No More Pain For This Villain. - #245 - 245 Duels!

Gelgar, with his towering build and confident demeanor, took his position on the stage. His greatsword, crafted from a

Mythril glistened under the arena’s light, emanating an ethereal blue sheen. As a three-star warrior, Gelgar exuded an air of experience, though his recent defeat still lingered in his mind.

On the other side, Ren stood quietly, igniting three white rings around his iris—an indication of the mana strengthening coursing through his body. But unlike Gelgar’s expectation, Ren appeared unperturbed, an aura of tranquility surrounding him.

Gelgar, haunted by his recent loss to a girl from his class, sought redemption in strength. His determination overshadowed any hesitation, pushing him to prove himself beyond his current capabilities. He knew his potential, given his lineage, and was driven to surpass the three-star ranking.

Eager to start the battle, Gelgar channeled his mana into his massive greatsword, readying himself for the clash. His swift charge toward Ren prompted murmurs and impatience from the audience, some even voicing discontent at the delay.

Observing Ren’s seemingly unprepared stance, Gelgar felt confident in securing an effortless victory. He braced himself for the decisive strike, focusing on aiming his colossal sword at Ren’s exposed neck.

Tension surged among the professors overseeing the duel, their vigilance escalating as Gelgar’s blade threatened Ren’s vulnerable position. Professor Devereaux, ready to intervene if the situation escalated, held a floating shard of rock behind her—a precautionary measure in case the battle spiraled out of control.

Yet, defying expectations, Ren leaned back slightly, narrowly evading the fatal blow. The greatsword grazed past his throat, missing its intended target by a hair’s breadth.

Unexpectedly, in a swift and calculated move, Ren countered. With precise timing and accuracy, his left fist struck Gelgar’s windpipe.

A faint “Tud*” echoed in the arena, overshadowed by the suddenness of the strike. Gelgar’s eyes rolled upward, a pained gasp escaping his lips. His massive frame knelt as the greatsword clattered to the ground, its metallic echo ringing in the stunned silence.

Gasps resonated throughout the arena, shattering the stillness that followed the abrupt strike. Gelgar, now on his knees, struggled to draw breath, his windpipe incapacitated by Ren’s precise and unexpected counter.

Amidst the stunned silence, the professors, caught off guard by the swift turn of events, hurriedly climbed onto the stage. One of them rushed to Gelgar’s side, channeling healing energy to ease his breathing, while another approached Ren with a cautious hand outstretched, as if to ward off any further actions.

Ren, maintaining his calm demeanor, observed the professors’ reactions. His collected presence and unassuming stance contrasted sharply with the tense atmosphere that enveloped the arena. As the professor’s hand hovered protectively towards Gelgar, there was an inexplicable moment where it seemed like they were extending their hand to shield Gelgar from Ren’s potential threat.

However, as if emerging from a trance, the professor swiftly retracted their hand, realizing the misinterpretation of the situation. Ren, still composed, showed no signs of aggression or malice.

The audience, now abuzz with murmurs and speculation, was gripped by an eerie tension. The unexpected turn of events had shifted the atmosphere, evoking a sense of unease akin to witnessing an unexpected outcome, one that didn’t align with the usual heroic narrative of a duel’s resolution.

Gelgar, now stabilized but still recovering, received the healing assistance from the professors. Despite the intervention and Ren’s non-threatening demeanor, there lingered an air of uncertainty, a subtle tension hanging in the arena, reminiscent of the aftermath of an unconventional victory that defied the expected norms.

“Ren Hilton, won!” The resounding announcement echoed through the arena as Ren gracefully descended from the stage, his movements betraying no hint of the intense battle that had just unfolded.

Among the group of second years, Adam Stales, with an expression alternating between surprise and incredulity, turned to the girl standing beside him.

“Mary… is he that strong?” His voice carried a hint of disbelief, his gaze fixed on Ren as he made his way down and settled beside a scrawny bespectacled lad.

Mary’s eyes remained fixed on Ren, observing his every move. Her thoughts buzzed with a cacophony of conflicting emotions. Ren, the same guy who had incessantly followed her, serenading her with unwavering affection, was now a puzzle to her.

…what had happened to him?

The question reverberated within her mind. Was it the result of that mysterious trip? Or had something changed when he arrived at the Academy? Her mind revisited the scene where Ren effortlessly pushed back Adam—the strongest second year—but she had attributed it to Adam’s lack of mana control.

But this victory, this unanticipated triumph over Gelgar, left her grappling with a reality that seemed both unfamiliar and yet oddly recognizable.

“I don’t… know,” Mary replied, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Her eyes flickered, betraying the weight that settled upon her heart, an inexplicable heaviness that made breathing feel laborious.

Would Ren secure a spot if he continued at this pace?

In that moment, her gaze met Adam’s, his eyes still fixed on her. “We must get selected,” she asserted, a faint hint of determination in her tone.

Adam chuckled softly at her fervor. “You bet,” he affirmed, mirroring her resolve.

And then there was another girl who sighed with relief but had a small smile on her face. Raven knew who Gelgar was—why wouldn’t she? He’s the heir of his own small tribe. But she was worried. She knew that it’s not possible for him to defeat Ren.

She doesn’t know how and why she believed in Ren. Well, there’s a reason, but at that time, his opponents were weak. But this time, it wasn’t the same.

She hasn’t spoken to Ren for two days. Why? She just felt like pouting.

But seeing him winning made her genuinely happy. Maybe she’ll go meet him after this and—

‘I’ll ask about why he hasn’t met me, yes! I will!’ She was sure of that. She was going to talk but would make sure to complete her ranting first.

Amidst the commotion, a voice whispered behind Raven, “It’s your turn, Raven.”

Startled, she turned to find a fellow student signaling her toward the stage. Her heart raced with a mix of nervous excitement and determination.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Raven hurried toward the stage, her steps quick and purposeful. Pausing momentarily, she glanced over her inventory, swiftly selecting a gleaming mithril sword before striding onto the stage.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Raven tightened her grip on the sword, her eyes scanning the waiting arena.

“Raven’s up next!” echoed a voice from the stage, drawing the attention of the audience.

“I can do this,” Raven muttered to herself, the determination evident in her voice. With a resolute nod, she faced forward, ready to take on the challenge.

Raven’s eyes locked onto the silver pair gazing back at her—the girl standing opposite her swiftly drew a sword from her scabbard, her silver hair neatly tied in a ponytail. She wore a cobalt blue tunic, complemented by sleek black leggings, exuding an air of unwavering focus.

The girl’s countenance remained stoic, devoid of any discernible emotion.

“Raven Larkspur and Mary Kleine! Duel start!!” boomed the announcement, setting off a cacophony of cheers and excitement among the audience.

With a steady grip on her mithril sword, Raven braced herself for the challenge that lay ahead. Her heart raced with anticipation, a blend of nervousness and determination coursing through her veins.

As the cheers reverberated around the arena, Raven and Mary stood poised, their eyes locked in silent determination, ready to engage in the upcoming duel. The tension in the air crackled, signaling the beginning of an intense confrontation between the two opponents.

[Ren Hilton’s POV]

As I lounged on the ground, observing Raven’s poised stance on the stage with her blade positioned against Mary, a sudden craving for a snack struck me.

“Hey, got anything to eat?” I casually inquired from Erik, who swiftly produced a pack of salted peanuts from his pocket—always prepared, that guy.

While munching on the nuts, a familiar voice resonated behind me. I turned to find Blaze making his way toward me.

‘Not resting?’ I queried, a hint of amusement in my tone.

‘Who’d want to miss such an entertaining match?’ Blaze retorted, a sentiment I couldn’t disagree with.

Curious about Erik’s take on the ongoing duel, I turned back to him. “Who do you think will win?”

“I-I think… Senior Larkspur,” Erik stammered, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“Want to bet?” I proposed, throwing a playful challenge his way. “I’m putting my stake on Mary.”

Erik hesitated, contemplating the wager. “What’s the stake?”

“Let’s make it interesting—how about a gold coin if you win?” I suggested, teasing him a bit with the offer.

“A gold coin! That’s crazy! I don’t—” Erik started, but I interjected before he could finish his protest.

“Relax. If I win, just get me a bunch of chewing gums,” I bargained, trying to ease the stakes.

He hesitated briefly before agreeing, “Is that enough… like a gold coin—”

“Yeah, it’s fair,” I waved off his concerns, redirecting his focus back to the stage.