Chapter 50 — The Tournament’s Deadliest

The Royal Grand Tournament had already shocked the kingdom with duels of legendary intensity, yet the arena still held its breath. Rumors had spread: a new challenger was arriving, one whose reputation rivaled even Vorath and Lysander combined.

The gates creaked open slowly, and a towering figure stepped forward. Clad in dark armor adorned with crimson markings, his aura radiated danger. His movements were swift and precise, a perfect blend of brute strength, lightning speed, and calculated strategy. The crowd gasped, recognizing the insignia on his chest: Kaelric “Bloodfang,” the fourth-ranked colosseum legend.

Kaelen’s golden eyes narrowed under his hood. Kaelric… this is not a fighter who relies on one skill. He combines everything: power, speed, deception. Aric will face a challenge unlike any before.

Aric’s heart pounded, his grip tightening on his sword. This is the true test… everything Master Kaelen has taught me will be needed.

Kaelric’s voice echoed across the arena, calm yet commanding. “I’ve heard whispers of the prince trained by the Mirrorblade. Let us see if the stories are true.”

Aric raised his sword, calm but alert. “I will show you that skill and strategy can overcome raw power.”

The duel began explosively. Kaelric charged with a devastating swing, Aric barely blocking, sparks flying with every clash. His strikes were heavier than Vorath’s, faster than Lysander’s, and executed with ruthless precision. Every move seemed designed to overwhelm and confuse, a perfect combination of the greatest fighters Kaelen had ever faced.

Kaelen watched intently, analyzing the duel. Aric must apply prediction, rhythm, adaptation… everything. There is no margin for error against this level.

Aric moved fluidly, dodging, countering, and predicting. He remembered Kaelen’s lessons: read intention, exploit openings, flow with the battle. Every feint, every strike, every micro-pause in Kaelric’s movements was a clue, a rhythm to follow and control.

The crowd was on edge, witnessing the sheer spectacle. Sparks, dust, and steel filled the arena as the two combatants clashed relentlessly. Each strike tested Aric’s limits, pushing him to anticipate multiple layers of attack simultaneously.

Kaelric smirked, his eyes gleaming. “Impressive… you anticipate, you flow, but can you endure until the end? Most fall before they master all aspects.”

Aric’s mind raced, analyzing patterns, predicting combinations, and maintaining control. He was no longer just following Kaelen’s teachings—he was synthesizing them, adapting to create his own strategy in real-time.

The duel escalated, reaching a fever pitch. Kaelric’s strikes grew more unpredictable, blending power, speed, and deception. Yet Aric remained steady, his movements precise, his mind calm. The prince’s mastery of rhythm and adaptation allowed him to counter, parry, and strike with calculated efficiency.

Kaelen’s eyes glimmered with pride. This is the true test. The prince is no longer just learning—he is evolving. If he can survive this duel, he will be ready for any challenge the kingdom, or the world, may throw at him.

The arena held its breath, knowing this clash was more than a duel—it was a battle of skill, will, and mastery. Aric’s next moves would define his place in the Royal Grand Tournament and the legacy he was beginning to build under the guidance of the Mirrorblade.