"Ha! Friends?" Marcus Han burst into mocking laughter. "The legendary Prince of Gloom, Andre Blaine, befriending this pathetic loser? That's rich—absolutely laughable!"
Andre's expression turned cold.
"Marcus," he said, voice low but sharp as steel, "insult him again, and I'll challenge you to a duel."
A ripple of tension swept through the crowd.
Marcus's smirk faltered.
He knew his limits. Though he was a Level-10 Mecha Warrior, Andre was already a One-Star Mecha Knight. The difference between the two wasn't merely numerical—it was the gap between earth and sky. A true qualitative leap.
Trying to save face, Marcus scoffed.
"So that's why you've been acting all bold, huh, Lyn? Found yourself a bodyguard?"
But Lyn stepped forward, voice steady and cold:
"I've never provoked you, Marcus. But you've repeatedly sought to humiliate me. You want to talk about arrogance? There are few in this academy more arrogant than you."
"So what, you want to fight me now?" Marcus said, eyes narrowing.
"That's right," Lyn replied. "I challenge you—to a duel."
"A duel? You?" Marcus laughed in disbelief. "You can't even pilot a mecha!"
"Not with mechs," Lyn said, eyes unwavering. "Hand-to-hand. No gear. Just fists. Or are you scared?"
The challenge was sharp, like a blade across the cheek.
"Fine," Marcus growled. "Hand-to-hand it is. You're digging your own grave. Let's go—to the Combat Hall!"
"Better write your will first," Lyn said calmly.
"Save it. You're the one who'll need last words," Marcus spat, already striding away.
Lyn turned to Andre.
"Care to come watch?"
"With pleasure," Andre smiled faintly.
"Oh my god! He smiled! THE prince smiled!" a girl nearby screamed, almost fainting.
"Yan," said Mina, bursting into their dorm. "Have you heard? That guy who's totally into you—Lyn—is about to duel Marcus Han!"
"What?" Murong Yan blinked. "Where did you hear that?"
"The school forums, duh! It's happening now at the Combat Hall!" Mina grabbed her coat. "Even Andre is there!"
"Andre? What does this have to do with him?" Yan frowned, puzzled.
"No clue! But I'm not missing this. You coming or not?"
"Wait—I'm coming!" Murong Yan hesitated for a beat, then chased after her roommate.
Elsewhere on campus, Tanya Bing was headed toward the Mecha Training Center when she heard her name.
"Tanya! Tanya!"
She turned to see her friends Amy and Arin sprinting toward her.
"You have to come! Quick—to the Combat Hall!"
"Why?" Tanya asked, folding her arms.
"Your rumored boyfriend is about to get in a fight!" Arin gasped, grabbing her hand.
"My what?"
"Lyn!" Amy cried. "He's dueling Marcus Han! You better come quick or they'll be scraping him off the floor!"
"That's his problem," Tanya snapped. But even as she said it, her feet had already begun to move.
Arin grinned. She knew Tanya too well.
News of the duel spread through Nottingham Academy like wildfire. Students poured into the Combat Hall, a place rarely visited outside of scheduled matches. Now, it throbbed with excitement.
On the platform, Lyn stood motionless, calm as still water.
This wasn't recklessness. He knew his current Qi level was still below the first tier. But he had one advantage: magic. It might not be powerful yet—but if used wisely, it could keep him in the fight.
More importantly, he was seeking something deeper: a breakthrough.
He knew that many warriors on the Aurelian Continent often broke through their limits in battle. Perhaps this was his moment.
He glanced across the platform at Marcus and allowed himself a slight smile.
He didn't need to win.
He just needed to survive.
If he could do that—it would crush Marcus more than any victory.
"Let's begin!" Marcus barked.
There was no referee. The crowd would judge.
Lyn said nothing. He simply curled his finger in a silent, taunting gesture.
Marcus's face darkened.
Thud!He launched forward, foot pounding the floor, fist swinging hard.
The duel began.
Marcus's speed was incredible—his punches sharp, precise, and vicious. He wasn't holding back. He wanted to break Lyn—mind, body, and spirit.
Lyn, to his dismay, realized he'd made a grave error. He had vastly underestimated Marcus's strength.
He'd thought he could dodge. He couldn't.
No time for spells. No space to breathe.
Only one choice: endure.
He summoned every ounce of his Qi, blocking blow after blow. Each impact pushed him back. Within seconds, Marcus had thrown over a dozen punches, and Lyn was barely holding on, his arms numb, his breath short.
THUD!
A brutal punch to the chest.
Lyn was airborne.
CRACK!
He crashed onto the floorboards.
Cough!Blood sprayed from his lips.
"Pathetic," Marcus sneered. "Trash will always be trash."
It was the Purple Bamboo Grove all over again.
But this time, Lyn's fists clenched. His body trembled—not from fear, but fury.
ROAR!He staggered to his feet, eyes bloodshot.
BAM! Another punch sent him sprawling.
Seconds later—he stood again.
Another punch.A block.A fall.A rise.
Again.And again.
The crowd, once jeering, grew quiet. Then silent.
Lyn didn't know what fueled him anymore. Pain blurred everything. But some force—some will—kept him on his feet.
He couldn't lose.
He wouldn't.
He would never taste that humiliation again.
"Come on, Marcus," he growled through bloody lips. "We're not done."
His uniform was soaked with his own blood. But he didn't care.
Within him, something was changing.
His Qi, weak and sluggish, suddenly began to flow faster—sharper.
And his strength… was returning.
...