Chapter 7: "High-Class" Action!

Kata's eyes flicker between Rylan and Lizen, his face betraying a mix of disdain and concern. He inhales deeply, attempting to suppress her emotions. With a subtle shift in his posture, he conveys a reluctant acceptance of the situation, his body language suggesting a begrudging agreement.

"As much as I despise him," Kata's voice carries a hint of venom, "you won't stand a chance. In fact, he might just kill you." His words hang in the air, dripping with a mixture of caution and disdain. He extends his hand in a dismissive gesture as if waving away any responsibility for what may transpire. "But," he adds with a resigned sigh, "it's not my decision. So go ahead, knock yourself out or whatever."

The tension in the arena mounts as the words hang in the air. The students on both sides exchange glances, their expressions a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The weight of the impending clash lingers, tangible and electric.

Gordon, positioned at the center of the battlefield, steps forward with purpose. His towering figure casts a long shadow, his presence commanding attention. He raises his greatsword high above his head, the gleaming blade catching the sunlight. The metallic ring echoes through the arena, a signal of the imminent clash.

"Well," Gordon's voice reverberates, amplified by the sheer force of his will, "I see we both have our teams." His words carry the weight of authority, punctuated by the silence that descends upon the battleground. The anticipation among the students intensifies, their breaths held in anticipation.

"Let's start," Gordon's voice booms, infused with a mixture of determination and authority. The ground beneath him seems to tremble, responding to the sheer force of his presence. As he lowers his greatsword, the collective intake of breath from the students heralds the beginning of the long-awaited clash.

Authors Note:

Class 1 Vs Class 4

Class 1: Class 4:

Kara Brandugold Gorden Upsur

Kata Brandugold Azurae Flourensire

Jayne Thaimine Luise Frand

Derik Rizer Drag Donovan

Lizen Ishakura Rylan Toler

Gorden charges at Kata with his greatsword held high, but Kata remains calm and effortlessly sidesteps the powerful yet predictable swing. This leaves Gorden off-balance and vulnerable to a counterattack. Seizing the opportunity, Kata conjures a flaming blade and swings it at Gorden, who narrowly evades the strike by using the blade as leverage to launch himself into the air.

Gordon charges forward with his greatsword held high, the sheer force of his attack shaking the ground beneath him. His eyes burn with determination as he aims to strike down Kata. However, Kata's calm demeanor remains unshaken. With a swift and graceful sidestep, he effortlessly evades the powerful yet predictable swing. Gordon's momentum carries him forward, leaving him off-balance and vulnerable to a counterattack.

Seizing the opportunity, Kata taps into her inner power, conjuring a flaming blade in her hand. The searing flames dance along the blade's edge, ready to unleash their destructive potential. With a fluid motion, he swings the fiery weapon toward Gordon, aiming to deliver a decisive blow. But Gordon, displaying agility unexpected for his size, reacts with lightning speed. He uses his greatsword as leverage, launching himself into the air, narrowly evading Kata's strike.

Meanwhile, Kara, fueled by determination and courage, dashes towards the formidable duo of Drag Donovan and Luise Frand. She summons a flaming spear, the weapon blazing with intensity in her hands. With a fierce throw, she hurls the spear towards her opponents, aiming to disrupt their advance. However, her attack is met with a sudden twist of fate.

A massive shield materializes in front of Drag, its surface morphing into a fluid-like substance that coats him, forming an impenetrable armor. Undeterred, Drag plants his feet firmly on the ground, his eyes fixed on Kara. He charges forward like a relentless bull, his sheer strength overpowering her defenses. Kara braces herself, trying to hold her ground, but the force of Drag's assault proves too formidable. She is sent flying backward, the impact reverberating through her body. Though she manages to land on her feet, Kara realizes that brute strength alone won't secure her victory against Drag.

In a moment of dire need, the battle takes an unexpected turn. Several blades are sent hurtling towards Kara, threatening to pierce her vulnerable form. But just as the deadly projectiles approach, an ice spike zips past her head, shattering the blades in mid-air. The spike crashes into Drag, sending him sprawling backward. Kara turns her gaze, finding Jayne standing there, her arm extended in a gesture of support.

"Two against one doesn't seem very fair, does it?" Jayne's voice carries a hint of mischief and determination. She stands tall, ready to offer her unwavering assistance in this tumultuous battle.

Meanwhile, the clash between Derik Rizer and Azurae Flourensire reaches a new crescendo. Azurae's draconic heritage comes to the fore, his scales shimmering with a luminescent glow. His movements become a blur of swiftness and grace as he relentlessly assaults Derik with a barrage of strikes, displaying no signs of fatigue.

Derik, ever resourceful, adapts to the escalating battle. Additional slime arms sprout from his body, forming a massive hand that looms above Azurae. With a thunderous crash, Derik slams the giant appendage down, aiming to crush his opponent. But Azurae, a master of agility, nimble steps back, evading the crushing blow with impeccable precision. However, Azurae's respite is short-lived.

In a stunning display of resilience, Derik reshapes his slime form, expanding his body to absorb Azurae's subsequent onslaught. He channels the force of his opponent's strikes, using them to fuel his own power. Azurae glances upward, his eyes meeting the formidable sight of Derik, poised to strike. A powerful fist crashes into him, the impact launching Azurae into the sky. For a moment, it seems as if Derik has gained the upper hand in their intense duel.

Yet, Azurae refuses to yield. Shaking off the pain, he takes a deep breath, his eyes narrowing with unyielding determination. He taps into the full extent of his draconic power, his entire body now pulsating with intense energy. The battlefield becomes awash with a vibrant glow as Azurae's true strength is unleashed.

A smirk forms on Derik's face, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he accepts the challenge presented by Azurae. His slime arms shift and transform, manifesting into an array of deadly weapons. He readies himself for the impending clash, fully aware of the magnitude of the battle about to unfold. A mutual respect lingers between the combatants, a recognition of the skill and determination that each possesses.

As the fight resumes, Azurae and Derik become a blur of motion, their strikes, and evasions merging into a mesmerizing display of skill and power. Azurae's newfound speed and strength collide with Derik's adaptive abilities, creating a spectacle that leaves their classmates in awe. Each blow lands with a resounding impact, testing the limits of their endurance and resilience.

In a critical moment, Azurae executes a cunning feint, drawing Derik's attention to the left. Seizing the opportunity, he darts to the right, delivering a powerful kick to Derik's exposed flank. The impact sends Derik crashing to the ground, his form temporarily incapacitated. But true to his nature, Derik's slime form begins to reform, his determination shining through as he rises once more.

The battle between Azurae and Derik reaches an unprecedented intensity, their clash a testament to their unwavering resolve. It becomes evident to all who witness the spectacle that these two formidable adversaries are willing to push themselves to their limits, their eyes locked in an unspoken agreement to give everything they have in their quest for victory.

As Rylan's aggression intensifies, driven by his desire to prove himself against the so-called "False Royal," Lizen's nonchalant ease in the face of Rylan's relentless attacks only serves to infuriate him further. With each evaded strike, Lizen's control and unwavering confidence become more apparent. He moves with a fluidity that defies conventional limits, effortlessly sidestepping Rylan's wild swings as if they were mere child's play. At times, Lizen even utilizes his teleportation ability, seemingly vanishing from Rylan's sights only to reappear moments later in a different location, leaving Rylan frustrated and fueling his determination to land a hit on his elusive opponent.

Throughout the intense exchange, Lizen's annoying and taunting remarks serve as a constant reminder of Rylan's inability to touch him. With a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, Lizen goads Rylan, his voice dripping with a cocky charm.

"Come on, Rylan put some effort into it!" Lizen taunts, his tone laced with amusement. "I'm starting to think your parents named you 'Missed-the-Mark' instead."

Rylan's face flushes with anger, his determination morphing into a seething rage. He swings his blade with all his might, hoping to catch Lizen off guard, but Lizen's relaxed posture belies his true skill. He sidesteps the strike with a simple twist of his body, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Lizen's voice, laced with condescension, cuts through the air like a knife. "You swing like a blindfolded toddler," he mocks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I've seen snails move faster than that."

Rylan's frustration mounts, his attacks growing more desperate and reckless. But Lizen remains calm and collected, effortlessly evading each strike, his relaxed posture taunting Rylan further.

Rylan's face flushes with anger, his grip on his blade tightening. He lunges at Lizen with a wild strike, only to be gracefully sidestepped once again.

"Wow, you really are persistent," Lizen remarks, a condescending smirk on his face. "But persistence alone won't make up for your lack of skill. Maybe you should consider a career change like flower arranging or something."

Rylan's frustration reaches its boiling point. He swings his blade with all his might, aiming to catch Lizen off guard, but Lizen effortlessly evades the strike and mockingly brushes a nonexistent speck of dust off his shoulder.

"You're going to have to do better than that, Rylan," Lizen taunts, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I thought you were supposed to be the academy's golden boy. At this rate, I might as well nap while you swing that sword around."

Rylan's patience wears thin, his determination morphing into a burning rage. Lizen's cockiness has become a constant thorn in his side, driving him to push himself to the absolute limit.

With a primal scream, Rylan launches himself at Lizen, swinging his blade with all his might. But Lizen, ever composed, sidesteps the strike effortlessly, almost as if he can predict Rylan's every move. The air whooshes past Rylan's blade, missing its intended target by inches.

A mix of disappointment, anger, and humiliation flashes across Rylan's face. His muscles ache from the strain, and his breathing ragged. He can feel the sweat-soaked fabric of his clothes cling to his skin, his whole body pulsating with fierce energy.

Rylan's face contorts with fury, his eyes narrowing as he readies himself for another assault. He charges at Lizen, his movements fueled by sheer determination and a burning desire to prove himself. But no matter how hard he tries, Lizen effortlessly sidesteps each strike, leaving Rylan swinging at thin air.

The audience watches with bated breath, caught in the intensity of the battle unfolding before them. They can almost taste Rylan's frustration, feel the heat radiating from his body, and sense the desperation in each swing of his sword. The air crackles with anticipation as if the clash between Rylan's anger and Lizen's confidence is a tangible force.

The battle between Rylan and Lizen becomes a showcase of their contrasting fighting styles, with Rylan's ferocious offense juxtaposed against Lizen's graceful defense. As the fight progresses, Lizen's annoying and taunting remarks served as a constant reminder of Rylan's inability to land a hit. It remains to be seen whether Lizen's restraint and empathy can overcome Rylan's fiery determination to prove his worth.

Rylan's patience wears thin, his face flushed with a mix of exertion and fury. With every evasion and mocking comment from Lizen, his determination intensifies. He can't allow himself to be defeated, not when the stakes are so high. The burning fire within him pushes him to push past his limits, to find a way to overcome the seemingly insurmountable challenge before him.

The battle continues, each swing of Rylan's blade accompanied by a surge of raw emotion. The clash of steel echoes through the arena, the air thick with tension. And as Rylan's anger fuels his every move, the onlookers can't help but be drawn into the maelstrom of emotions, feeling as if they too are part of the duel between these two formidable adversaries.

With fury coursing through my veins, every fiber of my being screams in outrage at Lizen's audacity. How dare he belittle me, mock me, and treat this fight as a mere game? This is a battle, a clash of wills, and I refuse to be his plaything any longer.

My voice erupts from within, strained and filled with righteous anger, as I unleash my pent-up frustration. "Cease your mockery, you insufferable charlatan!" I roar, my words slicing through the air with a force that demands attention. "I am Rylan Toler, scion of the mighty Toler Dynasty, and I will not allow you to disrespect me any longer!"

As the echoes of my proclamation ripple through the arena, time seems to warp, stretching the moment into eternity. The crowd hushes, their breaths held in anticipation, their gazes locked upon the spectacle unfolding before them. In this suspended moment, I feel a surge of power, a connection to something greater, as if the very fabric of reality bends to my will.

My muscles coil, ready to strike once more, but the world shifts with an uncanny swiftness. Lizen, that infuriating enigma, vanishes from my sight, only to reappear in a fraction of a heartbeat. A searing pain explodes beside my jaw, an electric jolt that rattles my senses and sends me hurtling toward the unforgiving ground.