Northern's grin trembled, caught in an almost perverse amusement.
'...to think he would survive that.'
No matter how much he had held back, a Maelstrom would have been pulverized beneath the mighty punch he'd thrown.
He couldn't help but award Kaelan the trophy he so rightfully deserved.
'This bastard is tough as nails…'
Of course, the young Kejar scion wasn't emerging unscathed. In truth, he looked better off dead than in his current state.
He barely walked—dragging himself forward, his face marred with crimson patches and his jaw painted scarlet. When he parted his lips to grit against the pain, his teeth gleamed red like bloodstained pearls.
His once-pristine armor had vanished. Whether he'd dismissed it or Northern's punch had obliterated it remained unclear. This left him in skintight black underclothes that contoured every edge of his frame, making him appear carved from onyx stone despite his pitiful condition.
For a fleeting moment, Northern considered ending the fight. But he shook his head.
'No. That would be an insult to him. He managed to stand... I should honor that.'
Northern didn't claim to know much about honor. Yet Eisha had instilled in him valuable lessons and principles that were surfacing now as he engaged his mind—reorganizing his thoughts and refusing to define everything through the lens of the things that happened in the Dark Continent.
Perhaps he owed this recent development to Roma.
Northern fixed Kaelan with a piercing glare, his lips curving into a slight smile.
"This is it... friend. Go hard right now, or go home..."
Kaelan responded with a frenzied grin, his blood-stained teeth transforming him into something truly demented. He ignored his body's sorry state and clenched both swords tightly, arms extending horizontally outward.
He didn't speak. Not yet. Or perhaps he was too injured to form words.
Kaelan snarled furiously and shot forward. Despite his wounds, his speed suffered no reduction. He blazed forward in a furious streak of purple light, a blur to the naked eye.
He clashed against Northern's sword with such tremendous power that Northern's eyes widened in shock. Shockwaves rippled outward in concentric circles, drowning the air in vicious pressure. A heartbeat later, the entire ground followed suit—shrapnels of stone, as if diced into perfect cubes by some artistic butcher, rose into the air and scattered from the intense force surrounding both fighters.
Several onlookers scrambled for shelter. Students with shield-type Talents sprang into action, protecting the line of civilians—a deliberate safety measure implemented by the student council after witnessing how dangerous the battle had become.
Northern felt the brunt of the power press against him, nearly buckling beneath its intensity. But of course—he wouldn't yield. He pushed back with formidable force, launching Kaelan away with a decisive forward thrust.
The Kejar scion flew helplessly through the air. Before he could land, Northern materialized behind him, eyes streaking with cold blue light.
He twirled mid-air and delivered a picture-perfect airborne 360-degree kick that altered Kaelan's trajectory, hurling him forward and sending him reeling across the arena floor. Kaelan's body tumbled like wreckage from a catastrophic collision before finally skidding to a halt at the arena's edge.
For several agonizing seconds, Kaelan remained motionless, unable to summon the strength to stand.
Northern approached with cold, dignified grace—only to halt mid-step as something caught his attention. He raised his hand to his nose, then examined the finger that had touched it. There was... blood.
His blood.
'Shit.'
The clone's body was already approaching its limit. He could feel it—tissue breaking down, energy depleting. He needed to end this quickly.
While Northern was momentarily distracted, Kaelan had silently extended his hand. As Northern prepared to advance, he suddenly found himself immobilized.
Northern frowned and glanced downward.
Purple chains wrapped desperately around both ankles, locking him to the ground with merciless grip.
Kaelan was already struggling to his feet, blood cascading down one side of his face, rendering him a portrait of miserable yet picturesque heroism.
Northern shook his head.
"You just never learn, do you?"
Kaelan's lips curled into a nasty grin.
"Not when you're such a poor teacher..."
He surged forward again, a purple flash cutting through the air. This time, serpentine chains erupted from his body, streaking wickedly ahead, desperately seeking to crush Northern beneath their malicious might.
Northern stood impassive before the onslaught. He downturned his lips, watching as the chains smashed through empty air, never quite reaching him.
Confusion etched itself across Kaelan's face, briefly disrupting his focus as he hovered above Northern. He dove in nonetheless, blades dancing in an intricate twirl as he descended upon his opponent.
Northern raised his sword, hands swift and precise as he intercepted the sequence of strikes that Kaelan wove. Their combat transformed into a deadly dance.
Each movement flowed into the next—a downward slash transitioning to a diagonal upward strike delivered by the second sword. With flawless precision, Kaelan flipped one blade, gripping it in reverse to execute an upward vertical slash. He launched it skyward with impeccable timing before attempting an overhead thrust which Northern easily sidestepped, the blade whistling harmlessly past his chest.
Rather than allowing momentum to carry him forward, Kaelan retracted with graceful footwork and pivoted in an unconventional manner that sparked Northern's amusement.
'Oh... looks like he's learning on his own after all.'
Still, it proved futile. Northern moved too quickly for such nascent growth to matter. Before Kaelan could complete his pivot, Northern's palm shot out, crushing against his opponent's arm.
It was a simple strike, yet a shockwave tore through the air as Kaelan was catapulted backward, somersaulting and tumbling across the ground once more.
Northern looked down as the ground beneath him began to crystallize. The chains frosted over, and with a casual flex of his leg, he shattered the frozen restraints and strode forward.
"Look, friend. There are several ways I could end you. This battle could have been over before it began, had I wished it so. While I find your earnest attempt to challenge me rather amusing, it doesn't change the fundamental truth of your standing compared to mine."
Northern halted as he reached the fallen scion of the Kejar Clan.
"You all harbor a certain resentment toward us students of the Dark Continent, don't you? Deep down, you're desperate to prove—perhaps to me, perhaps to yourself or your clan—that you possess strength equal to ours, despite the differences in our environments."
He gazed down at Kaelan, a cold glow illuminating his eyes.
"But you don't. You might wield an A-class Talent, or even SSS-class—I don't particularly care. Someone with a mere C-class Talent from the Dark Continent would outperform you because they've had to survive the world's true harshness. Your abilities, while impressive, have blossomed in pools of nurturing care and optimal conditions. Ours emerged from quite the opposite."
He raised his chin, positioning his foot above Kaelan's head.
"Tell me, friend... how could you possibly compete against that reality? It's futile. No matter what you attempt, our environment has created such a vast chasm between us that no amount of effort can bridge it."
His voice softened, almost compassionate in its finality.
"...just... accept it."