Genius Noble With System
Chapter 225: Ten victories

Chapter 225: Ten victories

Yet Galix, the eighth prince of the Empire of Sacred Elements, held his ground with equal tenacity. His control over the Law of Five Elements brought a fluid, formidable force that resisted Zazel’s light like a force of nature.

Both the princes were extremely strong, as not only did they seem to have reached early half-god level, but their strength was beyond their ranks, making the battle eye-opening for most of the trialists.

They didn’t want to waste time, so they brought out their strongest attacks, aiming to end the battle in a single confrontation.

As the battle reached its peak, both princes unleashed power that left the onlookers awestruck. Zazel’s brilliance intensified, the golden wings on his back fanning out with a fierce, radiant glow that seemed to melt the air around him.

With a commanding shout, he channelled all his energy into a colossal lance of light, its tip shimmering with the potency of a small sun. He had no intention of holding back—this was a strike to end it all.

"Lance of light."

Galix, undaunted, summoned the full might of the Law of Five Elements. Swirling around him, each element—earth, water, fire, air, and ether—melded together into a vast, chaotic storm.

"Five elements of divine light."

Galix also didn’t hold the famous divine ability of the Five Elements Sacred Empire.

The arena trembled as Galix unleashed his ultimate technique, "Five Elements Divine Light." His command rippled through the battlefield, igniting a vortex of raw elemental power that encased him in a blinding aura of shifting colours.

The crowd was hushed, spellbound by the intensity of the duel between the two princes. Neither Zazel nor Galix had any intention of yielding; this was a duel meant to define not only their own strengths but also the honour of their empires.

The impact was instantaneous, a cataclysmic clash of light and elements that seemed to rupture the very layers of space around them. A deafening roar filled the arena as arcs of pure light and streaks of elemental power shot in every direction, forming a storm of opposing forces.

The trialists watched in awe, barely able to comprehend the level of understanding on display. The sheer power radiating from the clash sent shockwaves through the stands, forcing many to shield their faces.

The two princes stood locked in this fierce confrontation, pouring every ounce of their strength into their techniques, as the Lance of Light clashed against the Divine Light of the Five Elements in a stalemate that shook the arena’s very foundations.

With one final, desperate push, both princes unleashed a surge of energy that sent a blinding explosion rippling outward. The collision created a shockwave that resonated like thunder, the arena enveloped in a torrent of blinding radiance.

As the dust began to settle, it was Zazel who emerged from the blinding chaos, battered and exhausted, but still standing. His golden wings, though frayed and dimmed from the strain, flared one last time in a dazzling burst of light, dispelling the remnants of the elemental vortex. The crowd held its breath, eyes fixed on the two princes, waiting for any sign of the outcome.

Galix staggered, his form wavering as the protective storm of his Five Elements Divine Light faltered. In a final act of defiance, he took a step forward, his eyes burning with resolve, but his body betrayed him, buckling as he fell to one knee.

Zazel, equally drained but fueled by the intensity of his empire’s pride, took a slow, deliberate step forward, lifting his ’Lance of Light,’ now dimmed but still intact.

The crowd erupted into cheers and gasps, the magnitude of the victory sending waves of exhilaration through the trialists and spectators alike. Zazel had won by the narrowest of margins—a single breath. But in that instant, it was enough.

The clash between the two empires had come to a conclusion, if only for this moment, and Zazel stood as the victor.

Even Apollo, watching from the sidelines, couldn’t help but feel the weight of Zazel’s resolve. He knew that a fraction of hesitation or weakness would have meant Galix’s triumph, and yet Zazel had held on.

This was a testament to Zazel’s unbreakable spirit, a reminder of the razor-thin line between victory and defeat in the world of gods and warriors.

After this exciting battle, a few more intense battles appeared, as maybe it was the last battle before they joined the Sky Tower, so the opponents were stronger.

And quickly his turn came; he was looking at the last battle, usually with his trouble attracting luck; he should face some strong opponent.

So he was expecting it to be a strong opponent, but when his challenger appeared, his hopes were immediately shattered. His opponent was unexpectedly a beastman—not from a powerful tribe, but from the mole clan. Yes, a mole, who likes to dig.

Seeing this he couldn’t help but feel weird; could it be he didn’t have the same aura of protagonists to attract trouble, but that shouldn’t be; he did many times face unknown danger. Could it be his luck returning to normal?

On the other side, the Mole beastman was both angry and frustrated. His luck was terrible—he had to face Apollo. But what made it worse was the nonchalant expression on Apollo’s face. Though he knew he wasn’t as famous as Apollo, he felt he didn’t deserve to be looked down upon.

"Begin."

The mole beastman attacked instantly, not caring about anything else. But just as he got close to Apollo, the world seemed to spin. And the last thing he remembered was being sent flying out of the arena before he lost consciousness.

The battle ended almost before it began. As soon as the Mole beastman launched himself toward Apollo, he barely had a chance to blink before Apollo’s hand shot forward with a controlled burst of energy. Apollo’s precise strike struck the beastman squarely in the chest, the force both immense and restrained, ensuring his opponent was defeated without killing him.

The Mole beastman flew backwards, his body twisting midair before he tumbled out of the arena.

Apollo stood still, barely moving from his original position, his expression unreadable as he watched the mole beastman’s quick defeat.

He silently teleported out of the arena while the crowd wasn’t surprised but disappointed, as it seemed Apollo’s opponent wasn’t strong enough to bring out his strength.

But it didn’t matter, as his master and others quickly congratulated him on winning his tenth battle and securing his place in the Sky Tower. Nearby trialists, though unfamiliar with him, also congratulated him eagerly, trying to establish a closer connection.

Apollo nodded in thanks to each congratulatory word, his gaze calm as he accepted the attention with his usual composure. Master Aaron was the first to reach him, clapping a hand on Apollo’s shoulder, his pride evident. "Well done, Apollo. Tenth win, and with ease."

Apollo offered a faint smile. "Not the challenge I’d expected, but it’s over," he replied, his eyes subtly scanning the crowd of trialists who had gathered around.

Many of them wore expressions of admiration, their intent clear—they sought to earn Apollo’s favour, knowing his strength and reputation could be invaluable allies in the unknown awaiting them within the Sky Tower.

Although he kept a polite distance, Apollo accepted their congratulations, his aura composed and enigmatic. He understood the value of cultivating alliances, even as he kept his true strength carefully hidden.

After this, the battles continued. His master, the pussy king, and mistress also fought, thankfully winning their tenth matches and joining him among the victors. The battles went on until the final trialists secured their tenth and final victory.

Boom!

The moment the last battle ended, a massive black tear appeared in the space above them. Slowly, dozens of mysterious figures emerged, looking down at them with calm, expressionless faces.

But they weren’t all strangers; they were the same mighty figures the trialists had seen at the start of this final test.

The figures remained standing in the sky, saying nothing, making the already eerie place even more silent. No one dared to speak. All the trialists waited in silence until a massive, throne-like chair appeared in the centre of the sky.

The throne appeared gradually, almost as if emerging from a very unknown mysterious depth. Dark, swirling shadows formed its outline, solidifying into a seat of imposing stature. Its surface was adorned with ancient, intricate runes that pulsed faintly with a power that made even the bravest trialists hesitate to look directly at it.

Seated upon the throne was a figure cloaked in silver robes with only black eyes that seemed to see the depth and secrets of everything in the world.

A heavy silence blanketed the arena as the figure raised a single, gloved hand. Every gaze was drawn to him, every breath held in anticipation. Finally, a voice emerged, deep and echoing, filling the minds of the trialists as if bypassing sound altogether.

"Congratulations," he intoned, his voice resonating with a quiet but undeniable authority. "You have passed the first trials and earned your right to join the Sky Tower. But know that this journey has only begun."