Nova's counterattack had thrown the momentum of the fight into chaos. Every precise angle, every unpredictable vector Luthor used was now being blocked, redirected, or punished. Nova's movements were sharper, cleaner, and increasingly fluid—cutting through Luthor's patterns as if he'd been studying them for years.
Luthor rushed in again from behind, using the gravity current to swing himself around like a whip. But Nova turned with him, catching the punch with an open palm that sent a shockwave rolling across the ground. Luthor tried to twist the gravity upward to drop himself onto Nova from above—but Nova followed, raising his knee to intercept and forcing Luthor back with a heavy strike that cracked the stone beneath their feet.
It was clear now that Nova had adapted and Luthor was running out of time.
He swung once more—only to have his arm parried. He adjusted the vector—only for Nova to side-step. He launched a kick—Nova caught it and shoved him away with a force that made Luthor skid backward, nearly losing balance.
The crowd sensed the shift immediately.
"He's pushing Luthor back!"
"Nova's reading every attack—he's changed the whole flow!"
Luthor gritted his teeth and redirected the gravity field again, trying to recapture the advantage. But Nova closed the distance faster than expected, slamming a punch straight into Luthor's gut and sending him bouncing across the arena floor.
Luthor barely managed to float upright again, gasping.
Then Nova rushed forward—
—but before their fists could clash, Luthor roared.
"HAHHH—!!!"
His mana erupted outward in a violent pulse.
Gravity blasted away from him in all directions—an uncontrolled, desperate surge. It forced Nova back several steps, kicking up a storm of dust and fragments as the shockwave tore cracks across the battlefield.
Nova steadied himself, blinking away the dust.
Luthor was in the center of the destruction, shoulders heaving, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. His hair clung to his forehead, and exhaustion dripped from every line of his face. But despite the fatigue, his eyes blazed with fierce determination.
He forced one deep breath.
"…Let this," he panted heavily, "be my final blow."
He didn't wait for Nova's response. He spread his fingers wide and thrust one hand forward.
"Gravity Magic… Singularity Core."
The air warped.
A terrible pressure exploded from Luthor's palm, twisting into a tight spiral that drew everything inward. Dust whipped sideways. Stones ripped free of the ground. Entire chunks of debris began to tremble in place before getting yanked toward the forming center.
In his hand, a black sphere emerged—tiny at first, no larger than a marble.
But it grew.
And grew.
And grew.
The suction intensified until the battlefield itself shook, pulling broken pillars into the air and crushing them into pieces. The sound was deep and resonant—like the rumble of a storm swallowing the air around it.
The commoners in the stands panicked immediately:
"WHAT IS THAT?! IT'S PULLING EVERYTHING IN!"
"IS THIS REALLY GRAVITY MAGIC?!"
"Someone stop him! That thing—what if it gets bigger!?"
The suction grew stronger. Even spectators in the first rows felt their clothes tug forward as wind and dust tore past them.
Nova watched the growing sphere calmly, his armor unfazed by the pull. He felt the pressure tug at him—strong, persistent, dangerous—but manageable. He exhaled once, letting the moment settle.
A small, amused smile touched his lips.
" This thing reminds of certain ninjutsu from a certain ninja world."
He lifted his hand slowly.
The Ven-Drive armor glowed faintly at the joints. The crimson veins pulsed like a living heartbeat. Behind him, his grimoire flipped open with a faint shimmer, its pages glowing softly as if answering a call.
Nova closed his eyes.
Just a moment.
Then he opened them—calm, sharp, and focused.
This spell… he had created it inside the core of the World Tree. A technique built not from mana alone, but from an understanding of how space itself could be manipulated.
He raised his arm. Not high, just enough that his hand angled downward.
Then he moved.
His fingers sliced downward in a single clean arc—just like Escanor's attack, The One against Meliodas.
The air didn't burst, it didn't roar, it simply split.
A thin line carved itself downward, as if someone had drawn a blade through water. Every particle of dust, every stone, every thread of gravity along its path separated cleanly.
The line reached the black sphere.
For the briefest second, nothing happened.
Then—
SHHRRRK—!!
The sphere split in half like it had been cut by an invisible blade.
All suction stopped instantly.
The swirling debris dropped to the ground in a loose rain of dust. The violent pull vanished, leaving the arena completely still.
Commoners stared with wide, shaking eyes.
"H-He cut it…?"
"He cut gravity…?"
"HE CUT THAT THING IN HALF—WHAT KIND OF SPELL WAS THAT?!"
"That wasn't even an explosion—there was no sound—it just… ended!"
Nova lowered his hand, calm as ever. The armor's red veins glowed softly. This is called aura-farming. He could have actually teleported behind Luthor or used Demon Dweller Sword but just to create an image of powerful mage, he used this spell which was inspired from Captain Yami's 'Dimensional Slash' and Escanor's '"Divine Sword Escanor' spell.
----
Nova's fingers relaxed, the space-cutting arc fading cleanly into the air. The battlefield finally fell silent—completely silent—before the cheers erupted like a breaking dam.
Luthor collapsed to one knee, barely conscious but still breathing, and the announcer declared Nova the victor with a trembling voice.
Nova turned, armor shifting softly as he began walking toward the rest area.
He only made it a few steps.
A calm, composed voice called out across the arena.
"Lord Nova Ashbourne."
Nova stopped and turned his head slightly.
Standing at the far entrance of the arena were two individuals—both young, both wearing noble emblems, both carrying themselves with measured, disciplined grace.
The first stepped forward.
He was tall, dark-haired, and wore a mantle lined with polished gemstones. They glimmered softly with mana, marking him unmistakably as the heir of the gem-wielding house.
He placed a hand over his chest respectfully.
"Veyron Velnir," he introduced himself. "Heir to House Velnir."
Before Nova could respond, the second heir joined him—silver-haired, violet-eyed, his cloak lined with thin geometric patterns that shifted gently with spatial mana.
"Kael Lorin," he said with a nod. "Successor of House Lorin. We apologize for interrupting before you could leave the arena."
Veyron Velnir's gaze remained steady as he stepped forward, the gemstone-lined mantle shifting subtly with his movement. His posture was calm, respectful, and carried none of the arrogance nobles were often known for.
"Your fights against the other heirs were truly astonishing," Veyron said, voice smooth and composed. "Witnessing your strength firsthand has changed our perspective on how these trials should proceed."
Kael Lorin joined him with equal composure, the spatial patterns on his cloak flickering faintly with mana.
"We discussed this matter," Kael said, "and considering the time, as well as the intensity of today's battles… we believe a single, final bout would be more appropriate."
Veyron nodded once, continuing seamlessly.
"A team battle."
Kael added, "We—House Velnir and House Lorin—would stand together for the final match."
The crowd responded at once—startled murmurs, surprise, excitement—but the two heirs remained steady, their expressions unchanged.
Veyron kept his hands behind his back, his tone neither provoking nor challenging.
"Of course, Lord Ashbourne, this is only our suggestion."
Kael followed with a slight tilt of his head.
"If you agree, you may select a partner of your choice for the final fight."
Veyron raised a finger slightly, clarifying gently, "There is only one condition. Your partner cannot be a Magic Knight Captain."
Kael concluded, "Outside of that restriction… choose whomever you wish. We will allow you one hour to rest and decide."
Both heirs placed a hand over their chests in polite acknowledgment.
"We await your response, Lord Ashbourne," Veyron said.
"And if you accept," Kael added, "we will meet you on the final battlefield."
After they finished speaking, Kael and Veyron both stood awaiting Nova's answer.
After they finished speaking, Kael and Veyron remained exactly where they stood—still, poised, waiting for Nova's answer. Neither of them pressed further. Neither of them repeated the offer. They simply held his gaze with quiet confidence, giving him space to decide.
Nova raised his right eyebrow, a faint shift in expression that only someone paying close attention would notice.
Now this is interesting.
He replayed their words in his mind—the timing, the tone, the sudden unity between two houses that traditionally worked alone.
So this has been their plan all along…
Wear him down with two grueling fights. Let him exhaust mana, stamina, adaptability. Then, when he was least prepared, suggest a team battle as the "final" match. A smart move. A strategic move.
A very noble move.
Nova exhaled slowly, though no irritation touched his face. If anything, a faint hint of amusement flickered behind his eyes.
According to Celise's briefing, both Kael Lorin and Veyron Velnir were the strongest among the heirs. Not simply prodigies—but fighters whose magic, technique, and instincts placed them at the very edge of the Magic Knight Captain class.
After thinking for a while, Nova nodded," I agree."
x------x
CHAPTER: 146 REWARD IS AVAILABLE ON MY P@TREON.