Chapter 42 — Aric vs Serik: The First Clash

The arena trembled as Serik “Dragon Fist” advanced, each step resonating like the drumbeat of war. His massive blade gleamed in the sunlight, a weapon honed through decades of battle and unmatched skill. The crowd held its breath; even the royal knights exchanged uneasy glances.

Aric gripped his sword tighter, chest rising and falling with anticipation. Every lesson from Kaelen surged through his mind: observation, adaptation, rhythm, prediction. But this—this was different. Serik’s presence radiated raw power, each movement steeped in experience and deadly precision.

Kaelen stood at the sidelines, hooded and calm, golden eyes unwavering. This is the moment Aric must truly test himself. Every strike, every decision, every feint is a lesson. Let him fight, and let him grow.

The duel began with a thunderous clash. Serik’s massive blade descended with the force of a battering ram. Aric barely deflected it, sparks flying, and rolled to the side, avoiding the follow-up swing aimed at his midsection. The force alone would have felled many, but Aric’s agility and observation allowed him to survive.

“You move well… for a young prince,” Serik growled, eyes blazing. “But can you withstand my technique?”

Aric’s mind raced. He could see the rhythm in Serik’s swings—the slight pause before a thrust, the weight shift before a horizontal sweep. He anticipated the next attack, parrying just in time, countering with a precise strike aimed at Serik’s guard.

The crowd erupted, astonished at the prince’s composure. Sparks flew as steel clashed repeatedly, each strike a testament to training, strategy, and raw talent.

Kaelen’s voice echoed silently in Aric’s mind: Adapt, do not mimic blindly. Observe, predict, and use the rhythm against him.

Aric adjusted his stance, feigning a strike to Serik’s left while preparing a precise counter on the right. Serik’s eyes flicked in surprise—unexpected, but not impossible. Aric’s movements flowed seamlessly, blending offense and defense, anticipating Serik’s every maneuver.

The legendary fighter smiled, a glint of respect in his eyes. “You’ve learned much… but the real test is yet to come.”

Serik unleashed a series of rapid, brutal strikes—a combination of speed, power, and unpredictability. Aric moved with the rhythm of the duel, using every instinct Kaelen had instilled in him. He dodged, blocked, and countered, exploiting tiny openings in Serik’s pattern.

Finally, Aric saw the opening—a slight overextension in Serik’s swing. He struck with precision, forcing Serik to retreat a step, his massive blade meeting Aric’s steel in a clash that shook the arena. The crowd roared, witnessing the young prince stand toe-to-toe with a living legend.

Kaelen’s golden eyes softened with approval. He is learning, adapting… becoming more than just a student. He is beginning to become a true swordsman.

The first clash ended without a decisive victor, but the tension remained thick. Both fighters stepped back, breathing heavily, eyes locked in mutual respect and challenge. This duel was more than a contest—it was a meeting of experience and potential, a test of growth, strategy, and heart.

Princess Lysandra’s gaze shone with pride, watching as Aric faced a legend not with fear, but with skill and determination. The Royal Grand Tournament had escalated to a new level, and the battles ahead promised to test every limit the young prince possessed.