Rowan stood tall in the arena, facing Lucien head-on. The two of them radiated contrasting auras—Lucien's eyes burned with fiery passion, full of energy and aggression, while Rowan appeared calm, cold, yet his sharp presence was undeniable.
"I'm coming for you!" Lucien shouted boldly, charging forward like a raging bull.
Rowan moved swiftly. As Lucien's fist nearly connected, Rowan executed a lightning-fast maneuver that was nearly impossible to follow with the naked eye. In an instant, his body shifted to the side, and with precision, he struck the side of Lucien's neck. The blow landed directly on the carotid artery, throwing Lucien off balance.
And not just once. Rowan struck the same spot repeatedly, landing each hit with deadly precision. Lucien clenched his teeth, enduring the pain as his body jolted and his movement space shrank. Thinking fast, Lucien swept his leg low, aiming to knock Rowan down, but Rowan nimbly leapt out of the way. Lucien's eyes widened, almost unable to believe what he was seeing.
But before he could fully process it, a powerful kick slammed straight into his face. Lucien's body was flung backward.
The cheers from the crowd grew louder and more intense. They could feel a different kind of pressure watching Rowan—how effective and precise every one of his moves was.
Without wasting time, Rowan stomped his foot down and quickly closed in on the staggering Lucien. Feeling the threat, Lucien forced himself to stand. Strangely, instead of attacking immediately, Lucien just smirked mockingly.
"You!" Lucien growled, his tone laced with building rage.
"Your turn," Rowan replied, a faint smirk curling his lips—a jab straight at Lucien's pride.
The spectators went wild. But amid the uproar, Lucien focused completely on Rowan. In a flash, he lunged forward—his speed so sharp it took only milliseconds for him to maneuver behind Rowan.
His palm was ready, emitting an invisible aura that seemed to ripple through the air, a telltale sign of his signature move: Palm Blast—a destructive technique that condensed energy into his palm to explode directly on his target.
He launched the attack forward. A powerful gust blasted across the arena, but… it hit nothing but air.
Lucien's eyes went wide, his instincts screaming at him. As he hurried to turn around, a searing heat coursed across his back—Rowan was already behind him, mid-attack.
BANG!
A shockwave from Rowan's palm slammed into Lucien, sending him flying several meters—a move mirroring Lucien's own technique earlier. But surprisingly, Lucien's momentum halted just as he hit the arena barrier. Not because the attack was weak—it was incredibly powerful—but because Lucien had activated a secret defensive technique.
This technique allowed his body to absorb the incoming energy and redistribute it across his entire system, minimizing localized damage. It was a highly advanced move, with the slightest mistake potentially resulting in fatal injury.
Even though he managed to withstand it, the side effect was extreme fatigue. Yet Lucien, accustomed to this, showed only faint signs of exhaustion. His breathing was heavy, but his eyes stayed locked on Rowan, this time with far greater seriousness.
"How the hell did you use that technique?" he demanded, his voice a mix of surprise and anger.
Rowan simply gave a flat smile. "I saw you do it, so I did it."
Lucien's brow furrowed deeply, rage exploding across his face. Without hesitation, he charged again, and the fight reignited. Fists clashed, techniques collided—a spectacle so mesmerizing it left the crowd breathless.
The spectators were captivated, barely able to breathe as they watched the two fight like disciples from the same school, mirroring each other's moves, as if they were reflections of one another.
Up in the stands, the old man and the younger man who had been seated earlier were now standing, watching in disbelief.
"They both… that technique…" the younger man muttered.
"It's unbelievable… I can't believe my eyes," he whispered again.
"Me either," the old man agreed with a sharp nod, his expression hardened. "That technique was supposed to be… nearly extinct. I never imagined seeing it performed so easily. Who the hell are they, really?"
The crowd buzzed with growing speculation, some already scheming ways to recruit these two mysterious fighters.
Back in the arena, Rowan started to dominate. Lucien, who was usually nimble, was now being pushed to his limits. No matter how hard he tried to land a hit, none of his punches connected. Until finally, Rowan caught Lucien's fist, making Lucien's face pale with panic.
With a swift motion, Rowan yanked Lucien's arm and threw him upward, sending Lucien's body soaring through the air. At that moment, Rowan's palm began to glow with an energy denser than before—so much pressure it visibly distorted the air around his hand.
BANG!
Rowan's palm struck Lucien's abdomen hard. The impact was so intense that Lucien's soul projection appeared behind his body—a terrifying supernatural phenomenon indicating that the blow had struck deep into his spiritual core.
The same skill Lucien used before.
FWOOSH!
Lucien's body shot high into the air before crashing outside the arena, slamming hard onto the ground.
His pupils vanished, turning completely white—unconscious.
Silence.
Then… deafening cheers erupted from every corner of the arena, louder than ever before. The crowd was on their feet, shouting and cheering with eyes full of awe.
"Shit, he used the same technique too?"
"I've got to learn that move!"
"Who is he really? Are they rivals or what?"
Speculation about the two grew wilder, a mix of admiration and swelling respect. The fight they had just witnessed felt like a high-level technique demonstration—something rare, maybe even never seen before.
Most of the crowd was left stunned, not really understanding the technique they had just watched. But a handful of experienced fighters wore serious expressions. That technique didn't come to mind as inspiration or aspiration—it brought back nightmares of battles survived or barely escaped.
It was Heaven's Shatter technique—a combat art so exclusive, it was owned only by special forces created for one purpose: to kill and destroy.
The technique was infamous for its brutal effectiveness but also for its inhumane training methods. Many had died just trying to learn it.
And now, two young men performed it so naturally, as if it were just ordinary martial arts.
To the untrained eye, they looked like incredibly gifted awakeners. But to those who had been victims of that technique—and lived to tell the tale—these two were bloodthirsty monsters in human form.
Amid the stunned crowd, two figures remained sharply focused: the old man and the young man who had been watching the entire fight with keen eyes.
"We have to approach them," the younger man said, his eyes gleaming with determination. "I'm sure the other elders are thinking the same thing."
The old man's expression tightened. "Hmph, it won't be that easy," he muttered gravely. His gaze sharpened as he studied Rowan and Lucien, who had just finished their fight. "The two of them seem at odds and clearly have very different personalities. I can see that fiery kid—he's persistent, stubborn, never gives up… but also reckless. The other one… he's calm, highly controlled. But beneath that calmness, I can sense something darker—anger, a deep-seated grudge. He doesn't just want to win; he wants to make his enemy suffer."
The younger man nodded slowly, his face growing tense as he absorbed the explanation. "So… it's impossible to get them both at the same time?"
The old man narrowed his eyes and nodded firmly. "Exactly. And I'm sure you've realized that too."
The younger man took a deep breath, shifting his gaze back to the arena, his expression growing even more serious.
In the arena, Rowan wore a slight smile, flashing a victorious look. But it was only a poker face, concealing the deep satisfaction bubbling inside—especially as he saw something only he could see.
[Defeated and knocked out Lucien Emery. +100 Villain Points]
[Interdimensional Roulette has now been unlocked]
A transparent hologram that no one but him could see.
'System interface,' he whispered in his heart.
Instantly, another interface popped up in front of him, but before he could examine it further, heavy footsteps echoed toward him. A massive man, built like a giant, dark-skinned with long curly hair, loomed in front of him—standing nearly 8 feet tall.
"You might've beaten that kid," the huge man said in a gravelly voice, full of threat. "But I'm not him."
The hologram vanished instantly, and Rowan raised an eyebrow, flashing a small smile. "I surrender," he said casually, raising both hands.
The crowd collectively gasped, sharp intakes of breath from all around. Many couldn't believe Rowan would surrender so easily after such a spectacular performance. Some began to question: wasn't he also chasing fame? What was the meaning of this?
The big man's face hardened immediately, his jaw clenching in rage. To him, such a surrender was a worse insult than losing in a brutal fight.
"I don't care," he hissed, eyes blazing. "You're not leaving this arena."
Roughly, he grabbed Rowan's shoulder tightly, the arena's tension shooting up instantly. The spectators held their breath again, the atmosphere taut like a drawn bowstring.
But Rowan's expression shifted drastically. His small smile disappeared, and his eyes grew cold, sharp as a blade. Without a word, he slowly raised his palm and placed it directly on the man's chest.
In the next second, a deafening BANG! echoed out, and the big man's body was hurled far back, flying like a ragdoll smashed by a massive hammer, slamming into the arena wall hundreds of meters away. His body immediately went limp, unconscious, his shirt imprinted with a glowing red handprint.
Utter silence fell over the arena. Not a single sound.
Then…
Explosive cheers erupted, louder and wilder than before. Everyone stood, shouting, screaming with eyes brimming with admiration.
Rowan, without glancing back once, walked calmly down from the arena, leaving behind an undeniable mark of victory.