The Clash of Fangs

The royal banquet hall shook with anticipation as the clone of the First King stood silently in the center of the arena. His eyes, cold and merciless, scanned the challengers before him. Ten participants had been chosen to test their strength against him. The crowd whispered in excitement, nobles and soldiers alike eager to witness history repeat itself.

The king raised his hand.
“Begin.”

Nine of the participants charged forward at once, their weapons blazing with light, fire, and steel. Spells illuminated the hall like fireworks, blades sang with killing intent, and the air trembled under their combined assault.

Leo, however, remained where he stood, arms crossed. His eyes narrowed as he muttered, “Hmph… if this level of attack could even touch me, then I would have died before ever meeting the Twelve Beasts.” His words were low, but they carried an undeniable weight of truth.

With a single motion, the clone of the First King raised his sword. He swung once—calm, effortless, almost dismissive.

And in that instant, every attack vanished.
Spells unraveled into smoke. Swords shattered against thin air. The arena, once deafened by chaos, fell into chilling silence.

Gasps echoed from the nobles. Some participants stumbled back in shock, trembling.

One of them cried out desperately, “What… what kind of monster is this?! Our strongest attacks—nothing!”

Another spat in frustration, “Is this… truly just ten percent of his strength?!”

Leo chuckled darkly, a cruel grin tugging at his lips. “Yes… now you understand. That man is the shadow of what I once was.”

The nine participants, though shaken, refused to give up. A spear-wielder rushed forward, shouting, “We will not yield so easily!” His weapon spun in a whirlwind as he lunged at the clone.

The First King’s clone tilted his head slightly, almost bored. He raised his sword again, unleashing a Lion’s Fang – Roar of Dominion.
The sheer pressure of the strike blasted the spear-wielder off his feet, sending him crashing into the marble floor, unconscious.

A female mage screamed, casting a defensive barrier of light. “Stand together! We can overwhelm him if we—”
But her words cut short as the clone used Serpent Fang – Binding Coil, twisting his blade in a spiral motion. Her barrier cracked like glass, and she was thrown across the hall.

One by one, the participants were dismantled—
Wolf Fang.
Falcon Fang.
Tiger Fang.
Each Fang of Rome unleashed mercilessly, echoing the battlefields of a thousand years ago.

The audience could only watch, stunned and terrified.

And then—

Noah moved.

He had stood silently until now, watching with unshaken eyes. Finally, he stepped forward, his hand tightening around his sword. The moment he advanced, the clone of the First King stopped attacking, as if acknowledging a true opponent at last.

Leo’s gaze sharpened. For the first time, his lips parted in amusement.
“…So, you finally decided to enter the stage.”

Noah raised his blade and took his stance.

The stance was familiar—too familiar.

When Noah struck, his movements were not reckless or desperate like the others. They were precise. Ruthless. Carved from tradition.

Leo’s eyes widened, and for a fleeting moment, the hall blurred into his past.
That sword technique—he knew it better than anyone.

Wolf Fang – Lunar Hunt.

The clone met Noah’s blade, and sparks erupted as steel clashed against steel.

Leo laughed, a rare fire igniting in his cold, emotionless eyes.
“Hah… so the boy carries my Fangs.” His voice dropped into a whisper only he could hear.
“It seems… I must meet him. The one chosen to inherit my legacy.”

And then—

Ding!

A faint translucent screen flickered before Leo’s eyes, unseen by others.

【 System Mission: Meet the lone survivor of the Twelve Fangs of Rome. 】

Leo’s smile deepened as Noah’s gaze flickered toward him mid-battle. Their eyes locked, as though destiny itself had pulled them together.

The clash of swords roared louder, echoing not just in the banquet hall—but across time itself.