't dodged. He hadn't even shifted his feet.
The jet-black, cursed blade of Renji’s legendary katana was stopped dead in its tracks halted mere millimeters from Vhal’zhar’s pale neck held firmly between the tip of Vhal’zhar’s, pointed index and middle fingernail.
Vhal’zhar stood effortlessly, looking down at the trembling champion with a lazy, bored smile.
“See?” Vhal’zhar whispered softly, his eyes gleaming dark dimly with cruel amusement. “Talentless.”
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