e-booksonline Chapter 29: ZEPHYR VS RIKAN
Chapter 29: ZEPHYR VS RIKAN
Chapter 29: ZEPHYR VS RIKANThe dust had barely settled from Logan’s shocking victory, but the atmosphere in the arena was already shifting again—less disbelief now, more tension.
The announcer’s voice rang out across the stadium, crisp and commanding:
"Match Thirteen—Stage Two! Token 23 versus Token 26! Zephyr Albrecht versus Rikan Hale!"
A ripple moved through the crowd. At first—silence. Then came the murmurs.
"Rikan Hale? The one from the Ironback Highlands?"
"Yeah. That guy’s a monster. I heard he broke a boy’s ribs in a spar just to prove a point."
"They say his mana’s so dense it shatters stone when he punches. This isn’t going to be pretty."
In the second-floor balcony, Logan had returned to his seat among the Smith family. Alice was beaming beside him, her hands still warm from hugging him earlier.
"I’m just... so proud of you," she said for the fifth time.
He smiled gently but kept his eyes forward.
Mirena, sitting nearby, forced a tight-lipped smile. "Congratulations," she said, the word sticking like tar in her throat.
Kael said nothing at all. His expression was unreadable—his silence not cold, but... contemplative.
Logan glanced out at the roaring gallery. He could hear voices buzzing, even from up here.
"...Rikan’s gonna crush whoever that other guy is..."
"...Unless Zephyr really is as good as they say..."
He leaned back and exhaled. I didn’t want to show too much. But it’s getting harder to stay hidden.
Then his eyes flicked to Zephyr Albrecht.
The boy was standing silently at the edge of the arena gate, posture loose, but his gaze razor-sharp. Serene. Focused.
Almost like Morgan.
But Logan could tell—there was something different.
Morgan fought like a blade sharpened by grief, driven by vengeance. Zephyr... was
Steel and spray.
The crowd could hardly keep up. The very platform trembled under their feet.
And for the first time in the entire tournament... no one was sure who would win. Because both of them were evenly matched.
Rikan’s axe cleaved through the air like a battering ram made of flame and stone, while Zephyr countered with precise elemental control—sharp gusts to misdirect, cold jets of water to parry and blind.
Each time Rikan advanced, Zephyr answered with minimal movement and maximum efficiency.
But it wasn’t one-sided.
Rikan caught Zephyr off guard once, slamming his foot down and sending a burst of molten stone upward in a jagged spike. Zephyr’s leg was grazed—just a scratch, but the crowd noticed.
"He landed a hit!"
"Zephyr’s bleeding!"
Up in the balcony, Lilith Starwind raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. "At least this isn’t boring."
Noah didn’t speak, but his hand was now resting unconsciously on the edge of his seat.
Even Logan narrowed his eyes.
Zephyr stumbled back, pressing a palm to his leg. His breathing remained steady, but the blood ran down his shin in a slow stream.
Rikan grinned. "Still think calm eyes win wars?"
Zephyr didn’t answer.
Instead, he raised both hands.
The air around him shifted.
It became sharp.
Focused.
His water magic didn’t ripple—it condensed.
The wind didn’t swirl—it formed a razor-thin edge.
He stepped forward.
And vanished.
No one in the gallery saw what happened.
All they heard was a loud CRACK—followed by a deep BOOM as Rikan was hurled backward across the stage, his axe flying from his grip.
Stone shattered where he landed.
The entire arena gasped.
Rikan groaned, tried to rise—
But a final surge of wind pinned him flat.
Zephyr stood in the center of the stage, water and wind circling his arms like tame serpents, expression as calm as ever.
He hadn’t said a single word during the entire match.
The referee waited a moment, then raised his hand.
"Winner—Zephyr Albrecht!"
The crowd exploded.
From the balcony, Alek Albrecht smiled faintly, arms crossed, as if nothing unexpected had happened.
In the betting zone, Albert sighed deeply. "A little more struggle would have earned me more money."
Back in the noble balcony, Lilith shrugged. "He’s good," she admitted. "Not better than me, though."
Rowan said nothing—but a single glance toward Zephyr told another story.
This wasn’t the kind of opponent you could underestimate.
And Logan?
He watched with interest, eyes narrowing—not in fear or envy, but curiosity.
He’s stronger than I expected, Logan thought.
As Zephyr left the stage without a word, he passed by Rikan’s crumpled form. He didn’t gloat. Didn’t even look back.
Just like Morgan.
Just like Logan.
Silent strength walked differently than pride.
And though the crowd began to turn toward the next match, the names of the last two victors still lingered in the whispers echoing through the arena:
Logan Smith.
Zephyr Albrecht.