Azrael did not wait; he removed his hand from his pocket, swiftly channelling essence through his body.
His body seemed to change in the moment, his strength heightened beyond limits.
He felt he could easily withstand a barrage of bullets from earth without a scratch.
Luke covered the distance between them in that brief moment, dagger slicing forward in a brutal arc towards Azrael's neck.
A sharp glint appeared in Azrael's eyes as he saw the dagger approach. His body twisted at the last moment, rolling away from the dagger's trajectory.
Before Luke could even regain balance or make sense of what had happened, Azrael's essence-infused arm burst forward, smashing against his back with a sickening bang.
Luke flew, his body only coming to a halt after he hit an invisible barrier at the edge of the arena.
Blood spluttered from his mouth, daggers falling to the floor.
This was the reason Azrael was able to rise to the top at only the age of 19, one year after he started his career.
He made perfect use of timing.
Everyone in the arena looked at Azrael with surprise.
He had just pushed Luke back with just one attack. That was too monstrous even if Luke was not using any essence or skill.
"No wonder he refused all weapons provided to him," Clara said as she watched with bright eyes.
Luke cleaned the blood seeping from the side of his lips.
Slowly, he stood up, picking up his daggers as he rose.
A smile tugged at his lips.
"Young Lord Azrael," he said calmly but still loud enough for Azrael and the people outside the field to hear. "I may have underestimated you, but that doesn't mean you will win against me."
As he said this, his frame pulsed as essence flowed through every it.
His body was heightened, far beyond what Azrael had achieved with his minor control over essence, coupled with his limited pool.
But instead of retreating, Azrael only stood calmly.
'With my current essence pool, I can maintain phase shift for at most 20 minutes,' he mused, a smile tugging his lips. 'That should be enough.'
As if in tacit agreement, both men flashed forward, destroying the earth beneath them.
Luke was the first to move, his dagger flashing forward as the white hue of essence enveloped it.
Before Azrael could react, the dagger sliced cleanly through his shoulders.
But it met no resistance, passing through him like he was a phantom. Luke had expected to see blood splatter from the wound his strike caused, but reality proved otherwise.
But he was no newbie to fights; he regained his senses quickly, withdrawing his daggers just in time to block Azrael's punch.
Before he could move, however, Azrael's leg flashed forward, towards his stomach with strength that made the wind groan.
Luke's face turned grim.
He knew for sure, essence coating or not, if that kick hit him, there was no way out.
And in that single moment, he activated a skill.
His body erupted in a mass of mist that enveloped the area in obscurity.
Azrael's kick met nothing, only scattering the mist around him.
He squinted his eyes. The mist had covered everything in a haze where he could not see even his own body parts, much less the enemy.
'So this is one of his skills,' Azrael thought.
Before he could take a step, a figure materialised behind him, dagger flashing forward as it tore through the mist towards his shoulder.
Before Azrael could react or activate his skill, the dagger cleaved through his arm, only stopping near his bone.
Pain shot through his body, his eyes turning red from agony.
He could not even scream as the pain seemed to have been amplified beyond normal.
But even he knew it was not amplification, just the effect of essence coated around a blade.
His essence moved rapidly as he activated his regeneration skill.
The shoulder began to stitch together, from bone fragments to muscles, until the shoulder was completely healed.
"Singularity generation," he muttered, not even wasting a single moment after his shoulder regenerated.
From his hand, a single mote of black light began to form, expanding till it could stay on its own.
Everyone watched wide-eyed as the mote, now turned portal, began to suck the mist into its centre, pulling everything closer to Azrael.
In desperation, Luke's form emerged, crystallising from the mist that escaped.
Before he could even behold the absorption, a punch landed in his face fairly, breaking his nose. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he flew backwards.
Before he could land, Azrael was already there, ready to deliver another lunch right through his opponent's chest.
But the time never came. The shadow beneath his legs stirred. Before he could notice this change, Luke jumped out of it, daggers glistening with a clean sheen as he placed them on Azrael's neck.
"I win," he said.
His voice was pitifully weak.
Azrael looked at him. He still had two skills that could have helped him in this situation; he could either use phase shift to let the dagger pass through his neck or just regenerate immediately.
But that would mean cheating. If Luke had just sliced his neck when he emerged from the shadows, there would have been no chance to even use those skills.
"Alright," Azrael said with a smile.
Far beyond the arena, two men stared through a window, monitoring the fight with glasses of wine in their hands.
It was Abaddon and Erebus.
"Lord Abaddon, is it just me or was Young master Azrael holding back?" He asked.
Although he knew the answer. As a proud powerhouse, he could easily detect such things, but the reality of it made him reconsider.
Abaddon smiled. "He is just like Dante, not even taking the fight seriously," he said as his smile grew louder.
"So he was truly holding back," Erebus muttered.
"Pass my word, Azrael is replacing Luke for the competition. And tell him to get ready for class tomorrow."
Erebus bowed as he walked out of the office to convey Abaddon's words.
Meanwhile, Abaddon just smiled from the window. "I wonder what Lilura would say when she gets back."