REINCARNATION OF THE STRONGEST WAR HERO
Chapter 50: THE 4TH QUARTERFINAL

Chapter 50: THE 4TH QUARTERFINAL

The whole arena felt like it was holding its breath.

All eyes turned toward the stage as the magical panels hovering in the air shimmered with new text:

Quarterfinal Match 4: Logan Smith vs. Rovan Yale

A hushed silence fell over the noble balcony, thick with anticipation.

Alice clutched the edge of her seat, her knuckles pale. "Logan..." she breathed, heart thundering—from the fear of uncertainty. Logan had already won the earlier two matches. Though hard-fought, he had managed to pull through. But this... this opponent was different. Rovan was not just strong. He was talented.

Beside her, Rudeous stood still, arms crossed, but his gaze was heavy. He wasn’t just a father now—he was the head of House Smith, and every noble present would weigh his son’s performance. The pressure sat on his shoulders like a mountain.

Even Mirena, ever composed, had gone still. Her fan hung forgotten in her lap. She said nothing, but the twitch of her lips and furrowed brows gave her away. This match was important—but it wasn’t just about Logan or House Smith. For Mirena, this battle was about her son Darius’s future. If Logan won, Darius’s path to becoming patriarch would no longer be guaranteed.

In the lower tiers, the crowd erupted into shouts and gasps.

"That’s the 12-year-old kid! The one who defeated Varn! Another talent who awakened two affinities before fourteen."

"Yes. And he beat Lira Wynn too! No one knows how he survived her last spell though... but still... he’s a real talent for sure. Maybe not quite at the level of Lilith, Zephyr, Morgan, or Prince Rowan—but almost there."

"Yeah, but Rovan’s a monster! Fire and earth. Tier Two—he might crush the poor kid!"

From the right side of the platform, Logan Smith stepped forward under everyone’s gaze and continuous murmur.

He looked the same as always—calm, quiet, unreadable. No swirling mana. No dramatic entrance. Just a boy in a black cloak walking toward the center like he belonged there.

From the left, Rovan Yale entered with heat rippling off his body. Fire flickered along his shoulders, and his steps cracked the stone beneath him. Flame-shaped earrings glinted at his ears, and his crimson cloak billowed with every stride. His grin was cocky, but his eyes—sharp and focused—lingered too long on Logan.

He remembered the boy’s last two matches. He’d studied them. And while he tried to look confident, something in him whispered caution.

"Another quiet noble brat, huh?" Rovan muttered, stretching his neck. "Let’s see how long that calm lasts." He tried to bury his discomfort beneath smugness.

The announcer’s voice cut through the tension.

"Quarterfinal Match Four.

Three!

Two!

One!

BEGIN!"

Rovan moved first—no hesitation.

He slammed his palms into the ground. A trail of fire burst forward, followed by a jagged wave of rising stone. A molten boulder took shape and hurtled toward Logan like a cannonball.

Gasps echoed across the arena.

Logan didn’t panic—and he didn’t immediately react either.

He raised a hand—focused, measured—and unleashed a bolt of lightning that shattered the flaming rock mid-air.

But he took a step back afterward. That one spell had taken more out of him than expected.

Rovan grinned.

"Thought you were tougher."

He lunged, flames dancing across his fists, earth pulsing under his boots as he charged.

Logan shifted to dodge—but too late.

A flaming punch grazed his shoulder. The heat singed his cloak and staggered him.

He winced.

The crowd roared.

"He got hit!"

"See? I told you. He might be strong, but he’s nothing compared to freaks like Rovan!"

In the noble balcony, Alice tensed. "He’s losing. His opponent is really strong..."

Rudeous narrowed his eyes. He still wasn’t concerned—because he and Alice both knew what Logan was capable of. It’s just that revealing too much could attract unwanted attention. But Alice wasn’t in the right mindset to think rationally. All she saw was her son being pushed back.

Rovan continued with his attacks. Stone spikes burst from the floor. Logan jumped, spinning mid-air, launching a gust of wind beneath him for lift.

It wasn’t enough.

A blast of fire clipped his leg mid-spin, and he hit the ground hard, sliding back.

Though Logan was a rare talent with five affinities, he was still only a Tier 1 mage. And only using two of his affinities to fight against Rovan was like trying to fight a battle with half a sword—powerful, but not nearly enough.

"Come on!" Rovan shouted, charging again. "That all you’ve got?"

Logan gritted his teeth and rolled aside just before a molten fist struck the stone where he’d landed.

He stood slowly, panting.

His lightning flickered. His air magic hissed around his feet. But the crowd could tell—he was being pushed back.

In the noble tier, Marquess Yale allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk.

Mirena leaned forward slightly with hope. "Is... is he going to lose?"

Alice whispered, "He’s hurt..."

But Logan’s eyes stayed steady.

Even through the bruises and burns.

He was calm—calculating his next moves.

Not arrogant.

Focused.

Rovan attacked again, sending a shockwave through the ground. Logan leapt, barely clearing the blast. As he landed, he coughed once. A flicker of pain crossed his face.

"I didn’t want to use this," he murmured to himself. "But I’m still not strong enough... Fighting a Tier Two dual-affinity mage with only two Tier One affinities is reckless."

He clenched his fists.

And then...

Something shifted.

Not something one could see—but something that could be felt.

The ground beneath him cracked—not from a spell—but from pressure.

Wind halted.

Flames bent unnaturally toward him.

Even Rovan froze mid-step.

"What the hell...?"

Logan looked up.

His eyes didn’t shine—they pulled.

Heavy.

Like staring into a storm that hadn’t yet broken.

Rudeous exhaled in relief and leaned against his seat. "So... he decided to let loose a bit more—"

Alice’s voice wavered with hope. "Now it should be alright, right?"

Lilith leaned forward with anticipation.

The judges all stood. Even the Archmage among them narrowed his eyes.

Rovan took a step back subconsciously.

His mind was buzzing. He didn’t want to believe what was happening before his eyes.

But... reality isn’t what we want to believe.

"You... you’ve got three affinities...?"

To be continued...

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