Ancestral Lineage
Chapter 324 - 324: Undisputed Strongest First Year (2)

The arena shifted again, the scorched tiles from Lith's battle folding back and retreating, replaced by smooth stone etched with vine and root designs—an environment ideal for the next fighter.

The announcement came next:

"Next battle—Lois Vinefall of the Monk Division versus Radar of the Forger Division!"

Cheers erupted, mostly from Monk students. Lois was popular—an elf with grace, speed, and a mastery over plant-based God-Arts that made her a constant contender for one of the top first-year spots. Dressed in flowing blue robes with silver-threaded hems, she stepped lightly onto the stage, barefoot and serene. Her long green hair flowed behind her like trailing leaves.

Radar followed next, drawing far fewer cheers. His appearance was less elegant, more… grounded. His long white Forger shirt was already sweat-stained, and his black trousers were dusty. His boots thudded with a heavy rhythm, his breathing just slightly uneven—not from fear, but exertion. Still, he wore a determined expression beneath his wild green hair and short black horns.

He was a dwarf, and dwarves rarely dueled.

Professor Felicia raised a brow in the observation booth. "Interesting matchup," she said.

"Begin!"

Lois was first to move. She slammed her foot into the ground, her palms forming a lotus seal.

"Vine Shackles!"

From the arena floor, twisting vines shot up like snakes, lashing toward Radar. They moved fast—too fast for someone his size.

But Radar didn't flinch.

He slammed his palms into the ground. "Mud Pit."

A brown kite-shaped Artim symbol shimmered beneath him, pulsing deeply with earthy energy. The arena floor beneath both fighters instantly softened, liquefying into a deep, muddy sinkhole.

"Wha—?" Lois gasped as her vines began to drown in the sludge, losing cohesion. She leapt back, but the mud extended unnaturally fast, trying to pull her in.

Radar wasn't done.

"Sand Storm."

Another Artim appeared—this time golden-brown, shimmering as grains of sand lifted from the very walls of the arena. They gathered in a spiraling storm around Radar, kicking up violently and obscuring him from view.

Lois growled, flipping through the air and stabbing her hands into the floor.

"Blooming Spiral!"

A massive green lotus burst from the ground, shooting beams of focused plant energy that sliced through the storm. The petals acted like buzzsaws, each laced with hardened bark. One of them grazed Radar's shoulder, drawing blood.

He staggered—barely.

From within the storm, Radar growled, "Heavy... dammit..." but pushed forward.

He emerged—dirty, bloodied, but smiling.

"I warned you," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

He raised both arms. The sand storm compressed above her, turning to stone daggers and slamming down.

BOOM!

Lois leapt—but too late. The edge of the storm caught her, slamming her into the ground. She gasped, eyes wide, and didn't move.

Silence.

The referee hesitated—then raised a hand. "Lois Vinefall is unable to continue. Victory: Radar!"

The crowd was dead silent for a beat.

Then—

"What the hell?"

"He beat Lois?!"

"Who even is he?"

Even Vorden raised an eyebrow in quiet surprise. Lith, watching from the waiting hall, smirked faintly. "Not bad, Radar…"

Lois groaned from the ground, blinking up at Radar.

"I guess… you're not just a Forger after all," she said weakly.

Radar grinned as he collapsed onto one knee, barely staying upright. His hands trembled from effort. The golden button at his waist shimmered faintly, releasing an unseen weight.

No one noticed.

Not yet.

But they would.

Soon.

The crowd in the viewing gallery still buzzed with disbelief. Whispers spread like wildfire through students and instructors alike.

"He beat Lois.""A Forger, no less.""Did you see the earth manipulation? And that storm? That's not normal…"

From the instructor's booth, Professor Felicia leaned forward, narrowing her eyes behind her circular glasses. "There's something different about him…" she muttered.

Beside her, Master Oltan—the Head Advisor and Radar's master—hid a small smile beneath his thick beard. "He's only just begun," he said softly, arms crossed. "Let them sleep on him a little longer."

Back on the dueling floor, Lois sat on a stretcher, attended by two medics who checked her bruises. She waved them off gently and stood, walking toward Radar, who sat at the edge of the arena with his head bowed and hands planted on his knees.

"Radar," she called gently.

He looked up. Sweat dripped freely from his chin, his breath still short. "Huh?"

She offered a respectful nod. "Thank you… for the fight. I underestimated you."

Radar blinked. "Uh… thanks?" He sounded confused by the praise.

Lois smiled. "You're strong. And you fight like the earth itself—quiet, heavy… and impossible to stop once it moves."

Radar stared for a second, then gave an awkward chuckle. "That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me…"

She turned and walked away, leaving the audience murmuring in renewed awe.

In the student seating area, Vorden leaned on the railing beside Lith. "He did well. Even with the weight still on."

Lith nodded slightly. "He's finally getting used to it."

Kyle, bouncing beside them with his usual feline energy, grinned wide. "Radar's gonna be famous now!"

Radar, meanwhile, stood slowly and walked toward the tunnel exit. A few students stepped out of his way. Not mockingly. Not cautiously.

Respectfully.

He didn't notice.

But Vorden did.

"The King of Earth is starting to stir," he thought.

...

DUEL: VORDEN VS. ALMA

The arena was filled with a tense hush, one born from the weight of expectation. Two Paladins. First-years. Monsters in human skin.

Above, the magical display shimmered again:

VORDEN VS. ALMA

A collective gasp swept the stands. Even the instructors sat up straighter.

From the eastern gate, Vorden emerged, his black and gold uniform glinting beneath the enchanted lights. The Paladin crest blazed across his chest, and with each step he took, the shadows beneath him twitched unnaturally, stretching and folding like eager beasts. His face was unreadable—calm, focused, almost serene.

From the opposite side, Alma walked in, her presence like the cold bite of high-altitude wind. Her silver-white hair flowed behind her, untouched by gravity, and the air bent around her, reacting to her presence. The Paladin uniform sat crisp on her figure, the twin swords at her waist humming softly. Her deep blue eyes, slit like a falcon's, narrowed as she spotted her opponent.

"Vorden," she muttered, almost to herself.

The referee raised a hand.

"Begin!"

CLASH

A shockwave blasted from the center as Alma launched forward. No fanfare. No delay. Wind Saber surged to life, twin blades glowing emerald, cutting spirals through the air. She was a tempest—fast, brutal, and utterly merciless.

Vorden dodged the first barrage by an inch, his body vanishing into a smudge of pure shadow.

Alma didn't stop. She anticipated the vanish. With a flick of her wrist, she spun midair, slicing downward and splitting the floor with her wind-forged blade. A gale burst from the impact, forcing Vorden to reappear—gritting his teeth from the sudden blow.

He summoned Dark Mantle, a swirling obsidian cloak of living shadow covering him. It shimmered like oil, absorbing the brunt of her follow-up.

Then—BOOM!—Vorden disappeared again, his figure splintering into fragmented silhouettes.

Alma whirled around, reacting with blinding speed, her wind flaring defensively—but not fast enough.

Vorden's katana emerged from a rift of shadow behind her.

She ducked—barely avoiding a slash that would've ended it all—and retaliated with a Cyclone burst, sending Vorden flying across the stage, his boots tearing trenches in the ground as he skidded.

From the stands, students shouted in disbelief.

"She's insane!"

"She's toying with him!"

But Vorden rose.

And smiled.

ROUND TWO

The battle escalated.

Vorden moved like a wraith—blinking from shadow to shadow, his katana carving arcs of darkness, his presence vanishing with every step. Alma countered with storm-speed, her double blades moving so fast they became blurs, her Wind Saber skill expanding with each pass.

They moved faster than most could track. The air screamed. The arena trembled.

Alma leapt into the air, both swords above her head, summoning a mammoth cyclone around her.

"Fall!" she roared.

She came down like a descending god.

Vorden didn't flinch.

He vanished into her shadow.

A moment of silence.

Then—CRACK!

The protective arena barrier—a construct meant to withstand the attacks of First Years—shuddered, a spiderweb of fractures dancing along its surface.

The force of the collision sent Alma crashing sideways, her wind dispersed.

And standing behind her, katana outstretched and breath steady—was Vorden.

Alma hit the ground hard, tumbling with grace but unable to fully recover. Her right sword slipped from her grasp.

She tried to rise—her hair wild, her eyes burning—but the shadow tendrils from Vorden's cloak had already wrapped around her ankles, pinning her just long enough.

He stood before her, his blade pointed down. Not at her. But at the ground.

He didn't attack again.

The referee's voice rang out:

"Match over! Victory—Vorden!"

A moment of stunned silence.

Then the crowd erupted into disbelief.

Alma rose slowly, shadows falling away as she shook them off. Her expression wasn't of shame or anger. It was frost.

She didn't look at Vorden.

Didn't shake his hand.

Didn't say "good fight."

She merely muttered as she passed him by, her voice cold as steel:

"I will not lose to a human again."

And she was gone.

Vorden watched her leave, his face as calm as ever, though a faint flicker of… something crossed his eyes.

From the stands, Lith whistled low.

"Damn. She wanted his head."

Kyle leaned forward. "He beat a Paladin. No—he beat her. And cracked the barrier doing it."

Radar said nothing. He just stared at Vorden with growing awe.

Shadow Tyrant, they had called him.

Now?

That name began to feel like an understatement.