Combat Class: Duel of Two Young Monsters

"Go easy on me, Drekaron!" A wide grin stretched across Arian’s face as he stood at the center of the arena, eyes locked on his friend.

"I should be the one telling you that! Just don’t go crazy again!" Their laughter rang out, echoing across the whole place.

"Alright, enough of this nonsense. Get to your match already, let’s see what you’ve got!" Abraham’s brows were knitted tight; he had no patience for their antics.

"So, Arian, which element are you using today?" Drekaron asked eagerly, watching as Arian raised his guard.

"You know what? I think it’d be better if we both went with fire!" A flicker of blue flame danced and swirled between Arian’s fingers.

“You asked for it!” Drekaron’s hands shimmered with white scales as his roaring red flames radiated a wave of heat.

For a brief moment, both of them simply displayed their power. Arian’s blue flames flowed gently and flexibly, burning nothing around his hands. On the other side, Drekaron’s red blaze turned the ground around him crimson—and if his battle suit hadn’t been special, it would have been reduced to ashes long ago.

Neither of their eyes showed any hint of hesitation as the fight began. “Aaah…” The duel erupted, and everyone watched eagerly, from Abraham to the other students, craving a display of their strength.

A red-fisted punch flew toward Arian’s face. Flames danced in his eyes as he tilted his head, narrowly dodging it. In response, he sent a punch toward Drekaron’s ribs—but there was no reaction from him. Instead, blood erupted from Arian’s fist, running from his palm up to his elbow.

Drekaron kicked Arian square in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. A faint smirk appeared on Arian’s dusty, bloodied face. He got to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes with his hands.

From across the arena, one of the boys shouted, “Hit him harder, Drekaron!” It was the same boy whose nose Arian had broken back in the forest.

This time, Arian took the offensive. Punch after punch—left, right, left—he hammered against Drekaron’s solid guard, pushing him back step by step. Now his entire face was covered in white scales, and his pupils had turned vertical.

Arian’s blue flames seared the blood from his hands, forming a red-tinged mist around them. “Come on, Drekaron, attack already!”

“You really turn into a monster when you fight, Arian! But don’t underestimate me!”

A heavy punch broke through Arian’s guard and slammed into his face, throwing him into a corner. Drekaron’s fist felt as solid as stone.

The crowd fell silent, even Abraham. Some third-year students in uniform stood beside Arian’s group, all frozen in disbelief. This wasn’t a typical first-year duel—it was a battle between two newly born monsters.

Dust swirled from Arian’s fall, yet, contrary to expectation, he was on his feet. Both were panting heavily. Drekaron now looked more like a dragon, though his wings had yet to appear. Arian, unlike his fight with Martin, wasn’t calm this time—he was thirsty for battle.

Abraham’s devilish laugh echoed, revealing his sheer enjoyment. “This is a real fight!”

On the other side of the arena, Laina bit her nails nervously. “There goes Maro, and now these two…”

Leo’s eyes flickered with curiosity. “I’ve got a question… Drekaron’s upper body has transformed, but why doesn’t he have wings? And his scales are so white!”

A new voice cut through the murmurs, and everyone turned toward the third-year student standing beside them. A strikingly beautiful girl, capable of stealing anyone’s attention, with black eyes and wavy brown hair, spoke:
“That idiot is the most extraordinary dragon… and at the same time, the most miserable one.”

“Excuse me, but you shouldn’t insult our friends,” Leo said politely, addressing the young girl.

“Well, first of all, the strong have the right to insult the weak. And secondly… that idiot brother of mine has a friend now?”

“Wait, did you just say brother?! So… you’re Larosa, Drekaron’s older sister?” Laina’s eyes widened, forgetting the entire battle as she stared at the girl.

"Yes, I’m Larosa." A sly grin curled on her lips as she stared at the battlefield. “For now, everyone stay quiet. I need to see how much my brother has improved!”

On the battlefield, Arian’s hands trembled. It seemed that Drekaron’s last punch hadn’t just scorched his skin—it had nearly broken his bones.

“Hey, Drekaron, is that all you’ve got? Just breaking a few bones?!” Arian’s eyes were locked on the blue flames in his hands, devouring Drekaron’s fire.

“Heh… what’s this flame, buddy? Why won’t it go out?” Drekaron looked at his hand trapped between the two flames. Both fires were slowly dying out, as neither fighter had any mana left to control them.

A murmur spread among the students. If Arian was just a booster, how could he even use a spell? Even Abraham and Larosa exchanged thoughtful glances at the question.

The ground of the arena had been scorched, and no flames remained to burn it further. On the surface, the battle seemed over—but Drekaron was on his hands and feet, mouth wide open, as fire coalesced inside it, forming a swirling red orb. This was the young dragon’s final attack.

The fiery sphere shot forward, trailing gusts of wind behind it. Everyone instinctively pulled back to avoid its impact, yet only Abraham, Larosa, and Cyron—who was tightly holding Shadowlf—kept their eyes fixed on Arian.

“Oh boy… what is this?!” Arian stood in front of the incoming flame, yet time seemed to slow just for him. The glove he always carried had torn through the pocket of his armor and hovered right before his eyes.

“Why now… why does the glove have to show itself?” Arian’s uninjured hand reached toward the glove, sliding into the black form as if it had been waiting for him.

Boommm!

Everyone froze in shock. Drekaron lay sprawled on the ground, while Arian stood firm on the other side. His arm stretched out like a branch in front of his body, his clothes completely gone—only the black glove remained.

Eyes widened in disbelief. Arian had survived the explosion, though his entire body was burned, and he was unconscious.

Abraham stood above the two, looking down at Drekaron’s torn form and Arian’s charred body, a smile playing on his lips as if secret plans were unfolding in his mind.

Across the arena, Larosa shook her head, a soft smile on her lips, and quietly left the battlefield with her companion.

The fight was over—but it had ended inconclusively. Both monsters lay dormant.