Chapter 77: Chapter 76: Leo vs Alex
The arena buzzed with anticipation as the final semifinal match was about to begin. All eyes turned to the center stage where Leo Aetherwind, the rising star whose power had steadily shocked the entire stadium, stood calmly, arms crossed, exuding composed dominance. The wind seemed to still around him, a subtle indication of the power he restrained within. His cloak, dark and flowing, fluttered gently behind him. His golden eyes, resolute and piercing, scanned the area ahead with quiet assurance.
Across the stage, a figure stepped forward, his expression taut with intensity—Alex Bladecrest. His movements were sharp, determined, filled with purpose. His posture was rigid, shoulders squared and fists clenched. Though his prior victory had ended in an awkward spectacle, none could deny the refined sword aura he emanated. He was a prodigy of the Bladecrest clan—until he had been expelled. That humiliation drove his every thought and breath, a hunger for redemption etched in his bones.
Alex's eyes flared with determination as he stared down Leo. His grip on the hilt of his inherited weapon—the Lunar Phantom Sword—tightened. It was a blade wrapped in legacy, hidden away among the old remnants left behind by his late mother. Despite his exile, he had trained relentlessly, mastering the rare-grade Lunar Phantom Sword Art, a graceful and deadly sword style filled with mystery and illusion.
Maximus, the Sword Emperor himself, observed the battlefield from his special viewing deck with subtle interest. His eyes had already caught Rio's potential earlier, and now, though Alex's last fight had ended in humiliation, his interest was piqued. After all, Alex was a Bladecrest, regardless of what the clan may have decided. The potential lay within his bloodline, and the rare sword art he practiced was not something easily dismissed.
The announcer's voice rang out, booming through the stadium, "Semifinal Match: Leo Aetherwind versus Alex of the Bladecrest lineage!"
Cheers erupted, though some in the crowd exchanged skeptical glances. Many still remembered the bizarre manner of Alex's last victory. But now, facing Leo, the expectations had shifted. This was Leo Aetherwind, after all—the boy who had overwhelmed brute strength, agility, and sheer elemental power. The odds weren't in Alex's favor, but the match itself was undeniably tantalizing.
Alex, breathing heavily, clenched his fists tighter. "This is it," he whispered to himself. "I will defeat Leo, reclaim my pride, make Sophia and Selena fall for me… and break Roxanne free from Leo's clutches!" The delusion clouded his focus for a moment, painting fantasies of triumph in his mind.
On the other side, Leo cracked his knuckles, a light smirk dancing on his lips. He had seen through Alex's intentions long ago. That confident grin was enough to enrage Alex further. For Leo, this wasn't about love triangles or attention. It was a performance. This was another step in his journey toward true strength. He would give Maximus something to watch, a memory that would linger.
The gong echoed.
With an ear-piercing battle cry, Alex charged forward, his Lunar Phantom Sword gleaming with ethereal light. The blade pulsed with a cold silvery hue, trailing afterimages with every movement. He activated the first stance of his Lunar Phantom Sword Art, vanishing for a split second before reappearing behind Leo.
A dazzling crescent slash cut through the air.
But Leo didn't even flinch.
Clang!
He raised his forearm and parried the strike effortlessly with the side of his armguard, deflecting the momentum away from his body with such casual ease it almost seemed lazy.
Alex's eyes widened. "What…?"
He dashed back and shifted into the second stance—Moonlight Veil—splitting his form into three flickering illusions, all converging toward Leo in synchronized movements. The crowd gasped, unsure which was real. The Lunar Phantom Sword Art was famed for deception and deadly follow-ups. The afterimages danced like spirits beneath the night sky.
Leo, unfazed, closed his eyes briefly—then with a single, clean motion, spun and struck outward with an open palm.
Whoosh!
The illusions dissipated, and Alex was sent skidding back across the stage. A stunned silence fell. Not a single drop of sweat marred Leo's brow.
Alex's breathing grew heavier, but his rage deepened.
"Are you toying with me!?" he roared, voice cracking slightly.
Leo chuckled, but there was no malice in it. "No," he said plainly. "I'm warming up."
The words stung Alex more than any blade.
Alex leapt again, activating the third form of his technique—Phantom Bloom. Dozens of sword slashes erupted around Leo, forming a deadly net of mirrored strikes that threatened to slice him from all sides.
Dust exploded.
Everyone watched in tension. A moment passed. Then another.
The dust cleared.
Leo stood at the center, untouched. Around him, a dome of raw energy crackled, dispersing the remnants of Alex's technique. He hadn't even moved from his position.
Maximus leaned forward slightly in his seat, eyes sharpening.
Alex staggered back, gasping. "How… how are you this strong?"
Leo finally began to walk toward him, calm and precise, each step echoing.
Alex screamed and swung wildly, pouring everything into one final strike. The Lunar Phantom Sword exploded in radiance as he activated the fourth form—Moon Devourer, an attack meant to erase defenses entirely.
But Leo stepped aside at the last moment.
He tapped the hilt of Alex's blade.
Tap.
The force reverberated down the weapon and disarmed Alex with a clang. The blade skidded across the floor.
Leo stood inches from his rival, golden eyes glowing faintly.
"I don't need to defeat you," Leo said quietly. "You already lost to yourself."
Alex fell to his knees.
The moment Alex's sword art shifted, a new wave of tension filled the arena. The elegant yet deadly movements of his Lunar Phantom Sword Art shimmered with unpredictable power. Maximus, seated with arms crossed and gaze locked, narrowed his eyes. This was a rare grade sword art—one developed and passed through obscure channels, likely originating from Alex's maternal heritage. He had never seen it executed in such a passionate, if not desperate, way.
Alex's blade pulsed with a faint lunar glow, a shimmering mirage trailing behind each slash. His attacks became fluid, ethereal, and less predictable—his movements almost ghostlike as if he danced through mist. Each strike seemed to fade in and out of visibility, and to the untrained eye, Alex was no longer attacking with mere strength but wielding the blade like a phantom itself. Yet Leo, calm and composed, simply adjusted his stance and read the timing with uncanny precision.
The crowd held its collective breath as a barrage of ghostly slashes came for Leo, each one faster than the last. Leo raised his arm defensively and shifted subtly. Despite their mystique, each strike was evaded effortlessly. His feet moved with an unhurried grace, his body flowing like water around each oncoming cut.
Alex gritted his teeth, frustration flashing across his features. He poured more spiritual energy into his sword, the blade now crackling faintly with a silvery-blue arc that resembled moonlight turned to lightning. "Fight me seriously, Leo!" Alex shouted, his voice nearly cracking. "I'll take everything from you—Sophia, Selena, even Roxanne! You don't deserve them!"
Leo raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "You talk a lot during battle. Maybe that's why you keep losing."
Enraged, Alex pushed his body further, veins bulging, and his blade began splitting into phantom illusions—six images striking from six directions at once. The Lunar Phantom Sword Art had entered its second stance: Mirage Cascade. The audience gasped in awe at the spectacle, dazzled by the choreography of blade and speed. Even Maximus's expression sharpened with renewed attention.
But Leo didn't flinch. As the six phantoms descended, he closed his eyes momentarily, feeling the air shift around him. With uncanny calmness, he sidestepped the real blade, letting the illusions pass through him like wind. Before Alex could realize his failure, Leo countered with a single palm strike—light, but laced with pinpoint precision. It struck Alex's shoulder, breaking his stance entirely.
Alex was flung backward, sliding across the stage floor, barely managing to stay on his feet. He coughed violently, wiping a trace of blood from the corner of his mouth. The crowd erupted, but not in cheers—for a moment, they were stunned by how thoroughly Leo had handled the situation.
From the stands, Sophia's expression darkened. She had once admired Alex's swordsmanship, but now, watching Leo effortlessly dominate, she realized just how far apart the two had become.
Selena bit her lip. She had never wanted to admit it aloud, but Leo's presence was overwhelming, godlike in its command of the battlefield. She could see why Alex's obsession burned so deeply—it wasn't just jealousy. It was fear, inadequacy, and shattered pride.
"Damn you!" Alex shouted, rushing forward again. He unleashed another set of mirage strikes, each laced with greater fury, greater desperation. He combined footwork from his clan's foundational technique with his mother's rare sword art, trying to bridge the gap.
Leo exhaled slowly, this time raising his leg and delivering a sweeping crescent kick that disrupted the entire flow of Alex's form. A loud metallic clang echoed through the stadium as Alex's sword was knocked from his hand and flung several meters away, landing with a dull thud.
Alex froze, staring wide-eyed at his empty hand.
"You put on a decent show," Leo said coolly, walking forward. "But if you still think strength comes from yelling names and swinging harder, you've learned nothing."
The crowd remained silent as the match seemed all but decided. Maximus leaned forward slightly, lips twitching into something unreadable. Roxanne, despite her weakened state, sat up straighter in the audience. She had always thought of her brother Alex as a tragic rival to Rio, but Leo was an entirely different breed of monster.
Still shaking, Alex clenched his fists. "I'm not done!" he screamed, summoning every ounce of spiritual force he had left.
From his chest, a subtle shimmer appeared—a hidden technique? A seal? Something ancient and bound within his bloodline flared.
Leo's eyes narrowed. "Finally showing your last card?"
Alex roared, and from the shimmering mark, a translucent blade of moonlight began to form—his final secret, the Phantom Moon Severance, a forbidden move of his Lunar Art, one that sacrificed stability for raw annihilation.
"To hell with everything!" Alex howled. "This will be your end, Leo!"
The crowd gasped.
Leo merely sighed. "You're too predictable."
As Alex charged, blade roaring with ethereal energy, Leo closed the gap between them in a blink. With surgical precision, Leo raised two fingers and tapped the edge of the moonlight blade. The construct shattered mid-swing, dispersing into harmless wisps of light.
Then Leo delivered the final blow: a clean chop to the back of Alex's neck. Not deadly, not even brutal—just a gentle reminder of superiority.
Alex dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
The announcer's voice finally returned, shaky but clear.
"Winner: Leo!"
The crowd exploded into deafening cheers.
Maximus, from his seat, nodded once.
Leo turned away from the fallen Alex, eyes already shifting toward the final match.
The duel was over.