“So, what do you think? Are you finally convinced?”
Freya didn’t answer Solomon’s question, her gaze fixed on the ongoing duel.
Clang—!
Clang—!
‘He looks so different now…’
Solomon couldn’t tell which Azriel was the real one.
Was it the one back in Europe?
The devil in the café?
The charming prince just before the duel?
Or the one before him now, who didn’t even seem human?
Solomon had to hold back a chuckle.
‘And they dare call me the clown.’
“His battle style is certainly strange… If he were on my level, even I would have been caught off guard multiple times.”
Only praise left Solomon’s lips as he observed Azriel dueling with Caleus.
The fight had grown more intense ever since Azriel started bleeding.
Everyone had already forgotten this was supposed to be a friendly spar.
“Muay Thai…”
“Huh?”
Solomon looked at Freya, surprised she had spoken.
“It’s a forgotten martial art. Look at his stance, the way he shifts his weight. It’s unmistakably Muay Thai, at least the basis of his style is.”
Observing Azriel more closely, Solomon realized Freya was right.
As Azriel parried Caleus’s spear thrust, he shifted his stance, delivering a swift knee strike to his ribs.
“Argh!”
The unexpected move threw Caleus off balance, and the crowd gasped. Azriel didn’t relent; he followed up with his katana slicing through the air in a deadly arc.
His footwork was fluid.
Clang—!
Clang—!
Clang—!
Solomon narrowed his eyes, his face becoming serious. Anyone looking at him would be surprised to see such a rare expression.
“How did he learn something like that?”
It was ridiculous.
To integrate such an unconventional martial art with his swordsmanship—a monstrous feat.
‘Ah… I was right to choose you, Azriel.’
No matter what happens, Solomon wouldn’t regret his choices, even if it resulted in his downfall.
*****
‘What the hell is wrong with this guy?!’
Every time Caleus lunged forward, his spear slicing through the air with deadly precision, the tip would graze past Azriel by mere inches.
It was as if the man was dancing around him, a ghostly wraith shifting just out of reach.
Azriel’s movements were fluid and unpredictable, his body bending and twisting with a grace that made him seem almost untouchable.
Azriel would always shift his body or parry his attacks just in time.
His footwork constantly kept Caleus almost off guard.
His entire focus was on Azriel’s body, moving like a snake trying to coil around him.
‘Just how much did he train!?’
Even if Azriel spent two years in the void realm, the mere thought of him being able to be on par with Caleus on pure skill alone seemed absurd.
It made Caleus wonder if Azriel had perhaps been training in some secluded place instead of just surviving.
But nonetheless…
Caleus’s grin never left his face.
It was fun.
The fact that Azriel wasn’t weaker than him like Celestina or stronger like Jasmine or the Dusk Prince made him happy—and excited.
His predatory smile only widened as he looked into Azriel’s deep crimson eyes.
To Caleus, it felt as though Azriel viewed him like some insignificant ant.
But…
‘Are you enjoying yourself as well?’
To Caleus, it also seemed like Azriel was merely suppressing himself.
‘Are you having fun like me?’
‘Is your heart racing?’
‘Can you feel the adrenaline coursing through you?’
The subtle twitch Azriel had when Caleus first grazed him was proof enough that he could feel pain.
He wasn’t entirely emotionless, even if the sight of the blank-faced crimson prince made the hairs on Caleus’s neck stand on end.
“Haa!”
Caleus lunged forward with a roar, aiming to sever Azriel’s neck with a vicious swipe of his spear.
Azriel, anticipating the attack, dropped to one knee, the spear whistling overhead. In a single fluid motion, he whipped his katana upward in a deadly arc.
‘Fast!’
Slish—!
Caleus’s instincts kicked in just as the blade descended. He twisted to the left, feeling the air crackle with the force of the near miss. A thin line of blood traced his jawline as the blade grazed him.
Drip… Drip…
Instead of retreating, Caleus gritted his teeth and adapted on the fly. He switched his spear to his left hand with a practiced flick and thrust his open right palm toward the kneeling Azriel.
Azriel tilted his torso to the right, narrowly evading the strike.
‘Gotcha!’
In that split second, as Azriel moved, Caleus’s spear lunged toward his exposed neck.
But Azriel’s reflexes were razor-sharp; he sprang backward with just enough speed to avoid a fatal wound, though the edge of the spear still drew a shallow cut across his neck.
‘Tch…! always narrowly escaping.’
Azriel gaze remained as cold as ever. Blood seeped from the wound, but he didn’t flinch, his expression betraying nothing of the pain this time.
Caleus narrowed his eyes, a complex mix of frustration and begrudging respect etching across his face.
‘Always just out of reach…’
He could feel the duel dragging on longer than it should, his stamina waning with each passing moment.
The reliance on pure skill and the self-imposed restrictions made the fight feel like a relentless grind.
‘…Once you’re in the academy, I’ll have a rematch with you, Azriel.’
A duel with no restrictions.
A fight where they could unleash their full power.
Caleus tightened his grip on his spear, muscles coiling as he bent forward, aiming the spearhead directly at Azriel’s chest.
‘If you win this exchange, then it will be my loss.’
Azriel, catching the shift in Caleus’s stance, braced himself, gripping Void Eater with both hands.
He bent his knees and raised the blade in a defensive posture.
Neither had managed to land a decisive blow, but it wasn’t due to lack of effort or hesitation—both were capable of getting healed almost instantaneously if deeply injured.
The reality was…
The Crimson and Nebula Princes were evenly matched in skill and resolve.
In a heartbeat, they sprang forward, their movements synchronized.
The ground trembled beneath them, sending ripples of wind that rustled the spectators’ clothes and hair.
Caleus’s spear thrust forward with deadly precision, targeting the narrow gap in Azriel’s defense.
Simultaneously, Azriel’s Void Eater arced through the air, a diagonal sweep intended to intercept.
Swish—!
Clang—!
The collision of their weapons rang out like a thunderclap, and they instantly vanished from sight.
A heartbeat later, they reappeared a meter apart, their backs turned to one another, panting heavily.
The crowd gasped, their breath collectively catching as they processed the scene.
Azriel’s right shoulder bore a deep, gaping wound, blood seeping from the gash.
Caleus had a diagonal cut running from his left shoulder to his right waist, the blood already beginning to pool beneath him.
Their bodies swayed, struggling to maintain balance as they fought against the pull of their injuries.
Thud—!
Caleus was the first to fall to his knees, his spear clattering to the ground beside him.
Thud—!
Moments later, Azriel also crumpled to the ground, his blade slipping from his grasp.
A tense silence enveloped the arena as the crowd stared in stunned disbelief at the fallen princes.
The winner of the duel is…
Azriel Crimson.