Kaelan stood in silence for a few seconds, his chest heaving. He shut his eyes tightly and opened them again, blinking several times as he struggled to clear his vision.
The world was still spinning but thanks to Northern's patience, he had a moment to steady himself.
The stadium held its breath in stunned silence. The movement—the kick—had been sharp, precise, and devastating. It was a miracle Kaelan was even still standing.
For the entire coliseum to fall into a perfect hush like that—all at once—one could only imagine how tremendous the impact had been. And that strike had landed straight on his head.
Northern stood quietly, watching him. Of course, he could have ended it all in one smooth move if he wanted to. Just like the Kejar scion had claimed at the start of the match—Northern had options. Many of them.
But it wasn't every day he found someone who was good at both speed and strength. Someone who knew combat—not just its movements, but its essence, its splendid latter. Northern felt a flicker of excitement. He didn't want it to end just yet.
He wanted to stretch Kaelan to his limits. And the boy clearly wasn't finished—not yet. Since the match began, he hadn't even used his talent.
Northern wanted to see what it was—and how Kaelan would combine it with swordsmanship. He was genuinely curious.
Kaelan took a few more moments, squinting, blinking. Then, finally, his balance returned. He scowled, tilted his head, and spat blood onto the floor.
Then his stance changed.
Before, he'd leaned his upper body forward, sword drawn to his back. Now, he crossed his arms, holding both swords in reverse grip.
They were short swords—not too long, not too short. Just perfect for whatever style he was about to reveal.
A purple light flickered in his eyes, menacing and electric. Even though he'd just taken a brutal hit—one that made many spectators pity him—Kaelan still radiated enough aura to make everyone sit back up, their anticipation rising.
His blades exhaled a faint, ghostly purple smoke.
Northern frowned. He still didn't know what Kaelan's talent was… but he was about to find out.
Wham!
Kaelan blasted forward—so fast he seemed to vanish—and unleashed his crossed arms midair. A radiant X-shaped slash of flaring purple energy surged toward Northern.
But all Northern did was extend one hand.
Void force shimmered invisibly in front of him.
The slash collided with it—and collapsed instantly.
But something else followed.
A chain.
It snapped out of the burst like a serpent, latching tightly onto Northern's wrist.
He looked down at it, unamused. The chain glowed with violet energy, like it had been forged from Kaelan's very essence.
'His talent, huh…'
[You have discovered talent (S): ChainBound]
[You do not have enough copy slot]
Northern stared at the glowing shackle now bound to his wrist, his expression unreadable.
"What does this change?"
He asked flatly.
"You used the slash as a decoy to plant this on me. Do you really think that gives you any kind of leverage?"
Kaelan tilted his head, his voice cool.
"You're certainly arrogant. Understandable, considering how powerful you are."
He lifted his own arm. The chain on Northern's wrist was connected to his.
"The ability I used is called Shackle Lash. Once bound, it cuts your movement speed and halves your essence flow. And it won't break—unless my essence drops low."
He smirked.
"And as it happens, I've got essence to spare."
Northern regarded the chain without a hint of urgency.
"I see…"
[You have changed your name…]
Northern twisted the chain around his hand slowly—then yanked.
Hard.
Kaelan's eyes widened a fraction—but by then it was too late. The chain snapped tight like a noose, dragging him forward with the momentum of a mountain.
He was utterly helpless against the titanic force.
In a blink, he was pulled straight into Northern's space.
Northern's fist clenched—so tight the air around it trembled, then cracked.
A thunderclap rang out.
Then the punch landed square into Kaelan's stomach.
Boom!
The boy's body folded around the blow—and he flew like a ragdoll.
Northern watched as Kaelan dove through the wind and crashed into the base of the coliseum with blistering—and even more terrifying—speed than before.
The entire arena trembled violently on impact. But thankfully, this time, the crash had landed low—just below the first row of seats.
Mouths fell open. Gasps rippled. The spectators stared, then turned, exchanging wild looks between the crash site and the boy who had thrown the punch.
"He's supposed to be a non-combative student, for star's sake!"
"Man! He sure can throw punches!"
"What the hell? Does he have super strength too?"
"I feel like the walls of my mental health are collapsing just watching this guy fight. What is going on?! Does he have multiple talents?!"
"Who on earth could beat him?!"
Voices overlapped and erupted across the crowd—confused, shocked, amazed. Everyone had their own words, their own version of disbelief. But one thing tied all their reactions together:
Astonishment.
Sheer, unfiltered astonishment.
Because the supposedly non-combative student was more combative than anyone from the academy's actual combative campus could ever hope to be.
Northern, meanwhile, paid no mind to the murmurs or attention. He simply stood there, eyes locked on the gaping hole at the base of the coliseum.
Dust cloaked the crater like a smokescreen, veiling its interior from view. He couldn't tell what lay inside—not yet.
More importantly, the chain had broken easily when his punch connected. Whatever was left of it was now dissolving into the air like mist from a dream.
Still, his curiosity lingered.
He wanted to know—Did Kaelan survive that hit?
'Nah... I don't think he would've…'
Kaelan was probably a Master at best. And Northern didn't believe a Master could withstand a punch from Titan's Reckoning, especially not when reinforced with Colossal Force.
That strike could crack the foundation of a mountain when unleashed in full. Northern hadn't gone all out—but he wasn't sure how much force he'd actually used.
His body, in this weakened state, had made it harder to gauge. Measuring output with precision was… a hassle.
He exhaled slowly, fingers flexing.
A part of him genuinely hoped he hadn't done permanent damage to Kaelan.
Then something moved.
A silhouette began to form through the settling haze. It stepped through the dust like a phantom being carved from fog.
Northern's eyes twitched.
A pale grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
"…No way."