Anomaly of Fate
Chapter 88: Clash! Battle Between Heirs

Chapter 88: Clash! Battle Between Heirs

Mikhail pointed his gun toward Alistair with a casual stance, despite the tension crackling in the air. A smirk tugged at his lips as he tilted his head slightly.

"You really don’t want to talk this out instead?"

Alistair didn’t respond. He was already moving, surging forward with explosive speed, his massive claymore cleaving through the air with deadly precision.

Mikhail scoffed, stepping back just as he squeezed the trigger.

"Too slow, asshole!"

BAM!

The shot rang out, and with it, a streak of compressed energy burst from the barrel. The magic-infused bullet cut through the air, racing toward its target in a blink. Alistair reacted instantly, bringing his claymore up in a sharp, practiced motion. Steel met energy with a resounding crack, the force of impact sending a pulse through the battlefield.

The sheer force behind the bullet disrupted Alistair’s momentum, pushing him back several feet. He gritted his teeth, slamming his blade into the ground to stop himself from sliding further.

Mikhail didn’t waste time.

Another shot.

BAM!

This time, Alistair didn’t block. He twisted to the side, evading the bullet by a hair’s breadth. The round slammed into the ground behind him, kicking up dust and stone. He launched forward without hesitation, carving his blade in a brutal arc as he closed the distance between them.

"Tch!"

Mikhail clicked his tongue in frustration, already moving. He barely twisted out of the way as the claymore sliced past, the gust of displaced air ruffling his coat. In retaliation, he pivoted on his heel, bringing his firearm up again at point-blank range.

Alistair moved first.

A gauntleted hand lashed out, aiming to grab Mikhail’s wrist. He barely managed to jerk away, the fingers grazing his sleeve instead of locking around his arm. But that brief moment of disruption was enough.

Alistair drove his knee forward.

Mikhail barely had time to brace before the hit connected, the sheer force sending him stumbling back. He sucked in a sharp breath, with his ribs protesting the impact.

"Alright, you bastard..." he muttered, rolling his shoulder. "You wanna play rough?"

He slammed a fresh round into his gun, the chamber glowing with an ominous hum.

Alistair didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward again, his claymore poised to strike.

"Fuck you!" Mikhail fired.

This time, the bullet wasn’t just a simple magic round—it detonated upon impact. The moment Alistair swung his claymore to intercept, the force of the explosion sent another shockwave across the battlefield, shrouding the arena in dust.

And in that instant, Mikhail vanished from sight.

The arena was thick with dust, swirling like a storm of shattered stone and smoke. Then—another gunshots rang out.

BAM! BAM!

A sharp, resounding crack, followed immediately by an eruption of even thicker dust—no, not just dust. Smoke.

The dark veil obscured nearly everything within the battlefield, swallowing movement, masking intent. The crowd murmured in anticipation, watching as the battlefield disappeared beneath the thick gray fog.

And then, a figure emerged—not from the smoke, but above it.

Alistair leapt high, cutting through the air like a predator surveying its prey. His boots landed atop the nearest corner railing of the arena, a high vantage point where he could look down on the battlefield. His gaze swept over the dense smokescreen, sharp and calculating.

Stillness—

A flicker of movement.

Alistair reacted instantly.

With a powerful leap, he launched himself toward the disturbance with his claymore raised high. Wind howled around him as he descended, bringing the massive blade down in a devastating arc.

Steel met fabric.

The heavy slash tore through the long coat, cleaving it in half, but the weight behind it found nothing. No body. No resistance. Only empty cloth fluttering in the air before it was carried away by the dust and smoke.

It was a feint.

His feet barely met the ground before something whistled through the air.

A projectile.

It tore through the smoke, heading straight for him. Alistair’s eyes widened—a split-second too late.

The shot struck true. A direct hit.

The crowd erupted. Gasps, screams, cheers—a cacophony of noise filled the arena. It wasn’t just because Mikhail had landed a clean shot.

It was because, for the first time in this entire event, the red-haired noble had actually been hit.

***

The crowd in the arena was wild with energy, their voices blending into an overwhelming storm of cheers and shouts. Some roared in support of Mikhail, astonished that someone had finally managed to land a blow on the seemingly untouchable Alistair. Others, perhaps loyalists to House Rhaegis or simply admirers of the red-haired noble, shouted in outrage, calling for him to retaliate.

Velren, however, was simply enjoying the spectacle.

If only he had the proper snacks in hand, this would’ve been perfect entertainment! An all-out battle between two of the top five first-year students of a prestigious academy—what more could you ask for?

He had already witnessed Mikhail’s skill firsthand, back when they were dealing with the Kaovus that had ambushed them. Back then, he had been in the middle—or rather—away of the mess, too focused on keeping track of everything to properly appreciate Mikhail’s ability. But now, with no tension weighing him down, he could actually enjoy the show.

And then there was Alistair.

The noble who had reached first place in the entrance exam. And he had done so without a partner.

Velren had always been curious about that. Curious about the kind of strength it took to single-handedly dominate an exam designed for teams.

And now, watching the two of them clash, watching them push each other, Velren couldn’t help but grin.

’This was just getting good!’

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes reflecting the battlefield below. The battle wasn’t over yet—far from it. If anything, Mikhail landing a hit had just turned the fight into something even more interesting. Alistair wouldn’t take that lying down. The next exchange would be even more intense.

The energy in the crowd rose, people standing up from their seats in anticipation. Bets were being shouted, voices arguing back and forth over who would come out on top.

"This is definitely worth the credit!"

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