After confirming that Alex had practically fallen into a trance, Ludger turned his gaze back toward the dueling arena where the fight was still raging.
The sounds of the clash were growing louder.
In addition to his spear and javelin, Phantos had begun to fully utilize his anchor chains, and the grinding of metal echoed in every direction.
Clang-rattle.
Black chains swung through the air, tearing it apart. They were undeniably menacing.
It wasn’t a weapon an ordinary knight could wield, yet Phantos hurled it single-handedly with brutish strength.
At this point, it was less a chain and more of a whip.
Just then, the end of the chain slammed into the ground where Passius had been standing.
The entire arena rumbled, and a cloud of dust shot high into the air.
Passius retreated through the smoke.
He’d determined it was dangerous to try and deflect the strike and wisely chose to evade it.
As the dust cloud had yet to settle, a tunnel-like hole split through the center—and Phantos burst out of it.
At the same time, the right arm holding his spear blurred out of sight.
Thump-thump-thump.
A triple thrust shot out again in rapid succession.
In that instant, Passius’s upper body appeared to split into three parts.
It was an illusion caused by how fast he moved.
Dodging each strike by the width of a sheet of paper, Passius’s leg shot upward, aiming a vertical kick toward Phantos’s chin.
Phantos blocked it with his left forearm and swung the shaft of his embedded spear toward Passius’s temple.
Tap.
Passius blocked the strike with the pommel of his sword.
Intercepting the blow mid-swing, before it could fully gain force, using precise swordplay.
In an instant, Phantos’s rhythm was broken.
Seizing that moment, Passius reversed his grip on the sword and spun swiftly on the spot.
Phantos raised his left arm vertically. Black chains were tightly wound around his forearm.
Clang-clang-clang!
Sparks burst from the air, illuminating their faces in a reddish glow.
Phantos and Passius.
The two of them were grinning like they were genuinely enjoying themselves.
‘They’re both fired up now.’
Ludger could clearly see the difference between Passius and Phantos.
In terms of overall physical prowess, Phantos had the edge.
Passius was also a Master-level knight, and thus far beyond ordinary humans in sheer physical ability—but Phantos surpassed even that.
A beastkin whose race already had superior physical traits—and even among them, he was gifted with the finest talent.
His strength was naturally overwhelming, and so was his speed.
‘There’s a common misconception that bigger bodies are slower, but the explosive energy from muscles is actually greater.’
For long-distance running, it might be a different story, but in close-quarters combat where burst movement mattered, muscle strength always took priority.
Power and speed—Phantos held the advantage in both.
And yet, Passius was holding his ground against him evenly.
How was that possible?
‘Because Passius’s skill is far more refined.’
Not a single one of Passius’s movements was wasteful.
At every moment, he parried, dodged, or blocked Phantos’s attacks with just the right amount of power and technique.
‘His movements are even more restrained than they were in the underground chamber.’
It wasn’t just Ludger’s imagination.
Passius had become even stronger after the fight in the underground.
A Master-level knight is often said to be a complete being.
Once someone reaches that stage, most no longer yearn for the next level—they simply stop.
They’re already strong.
It’s enough.
Even if they want to improve further, their body’s threshold has risen so high that ordinary battles don’t provide the stimulus needed to grow.
It’s harder to raise your score from 80 to 90 than it is from 0 to 80.
But what if a Master-level knight is given the right environment and opportunity?
What if they’re placed in an extreme situation where they begin to yearn for growth once more?
‘That’s what this is.’
Passius had found himself facing that very wall.
Most people never even perceive it. To see it at all was already a major breakthrough.
Even if he didn’t manage to overcome it, the fact that he stood before it meant he had seen a glimpse of ‘possibility.’
‘And he didn’t let that possibility remain an illusion.’
Zzztt.
With movements even more controlled, Passius pushed Phantos back.
His sword slashed through the air as fast as lightning, yet sometimes surged like a storm and sometimes flowed like water.
It was during his battle with Luypholdt that Passius had realized it.
That fighting solely with brute force no longer held meaning.
That there existed beings in the world far stronger than himself.
Take Commander Lutus Wardot, for example.
So he changed his mindset.
He chose to regain the perspective of a challenger, looking upward from below.
What mattered was his attitude.
The moment he accepted that insight, the sword that was Passius became sharper than ever before.
And even now, as he clashed with Phantos—
Passius was continuing to be forged like iron being hammered into shape.
The same was true for Phantos.
The two stood rooted like anchors, exchanging blow after blow.
Their resolve to not retreat even a single step was made painfully clear.
With every collision of their weapons, the ground beneath them split apart, hurling fragments into the air.
A raging storm swirled in all directions.
In the escalating intensity of the atmosphere, Ludger saw two flames growing stronger.
‘They’re both nearing completion.’
The more they fought—
Like dulled, rusted steel being polished and sharpened—
They changed, moving toward the next stage.
Passius’s sword grew faster and sharper.
Phantos’s spear and chain became more precise.
The two parted again.
Neither initiated it—it happened simultaneously.
Phantos’s appearance had changed drastically from when the fight began.
Ssssshhk.
White steam rose from his body.
Each breath in and out caused the muscles of his entire frame to pulse explosively.
The fat that had once clung to his muscles had long since burned away during the fight.
A testament to how far he had pushed himself in his duel with Passius.
Passius also let out the breath he had been holding.
Sweat trickled down his brow.
Even for a Master-level knight, the strain had pushed his muscles to the brink of collapse.
Yet neither of them suggested stopping.
Both had entered a trance-like state, preparing for the next clash.
“This is...”
Aileen’s eyes twitched as she watched the scene unfold.
“...about the time we step in.”
Everyone in the VIP room could feel it.
If what they had seen until now had been a sparring match, then what followed would be a real fight.
The very air in the arena had grown colder.
That chilling aura was palpable even through the magically protected VIP suite.
Shiver!
Hans rubbed his arms like he was cold.
“Wh-What is this?”
The look on his face said even he didn’t know why he was reacting that way.
The same was true for Seridan, Bellaruna, and Violetta.
Ludger slowly stood up from his seat.
“Alex.”
At his call, Alex—who had remained still until now—rose to his feet.
“Yeah.”
“You’re ready?”
“It’s a bit iffy, but... yeah, I think I’ve got a handle on it.”
Alex mumbled something vague, difficult to understand.
But Ludger seemed satisfied with that and gave a small nod.
“Good. I’ll take Phantos.”
“Then I’ll handle the other side.”
Shff.
As shadows rose up to engulf Ludger and Alex—
Phantos and Passius, fully charged and no longer holding back, charged at each other.
No longer remembering that this was a duel, they abandoned all restraint in their next strikes.
In this desperate moment where someone could genuinely be seriously injured, the deciding factor in the match wasn’t Passius or Phantos.
“That’s enough.”
Ludger, cloaked in Ater Nocturnus, grabbed hold of Phantos’s spear with a massive shadow-wreathed arm.
“How about taking it down a notch?”
Alex, drawing his sword, intercepted Passius’s blade mid-swing—its edge radiating a sharp aura that looked like it could slice through anything.
The atmosphere, which had been boiling over toward a breaking point, instantly snapped like a puppet with its strings cut.
“......”
Passius stared intently at Alex’s signature cocky grin.
His gaze was so fierce that Alex exaggeratedly flinched and shrank back, going, “Whoa, that’s hot.”
Gradually, Passius seemed to regain his reason and quietly lowered his sword.
Only after sheathing his weapon did Alex also drop his guard.
“Leader. It’s settled here. How about your side?”
With that, Alex turned to look behind him.
The other side was still locked in a silent battle of wills.
“Phantos. That’s enough. The sparring match is over.”
“......”
Phantos, his eyes gleaming with the gaze of a predator, glared at Ludger.
A plague doctor’s mask formed of black shadow.
Even as he made eye contact with the eyes behind it, Phantos didn’t respond.
His aura didn’t wane in the slightest.
If anything, it blazed even more fiercely—as though enraged by being interrupted at such a crucial moment.
Ludger clicked his tongue inwardly at the sight.
He had tried to stop things before they got out of hand, but to Phantos, it was as if he’d pulled him away too soon. The beastkin was practically roaring with dissatisfaction.
Rather than calming down, Phantos was now directing intense killing intent toward Ludger himself.
He couldn’t exactly blame him.
But the time wasn’t right yet.
“Want some ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) help?” Alex offered, stepping forward.
Ludger blocked him with the hand that wasn’t holding Phantos’s spear.
His gaze, however, remained firmly locked on Phantos.
The ominous pressure in the air made Alex stop in his tracks.
Ludger slowly opened his mouth again, concentrating entirely on Phantos.
“Or would you rather finish the match we left unresolved... here and now?”
“......”
Within the plague doctor mask, Ludger’s blue eyes flickered.
A faint tinge of red began to mix into them.
Flinch.
Phantos felt the hairs all over his body stand on end.
Even the beast ears atop his head perked up in alarm.
Finally, the killing aura spilling from Phantos receded—neatly and cleanly.
As he loosened his grip on the spear, Ludger let go of it with equal ease.
“Good call.”
“......”
Phantos, regaining his rationality, shot a mildly displeased look at Ludger.
It had been a proper feast after so long.
Being interrupted, even by the leader, couldn’t help but rub him the wrong way.
Ludger released Ater Nocturnus and spoke to Phantos in a light, teasing tone.
“Eat too much and you’ll get indigestion.”
“I could’ve digested it just fine.”
Without a word, Ludger tapped Phantos’s forearm.
Phantos snorted roughly through his nose, but that was all.
Then, keeping his eyes on Passius, Phantos said,
“Someday, let’s fight each other at full strength.”
“I’ll gladly accept.”
Passius, too, had felt some dissatisfaction—but his patience ran far deeper than any beastkin’s.
Of course he was disappointed.
Now that he’d reached the Master level, he knew opportunities like this wouldn’t come often.
But he wasn’t as endlessly thirsty for combat as Phantos was. More importantly, there was something else that had caught his attention.
The one who had blocked his sword: Alex.
‘Something’s strange.’
His narrowed eyes studied Alex closely.
There was no doubt he was weaker than Phantos.
Relatively speaking, of course. Alex was still quite skilled.
At minimum, he was on the level of a high-ranking knight. But not a Master.
Yet just now, Alex had stopped his sword.
And done it cleanly.
‘Strength? Speed? Or some other unknown ability?’
No.
Alex had blocked him using pure swordsmanship.
To be exact, he had used the exact same technique Passius had just performed.
The technique that disrupted the flow of a strike by stabbing into the opening mid-swing.
A move Passius had only shown once—to Phantos.
And yet, Alex had used that very move on him.
As if sensing Passius’s gaze, Alex turned slightly toward him—then gave a crooked smile and shrugged.
Passius couldn’t help but let out a wry chuckle.
‘So that’s why... I was wondering how someone like him became an executive.’
Alex possessed an utterly bizarre talent.
The ability to mimic another’s swordsmanship exactly.
Swordsmanship isn’t something you can copy just by watching.
Even to crudely imitate it takes years of training.
But Alex hadn’t needed that.
‘There’s no way he saw my swordplay before... which means he analyzed it just now, watching me fight that beastkin.’
He absorbed and reproduced the essence of Passius’s swordsmanship in that brief window?
All martial arts, fundamentally, take years to master.
And even when a practitioner of one style learns another, it still requires more years of adjustment.
Swordsmanship is no different.
Techniques passed down through noble houses or distinct schools—once a swordsman devotes themselves to one, learning another becomes practically impossible.
Because each style molds the body into a different optimal form.
Even Master-level knights, freed from those limitations, don’t automatically have the muscle memory to perform unfamiliar techniques flawlessly.
Yet the man before him—Alex—had done just that.
He had the perception to see swordsmanship, the mind to analyze it, and the body to replicate it precisely.
‘A beastkin who grows stronger through fighting, and a knight who grows stronger just by watching a fight...’
Where in the world had Ludger found such absurd monsters?
“You. What’s your name?”
“You mean me?”
Alex pointed at himself in response to the question.
“Alex. Just call me Alex.”
“It’s strange. Someone of your caliber, yet no one’s heard of you before.”
Passius had spoken with genuine admiration, recognizing Alex’s skill.
But Alex could only respond with a bitter smile.
“Yeah... weird, right?”
That subtle reply made Passius realize that Alex must carry a difficult past.
It didn’t feel like guilt from having done something bad.
More like personal discomfort with his own history.
Passius didn’t pry.
It felt like something that shouldn’t be brought up.
And now wasn’t the time for it anyway.
“Sigh... Just when I thought I’d finally improved a bit, I end up getting humbled again.”
Passius gave a sheepish smile.
It wasn’t that he’d gained nothing from the fight.
But the others seemed to have gained so much more.
Just then, Aileen and the other executives from Owens descended into the arena.
As everyone gathered, Aileen turned to Ludger and asked,
“I saw the whole spar. Impressive, indeed. That beastkin warrior of yours—he must be the strongest among your companions, yes?”
Ludger shook his head.
Aileen, who had spoken with near certainty, blinked in surprise.
“He’s not? Then who’s the strongest?”
“Hans.”
Ludger replied as he pointed toward Hans, who still looked completely dazed and clueless.