Klauss's nonchalant facade was shattered completely. The silver-haired Champion gripped his broadsword with both hands, the veins in his neck bulging against his skin.
"A trick!" Klauss roared, his voice echoing through the stunned coliseum. "That was nothing but a cowardly trick! You used Vance to take the hit!"
"It's called using the environment," Lexel replied lazily, rolling his shoulders. "If you wanted a fair fight, you shouldn't have brought a glowing sword to a sandbox."
"Shut up!" Klauss snapped. His jagged broadsword erupted in a blinding aura of dense, swirling green wind. He lunged forward, his boots kicking up a massive spray of sand. "Let's see you hide behind that piece of scrap when I cut it to pieces!"
He's fast, Lexel noted, watching the Champion close the distance in the blink of an eye. But he's entirely too predictable.
Klauss swung his blade horizontally, pouring every ounce of his Champion-class strength into the attack.
[Grand Gale Arc!]
Lexel didn't dodge. He forcefully channeled his grip into the heavy iron grip, triggering the [Arsenal] passive. The shield hummed violently, its defensive stats instantly doubling—but so did its degradation rate.
Lexel didn't use it to block. He shoved the shield forward at the exact moment the broadsword made contact, intentionally sacrificing his only defense.
CRUNCH!
The massive iron tower shield shattered into pieces. But in that split second of destruction, the heavy iron fragments completely swallowed the kinetic force of the Champion's strike. Klauss's blade bit deep into the crumbling metal and stuck fast, violently pulling the Champion's momentum forward and throwing him off balance.
Klauss stumbled, his arm fully extended.
Lexel stepped perfectly inside his guard. With a fluid, terrifyingly fast motion, Lexel clamped his arm tightly against his side, trapping Klauss's extended right arm directly under his armpit.
The Champion was locked in place.
"Wha—" Klauss gasped, his silver eyes widening in sudden panic as he tried to yank his arm back. It felt like his limb was caught in an iron vice.
Lexel didn't draw a weapon. He didn't use a skill.
He just raised his free hand, pulled it back, and swung.
SLAP!
The sound rang out like a thunderclap, echoing sharply off the high stone walls of the coliseum. Klauss's head snapped violently to the side, a spray of spit and blood flying from his lips.
Before the Champion's brain could even register the pain, Lexel swung again.
SLAP!SLAP!SLAP!
It was a furious, rapid barrage of open-handed strikes. Every single slap carried the monstrous, unbridled base stats of a Zodiac Heir. The sheer concussive force deafened the arena, completely drowning out the gasps of the crowd.
"Guha! S-Stop—" Klauss choked out, his vision spinning into a blur of stars.
Lexel didn't stop. He kept his iron grip on Klauss's trapped arm, using the momentum of his furious slaps to literally walk the Champion backward across the sand.
SLAP!SLAP!
With every humiliating strike, Lexel forced Klauss to stumble back another step. The "apex predator" of the arena was completely helpless, being treated like a misbehaving child in front of thousands of spectators.
Up in the VIP box, Kain felt his stomach drop. His breath completely left his lungs. He watched a fellow Champion—a man he had viewed as a genuine threat—being casually slapped across the arena floor.
He's not fighting him, Kain realized, pure terror gripping his heart. He's disciplining him.
Lexel continued his relentless march, driving the dazed, bleeding Champion backward until he felt his heel brush against the raised stone lip of the arena's boundary line.
Lexel finally stopped his hand.
Klauss's face was a swollen, bruised mess. His eyes were rolled back, his consciousness barely hanging on by a thread.
Lexel let out a bored sigh. He unclasped his armpit, releasing his iron grip on the Champion's arm.
Without a second glance, Lexel turned his back and started walking toward the center of the ring.
Deprived of whatever was holding him up, Klauss's knees buckled. His body tilted backward, completely dead weight. He tipped over the small stone wall and crashed heavily onto the hard dirt of the spectator pathway, his swollen face staring blankly up at the sky.
He was completely out of bounds.
The silence in the Einjaar coliseum shattered.
For a full ten seconds, thousands of spectators, hardened veterans, and wealthy nobles stared at the swollen, unconscious body of the silver-haired Champion lying in the dirt outside the arena boundary.
Then, the announcer's magically amplified voice cracked through the air, stripped entirely of its usual professional hype.
"K-Klauss is... out of bounds!" the announcer stammered, his voice squeaking in sheer disbelief. "The remaining combatants are incapacitated! The winner of the Einjaar Battle Royal is... Lexel!"
The crowd erupted into a chaotic, panicked murmur. It was the sound of thousands of people having their fundamental understanding of reality forcefully rewritten.
Up in the VIP box, the Baron let out a high-pitched wheeze and fainted dead away, his massive belly heaving as he slumped into his chair. Kain remained frozen at the railing, his arrogant blue eyes hollow and unblinking.
Down in the lower stands, Anthierin sat perfectly still on her stone seat, her eyes glued to the young man standing alone in the center of the devastated arena. Lexel was casually dusting off his hands, looking thoroughly annoyed about getting sweat on his palms.
He humiliated a Champion, Anthierin thought, her heart hammering against her ribs. He dragged the absolute peak of the kingdom through the mud like it was nothing.
Her mind raced, desperately trying to categorize the monster she had traveled with.
Lexel actively destroyed expensive weapons, treating them as disposable tools. He fought with his bare hands, his feet, and pure, overwhelming physical force.
Is this because of his job class? Anthierin wondered, her brow furrowing deeply. He fights completely unarmed. Is he a Monk?
The Monk class was incredibly rare in their world due to its reputation as a trash-tier profession. It was a dead-end path for peasants, completely lacking the heavy armor of a Knight or the lethal skills of a Rogue.
But look at what he just did, Anthierin argued with herself, her eyes tracking Lexel as he stretched his neck. A Level 15 Monk caving in a steel breastplate with a finger flick completely defies the established laws.
She bit her lower lip, her blacksmith's logic fighting against the sheer evidence before her eyes.
The Champion class is still the de facto peak, she reasoned internally, gripping the hem of her dress. It is an absolute law. Champions get double base stats. They are the chosen warriors of the kingdom. Kain proved it. Klauss proved it. The math is absolute.
Mathematically, a Level 19 Champion would slaughter a Level 15 Monk a hundred times out of a hundred.
Anthierin's breath hitched. A terrifying, awe-inspiring thought bloomed in the back of her mind.
Unless the math is broken.
She looked up at Kain's pale, terrified face in the VIP box, and then back down to Lexel's bored, yawning expression on the sand.
What if the hierarchy extends beyond Champion? Anthierin thought, a shiver running down her spine. What if there is a hidden, higher tier that this world is completely blind to?
Down on the arena floor, Lexel turned toward the competitor's tunnel, ignoring the stunned medics rushing out to scrape Vance and Klauss off the ground.
He looked up toward the stands, locked eyes with Anthierin, and flashed that same arrogant, razor-sharp smirk.
Anthierin swallowed hard.
Just who exactly are you, Lexel?
Mera shrieked. She pressed her hands to her face in sheer terror, her silk fan forgotten on the floor. She looked at Kain, expecting her strong, heroic fiancé to project confidence, to assure her that this peasant was a fluke.
Kain completely refused to meet her eyes.
Behind them, the lavish VIP box devolved into utter chaos.
The Baron of Einjaar lay sprawled across his oversized chair, his massive belly heaving. Two personal guards frantically fanned his sweaty, pale face, splashing a goblet of cold water over his forehead to wake him from his fainting spell.
The Baron's beady eyes fluttered open. He gasped for air, his thick fingers immediately clutching at the silk fabric over his chest.
"The gold..." the Baron wheezed, his voice reduced to a pathetic, ragged whisper.
"Father, please!" Mera cried, rushing to his side. "Stay still! The clerics are coming!"
"Forget the clerics!" The Baron shoved his daughter aside with a burst of frantic, adrenaline-fueled strength.
He scrambled to his feet, his extravagant doublet stained and ruined. He stumbled to the stone railing, his eyes bulging out of his skull as he stared down at Lexel.
The math repeated itself in his head, an endless loop of absolute financial doom.
Fifty-eight thousand gold coins bet on the Level 15. At one-to-ten odds.
"Five hundred and eighty thousand..." the Baron mumbled, the remaining color draining completely from his face. "Over half a million gold..."
He gripped his thinning hair, pulling desperately at the roots. His estate, his noble titles, and his entire life's work of extortion were completely gone. The boy casually stretching on the sand below had single-handedly bankrupted the Baron of Einjaar.
A manic, desperate rage suddenly replaced the Baron's terror. He leaned over the railing, his face turning an ugly shade of purple.
"Mera! Invite him to the banquet," the Baron hissed, his voice trembling but laced with venom. "Make sure that he's there!"
Mera flinched, clutching her silk fan tightly to her chest. "Y-Yes, father."
The Baron turned his heavy gaze to the pale, shaken Champion standing beside his daughter. "Kain, you must absolutely—"
The Baron stopped abruptly. His thick brows twitched. He glanced nervously at the surrounding guards and the open balcony.
"Not here, not in public." He excused himself, turning away from the railing. He grabbed the shoulder of his lead guard, his thick fingers digging into the man's armor. "Tell the betting admin to give them the money, but pay absolute attention. Don't let them exit the city!"
The Baron turned around and left, his heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor as he abandoned his daughter and future son-in-law in the lavish booth.
Down on the arena floor, the dust had completely settled. The medics were frantically dragging the groaning Level 19 veterans off the sand.
High up on the podium, the announcer swallowed hard. He tapped the magical amplification crystal, his hands visibly shaking. He took a deep breath, forcefully pulling his professional bravado back into his chest.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." the announcer's voice boomed, rolling like thunder across the massive coliseum. "The impossible has happened! The veterans have fallen! The Champion is defeated!"
He pointed a trembling finger down at the single young man standing casually in the center of the destruction.
"I present to you the undisputed winner of the Einjaar Battle Royal... the Level 15... LEXEL!"
The coliseum exploded. The sheer volume of the roaring crowd shook the stone foundations of the stands. It was a chaotic, deafening mix of furious gamblers tearing up their betting slips and bewildered fans screaming in pure, unadulterated awe.
Daren collapsed back into his stone seat. His calloused hands gripped his knees tight enough to turn his knuckles white. He stared blankly at the roaring crowd, his mind completely failing to process the reality unfolding before him.
Beside him, Anthierin remained standing. The deafening roar of the arena washed over her, drowning out the lingering anxieties in her heart.
She looked down at the sand. She looked at the broken weapons, the shattered iron shields, and the medical stretchers carrying away the absolute peak of the kingdom's fighters. And standing above it all, completely unscathed and looking thoroughly bored, was Lexel.
A Level 15 had just rewritten the absolute laws of their world in broad daylight.
A slow, trembling smile finally broke across Anthierin's face.
We won, she thought, her heart soaring as the reality of their eighty thousand gold payout finally hit her. You absolute monster... we actually won.