Fight, Cold look, Death

Kizaer, feeling somewhat embarrassed, lowered his hands and stood there, looking at Arthur.

Arthur, in turn, maintained his combat stance and a serious focus during that moment.

Ciona slapped her hand to her face and muttered to herself, "By the gods, Kizaer… Why do you always do this kind of thing?" Some students around Ciona were a bit confused by what the girl had said.

Arthur furrowed his brow but kept his composure. 'This kid must be trying to catch me off guard, but I always take every fight seriously.' Arthur locked eyes with Kizaer and said, "You'd better take this fight seriously; we're not here to play games. And I won't fall for your cheap tricks." Arthur took a deep breath, filling his lungs, and prepared to advance against Kizaer.

Kizaer, with his relaxed posture, maintained eye contact with Arthur. "Take this fight seriously?" Kizaer replied briefly, "Alright, a serious fight it is." Suddenly, Kizaer's expression changed completely.

His previously calm and relaxed demeanour was replaced by a rigid body and an intense gaze.

The abrupt shift in Kizaer's expression caught the sharp eyes of Professor Lin.

Such drastic changes weren't common, regardless of how much combat training a child had. After all, combat training was just that—training. Only someone who had been through a certain number of real fights where life was at stake could have such a cold and detached look as Kizaer demonstrated.

Ciona's body hair stood on end. The reason Ciona's arms and legs were so calloused was due to the secret training sessions she had with Kizaer. And better than anyone else there, Ciona knew exactly how Kizaer transformed completely when it came to fighting seriously.

A striking and eerie courtesy from those training sessions was the day Kizaer left her unconscious for an entire day when she asked him, "I want to know what a real fight is like."

Arthur sensed the absurd change in Kizaer, but due to his lack of experience outside the controlled environments of his family, he could only discern that perhaps Kizaer had become irritated by something he said or he was displeasured because Arthur didn't fell for his tricks.

Arthur exhaled the air he had just filled his lungs with and seized the moment to make an quick advance toward Kizaer.

Arthur's footwork demonstrated an elusive technique that, when used against unsuspecting opponents, could create fatal openings in their defences.

The price his opponent would pay for not taking Arthur's footwork seriously would be attacked blows to critical areas.

Kizaer followed Arthur with his eyes; Arthur's figure gave no indication of where the strike would come from. The observing students, at least most of them, were puzzled by Arthur's strange movements and tried to deduce how he would strike Kizaer.

Would it be a punch, a kick, a flying kick, a spinning kick, a headbutt, an elbow strike, a knee strike? The answer didn't take long to come.

Arthur closed the gap to less than a meter from Kizaer with his astonishing footwork and threw a punch from an odd angle that would be difficult to evade.

Before Arthur's right fist could advance another centimetre, it was stopped in mid-flight by Kizaer's left hand.

*Pah!*—A dry, sharp sound echoed, but before Arthur could react, his right hand sent extreme signals of excruciating pain to his brain.

*Crack*—Kizaer's left hand squeezed Arthur's right fist with such force that the sound of bones breaking apart could be heard as part of Kizaer's fingers pierced the back of Arthur's hand.

Before Arthur could even scream, his body lost all strength, and he collapsed uncontrollably onto his own knees.

However, something even more terrifying was about to unfold.

Before Arthur's knees could even touch the ground and a scream of pain echoed across the platform, Kizaer's right knee exploded toward Arthur's trachea with immense force.

The heavy blow would undoubtedly fracture Arthur's windpipe and neck, ending the boy's life in a brutal manner.

At that instant, time seemed to freeze. A dark chill settled in the hearts of those who witnessed the scene, except for two individuals: Professor Lin and Ciona.

Before the gathered students could experience witnessing someone being killed before their eyes for the first time, Professor Lin materialized like a spectre between Kizaer and Arthur. He used the full palm of his hand to stop Kizaer's strike.

As Kizaer realized that his blow had missed its mark due to another person's intervention, his cold, empathy-devoid gaze shifted from Professor Lin's hands, which had halted his attack, to the professor's unwavering eyes.

The eye contact lingered for a profound 3 seconds before the innocent, relaxed gleam returned to Kizaer's eyes.

What made it even more chilling was that despite the apparent duration, the entire interaction—from Kizaer's transformation to Professor Lin's intervention—had taken less than 6 seconds!

Kizaer, who had returned to his usual state, took a small step back and awkwardly said, "Oh, Professor Lin… Did I do something wrong? Haha." Kizaer scratched his head, embarrassed by the possibility of having messed up, while maintaining a silly and sheepish smile. "I didn't mean any harm; I just responded to that boy's attack. I didn't even retaliate, Professor!"

"!!!"—Professor Lin's eyebrows shot up in astonishment.

"You didn't retaliate your opponent attack?" Professor Lin inquired, surprised. "No, I merely defended myself and let my body act on its own," Kizaer replied.

Professor Lin furrowed his brow and thought to himself, 'Didn't attack and let the body act on its own? Does that mean this counterattack was an act of pure reflex rather than a deliberate decision?'

Professor Lin had experienced real combat throughout his life, and he knew that it wasn't uncommon for some fighters to react and respond to certain situations instinctively or purely through reflex.

A thought crossed Professor Lin's mind. 'If what this kid says is true, then I need to inform Marcus about what happened. Surely that old violent man must be subjecting this boy to brutal and inhumane training conditions.'

Like many other fighters in the Path of Rest city, Professor Lin was familiar with Kizaer's grandfather. They knew well how violent he could be and the brutal fighting style he had demonstrated in rare past situations.

Professor Lin wasn't pleased with how the conversation had unfolded. After all, a student who attacks, defends, and strikes reflexively or instinctively won't control the force of their blows or care about avoiding vital areas.

"Alright, you may return to your place. Arthur, go to the infirmary where they'll treat your fracture. The next pair should step to the center of the platform, greet each other, and begin the fight."

Internally disturbed, Professor Lin refrained from showing any outward signs to prevent the students from becoming nervous about everything that had transpired.

As a supervisor from the perimeter accompanied Arthur to the infirmary, Kizaer returned to his place, under the wary glances from his classmates.

Ciona approached Kizaer unnoticed by anyone and whispered to him, "Kizaer, what were you thinking? You almost killed that boy!"

Kizaer replied, somewhat disheartened, "But Ciona, I didn't mean any harm, you know that! Sometimes my body acts on its own." Kizaer protested to his friend. "And it was Arthur who said that fight was serious, not me!"

Ciona locked eyes with Kizaer's emerald gaze and said, "Kizaer, what Arthur meant is that you should stop making silly faces and try to engage in conversation. He must had thought you were trying to make him go easy on you. Both of you were in combat training, and the least respect you could show toward Arthur would be not to make silly faces and wave your hands."

"And another thing; don't forget that ALL the fights we'll have with our classmates are always TRAINING fights, not serious battles. Try not to forget that, bedwetter." Ciona admonished Kizaer, who simply nodded while looking embarrassed at the ground.

Ciona knew that the concept of combat training and serious fights still confused Kizaer.

The only thing she could attribute this confusion to was the absurd training sessions Kizaer's grandfather forced him to participate in.

As two other students in the center of the arena greeted each other and began their fight, Professor Lin observed the interaction between the pair of friends and thought to himself, 'Indeed, he's just a kid. The display of shame for having "made a mistake" and the uncertainty about how to act are real. Damn crazy old man, what have you been teaching this kid?'