Armand looked around, his eyes widening as the shadows continued to appear. Then he laughed loudly.
"HAHAHA… Taron! You never fail to surprise me!"
"But now, it's my turn to shine," Armand said as he began chanting a spell.
The moment his final words left his mouth, violent winds erupted, spiraling wildly across the entire arena.
The afterimages surrounding the battlefield were slowly swept away by Armand's wind magic.
The pulling force made Taron stagger slightly, his body being dragged toward the center of the vortex.
Nearly all the spectators were almost pulled in by the raging wind. Fortunately, Lyanna quickly activated a protective barrier around them, blocking the powerful gusts.
Grandfather Vale, on the other hand, stood firmly with his arms crossed, calmly watching Taron with absolute confidence.
Taron stared at the raging vortex. He could feel the crushing air pressure trying to pull him in, yet his expression remained calm.
"This is it…" he muttered inwardly.
Taron dashed straight toward the vortex at full speed. Instead of slowing him down, the wind boosted his momentum, sending him flying even faster toward Armand.
Armand observed with a faint smile.
"What are you planning now, Taron?"
In the next instant, Taron vanished into the storm.
Armand immediately activated his protective magic in all directions, preparing for a sudden attack from anywhere.
Suddenly, Taron appeared right in front of him, ready to strike. Armand braced himself—
but when Taron's punch landed, it passed straight through.
It was only an afterimage.
Armand's eyes darted around, searching for Taron's real position. But the swirling wind, dust, leaves, and sand obstructed his vision, disrupting his focus bit by bit.
"Damn… I can't keep pouring out magic like this," Armand thought, sweat dripping down his forehead.
"On one hand, I have to maintain my barrier… on the other, I must sustain the wind magic to interfere with his movement."
Meanwhile, Taron stood calmly at the edge of the arena, calculating every move.
"I hope that afterimage was enough to throw off his concentration," Taron thought.
"Uncle is incredibly strong… but if he keeps maintaining both the vortex and his shield, his stamina will eventually run out."
Taron took a slow breath, waiting for the perfect moment.
His eyes locked onto the weakening vortex.
The wind was no longer as violent.
That was the signal he had been waiting for.
With steady breathing, he leaned forward—
and launched himself at full speed.
Armand sensed the incoming attack and instantly reinforced his barrier.
This time, Taron didn't use tricks.
His real punch slammed directly into Armand's shield.
A violent shockwave rippled outward, causing the barrier to tremble violently.
Taron's afterimages continued circling the arena, attacking from multiple angles, forcing Armand to divide his focus.
Punch after punch, kick after kick—Taron pressed relentlessly.
Each strike drained Armand's concentration and slowly depleted his magical energy.
Armand was clearly growing tired.
His barrier shook more violently, and small cracks appeared from time to time—a clear sign that his mana was running low.
Moments later, the vortex began to weaken and finally dissipated, revealing the battlefield once more.
Dust filled the air. Leaves drifted down slowly. Sand swirled across the arena.
But Taron didn't stop.
He kept attacking.
Armand summoned another burst of wind, pushing Taron back for a brief moment.
Taron's black hair whipped wildly in the gusts—but instinctively, he stabilized himself, leaned forward again, and charged once more.
Armand paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on Taron who continued attacking relentlessly. He quickly calculated his next move, but his dwindling mana limited his options.
Finally, he made his decision.
He focused all of his remaining magic into a single, decisive strike—an attack meant to send Taron flying out of the arena if it landed.
His body tensed, arms and legs adjusting their stance as wind magic gathered around his clenched fist.
Inside his heart, Armand whispered,
"This has to hit… This single punch will decide everything."
Both of them launched their attacks at the same time.
Their eyes met.
The entire arena seemed to hold its breath.
The spectators froze—everyone knew this was the climax of the battle.
Their fists surged forward, neither showing any intention to dodge.
Time felt slower.
At the moment Armand's punch was about to smash into Taron's face, Taron ducked with incredible reflexes, narrowly avoiding the blow.
Using that momentum, Taron twisted his body and drove a counterpunch straight into Armand's abdomen at full speed.
Armand's eyes widened.
His body staggered.
He knew it.
Even with all his strength, this situation had slipped beyond his control.
His breathing became heavy.
For the first time, Armand truly felt it—
Taron was no longer just a student.
The wind magic around Armand's fist dissipated as Taron's strike landed with full force.
BOOM!
A shockwave rippled through the arena, sending dust, sand, and leaves flying wildly, momentarily blocking everyone's vision.
Armand's body was launched backward, soaring past the boundary of the arena. He crashed onto the ground and rolled several times before finally coming to a stop.
The audience fell silent.
Eyes widened.
Some even stood up in disbelief.
Armand had been knocked out of the arena.
Taron stood at the center of the battlefield, breathing heavily—but his expression remained calm.
His black hair fluttered gently in the fading wind. His muscles tensed briefly before slowly relaxing.
He did not chase Armand.
He did not raise his arms in victory.
He simply looked toward the edge of the arena—
a quiet gesture of respect, and the focus of a true martial artist.
Armand lay on the ground, staring at the sky with a faint smile on his face.
His body ached, yet his heart felt light.
For the first time, he experienced genuine defeat—not because his magic failed, but because he had been truly overcome by an equal.
"This is the first time I fought not to survive…"
he thought silently.
"Thank you, Taron."
Grandfather Vale raised his voice clearly.
"The winner—Taron Vale!"
Taron bowed deeply at the center of the arena, marking the official end of the match.
Lyanna, Zerik, and the guards stood frozen in shock.
Then applause erupted—loud and sincere—acknowledging Taron's extraordinary strength.
Taron walked steadily toward Armand, who was still lying on the ground.
He extended his hand.
"That was an incredible match, Uncle," he said softly, full of respect.
Armand looked up at him, smiled faintly, and accepted the hand, allowing Taron to help him stand.
"Thank you, Taron… You were truly amazing."
That evening, the arena bore witness to mutual respect.
Taron and Armand honored each other, while everyone else applauded with genuine admiration.
The sun slowly sank below the horizon, signaling the arrival of night.
Warm twilight wrapped around the arena.
Later, everyone gathered for a large dinner, sharing laughter and stories after an exhausting day.
At the long table, Taron and Armand sat side by side.
Before them were plates piled high with rice and fragrant braised pork.
They ate heartily, exchanging light conversation and smiles.
Despite having fought fiercely just hours earlier, the relaxed atmosphere proved that respect and bonds were stronger than any battle.
Eventually, they gathered around a campfire.
The crackling flames blended with rustling leaves beneath a star-filled sky.
A peaceful warmth filled the air.
Taron stared into the fire.
Then Armand spoke seriously.
"So, Taron… are you planning to attend the academy?"
Taron exhaled slowly.
"I… I don't know. If I go, I'll be far behind everyone else."
Armand smiled gently.
"You don't need to worry about that."
Taron looked confused.
"What do you mean, Uncle?"
Armand lowered his gaze and met Taron's eyes.
"I want you to enroll… to protect Lyanna."
"Can you help me?"
Taron turned toward Grandfather Vale.
The old man smiled warmly, his wrinkled eyes filled with pride and trust—as if saying that the choice now belonged entirely to Taron.
Taron held his grandfather's gaze.
Within that smile, he felt both the weight of parting and deep faith.
It was as though Grandfather Vale was ready to release his beloved grandson into the wider world.
Taron lifted his eyes toward the star-filled sky.
He smiled faintly.
Becoming stronger than yesterday—
that was only the beginning.
Whatever awaited him tomorrow…
he would be ready.