CHAPTER 143: EDWIN VS MARTIS.

The announcer’s voice rang like thunder across the arena, shaking the air with excitement.

"Begin!"

Martis reacted the instant the word left the announcer’s lips. His muscles tensed like coiled springs, and he launched himself forward with surprising speed for someone wielding such a massive weapon.

His greatsword, heavy enough to cleave through steel, whistled as it cut the air. With a roar, he swung it in a broad, brutal arc aimed straight for Edwin’s skull — a blow that could end the match in a single strike if it landed.

Edwin’s instincts kicked in. He dropped into a low crouch, the wind of the blade ruffling his hair as it passed inches above his head.

A heartbeat later, the sword crashed into the stone floor with bone-rattling force. The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing across the arena tiles.

Shards of rock exploded upward like shrapnel, spraying the air with dust and debris.

Meanwhile, Jenner had already begun his assault. He raised both hands, palms glowing red-hot, and a stream of fireballs erupted in rapid succession.

Each blazing sphere streaked toward Elysia with a hiss, leaving trails of orange light in the smoky air.

Elysia didn’t flinch. Her expression was calm, her movements precise.

She stepped back lightly, the hem of her robe swirling around her ankles. With a practiced motion, she lifted her staff and drew a glowing circle in the air.

The circle flared to life, expanding into a radiant shield of pure light.

The first fireball struck the barrier with a booming crack, sending ripples of energy across its surface. Then came another, and another.

Each impact shook the shield, sparks flying like stars scattered across the arena. But the barrier held, absorbing the fiery onslaught and keeping her safe within its protective glow.

All around them, the battlefield changed.

Dust rose in thick, choking clouds, blurring the view of the crowd. The air itself vibrated with the force of Martis’ unrelenting swings, every strike against the ground making the protective enchantments around the arena shimmer and groan in protest. The audience could feel the raw power behind his attacks — like the earth itself might split open if the enchantments failed.

The announcer’s voice echoed through the arena like rolling thunder.

"Edwin of the Leonhart family... versus Martis of the Martis family! Begin!"

The crowd roared, a wave of cheers, whistles, and stomping feet shaking the stands. The anticipation was electric, and even the protective enchantments surrounding the arena seemed to hum in response.

Edwin adjusted his grip on his sword, holding it in a firm but flexible stance. His eyes narrowed as he studied his opponent.

Martis towered over him, armored from shoulder to shin, his greatsword gleaming under the sunlight.

But behind that bulk, Edwin could sense raw discipline. Martis wasn’t just a brute—he was trained.

The moment the word "Begin!" left the announcer’s mouth, Martis moved.

"HYAAH!" With a battle cry, Martis charged forward, his greatsword arcing downward like a thunderbolt.

Edwin slipped aside with razor-sharp reflexes, the blade smashing into the stone floor and cracking it wide open.

Dust and shards of stone shot upward. Edwin countered instantly, his own sword flashing toward a gap between Martis’s shoulder plate and chest guard.

Clang!

Sparks flew.

Martis twisted, catching the strike on the flat of his blade, before shoving Edwin back with sheer strength.

"Not bad," he growled. "You’re quicker than I expected."

"And you’re stronger than I thought," Edwin replied sharply, eyes glinting. "That sword swing nearly split the ground in two."

Martis smirked, rotating his massive blade and bringing it around in a brutal horizontal slash.

Edwin ducked under it, rolling forward, and came up right in Martis’s blind spot. With surgical precision, Edwin stabbed the ribs beneath the armor plates.

But Martis was no novice. He turned at the last second, his free hand snapping out like a steel hammer. His gauntleted fist slammed into Edwin’s shoulder.

"Ugh!" Edwin staggered backward, pain jolting through his arm.

The crowd gasped at the impact.

Martis’s voice rumbled like gravel, "You’ve got guts, Edwin. But guts won’t save you."

Edwin straightened, rolling his sore shoulder with a faint grin. "Maybe not. But speed will."

Without hesitation, he darted forward, sword flashing in a flurry of strikes aimed at Martis’s elbows, knees, and waist—anywhere the armor left the slightest weakness.

Each strike was fast as lightning, so fast the crowd could barely follow.

Martis roared, planting his feet. His blade became a shield, intercepting Edwin’s blows with sparks flying in every direction.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

Steel rang against steel, echoing across the arena like a smith’s hammer on an anvil.

"You fight like water," Martis admitted, his voice almost impressed as he parried strike after strike.

"Always flowing, always shifting. But walls don’t break just because water touches them."

"Maybe," Edwin said, smirking as his sword narrowly grazed Martis’s thigh plate. "But even the strongest walls erode with time."

Martis chuckled darkly. "Then come, let’s see if you can erode me before I crush you."

He pushed forward, forcing Edwin back step by step. Each swing of his blade carried crushing weight, forcing Edwin to meet brute force with nimble footwork.

One misstep, one late reaction, and Martis’s sword would split him apart.

Edwin pivoted to the left, trying to circle around. But Martis was relentless. With a roar, he brought his blade down in a diagonal arc, nearly cleaving the air itself.

Edwin barely raised his sword in time, the impact jolting up his arm. His knees bent under the force, boots skidding backward against the stone floor.

The audience erupted into wild cheers.

"Martis! Break him!" someone shouted.

"Edwin! Don’t give in!" another voice answered.

The clash of supporters only fueled the tension in the arena.

Edwin gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing. "Your strength... it’s monstrous."

"And yours is... persistent," Martis admitted with a grin. "I’ll remember your name, Edwin. Not many can withstand this much from me."

Edwin’s lips curved into a grin. "Good. Because you’ll be saying it again when I win."

Martis laughed, a deep and booming sound.