REINCARNATION OF THE STRONGEST WAR HERO
Chapter 52: CRACKS IN PRIDE

Chapter 52: CRACKS IN PRIDE

The crowd was buzzing with murmurs, disbelief, excitement, and chaotic anticipation which rippled through the arena like waves.

And amid that roaring energy, one figure lay unmoving on the stage.

Rovan Yale.

"Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT!" his thoughts screamed, blood pounding in his ears. Am I really going to lose to a kid? Can I live with that shame for the rest of my life?

He clenched his jaw, teeth grinding. What even is that strange gravity magic? Creating pressure suddenly is one thing—but to maintain it? And still keep fighting like nothing’s weighing him down? Is that even possible?

Rovan’s entire worldview was beginning to crack. He had been cautious of Logan earlier—but now, after those last two exchanges of blows, he was shaken more than he’d ever been in a match. More than even hearing Logan had three affinities.

Three affinities aren’t unheard of, Rovan reminded himself. But being a Tier 1 mage and still dominating a Tier 2 like me? That... that’s insane.

High in the noble balcony, Alice finally allowed herself to breathe. A smile slowly crept onto her face, soft and full of maternal pride.

Beside her, Rudeous remained calm and composed, arms crossed, but even his jaw had unclenched slightly.

Not everyone in House Smith shared their relief. Mirena and Darius sat pale-faced and silent, the life drained from their expressions. Mirena’s fingers clenched her silk fan so tightly it nearly cracked.

Meanwhile, in the viewing box, a trembling hand lost its grip on a wine glass.

CLINK!

The sound of shattering crystal rang sharp and final, cutting through the lingering tension like a knife.

Marquess Donald Yale had dropped his glass.

His face had gone ghostly white—as though he had just watched his legacy collapse.

The audience, still buzzing moments ago, fell into an eerie hush. Logan hadn’t just landed a few lucky hits.

He was dominating.

Rovan, lying on the stage, gritted his teeth. I can’t lose like this. I won’t. He stared up at the shimmering mana wards in the sky, then slowly forced himself to sit up.

I have to do something about that pressure...

Then—a spark of an idea.

His eyes widened.

Got it.

With great effort, he stood, his limbs protesting. Dust clung to his clothes, but he slapped them off with grim resolve.

From the upper balcony, Prince Rowan narrowed his eyes, watching intently.

"His pride won’t let him accept defeat," he murmured.

On the stage, Rovan glared at Logan.

"You were hiding a lot of strength," he spat. "Were you looking down on me this whole time? Thought I wasn’t worthy of your full power?"

Logan stared at him, silent for a beat. Then—he finally spoke.

"No," he said evenly. "You’re a worthy opponent. I was worried about this match. But as for hiding my strength..."

He tilted his head slightly.

"When did I ever say I only had two affinities?"

Rovan’s face twisted with rage. Veins bulged along his forehead. Logan’s words were true—but it didn’t make them easier to hear.

"Isn’t not telling the full information the same as hiding it?" Rovan growled through gritted teeth.

"Nope," Logan replied flatly, his expression calm.

"This is a duel. We are opponents. Can you expect your enemy to hand over a list of strengths and weaknesses before a battle so that you can strategise ahead? That’s not strategy. That’s stupidity."

Rovan’s fists trembled. His pride had taken enough blows for one day.

"Enough chit-chat," he growled. "Don’t think this is over just because you have three affinities."

With a roar, he charged again—but this time, he didn’t go straight.

The ground beneath him burst open, and an earth pillar shot diagonally upward, launching him into the air. Rovan leapt off mid-flight, twisting and diving toward Logan like a flaming meteor.

From his right hand, fire droplets began to pour down—thousands of them, like rain bursting from a broken sky.

Logan tried to sidestep, but suddenly earth barriers rose up on all four sides—trapping him.

The crowd gasped.

Due to Logan’s gravity domain, the fire droplets moved even faster—as if pulled downward with brutal acceleration. Their sheer velocity alone was enough to tear through weaker shields.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. He immediately released his gravity domain and cast a wide wind barrier to protect himself.

But Rovan’s barrage was powerful. Despite Logan’s skill, he was still only Tier 1. And Rovan was Tier 2.

Several fire droplets pierced through, crashing into Logan’s barrier and landing across his arms and shoulders. Smoke and flames erupted around him.

In the stands, the crowd held their breath.

They weren’t just watching a fight anymore.

This was a war.

Every movement. Every tactic. Each step, each spell—it was like watching chess with explosions.

"Damn, this is intense," someone whispered in the gallery. "My heart can’t take it."

"Even the last match feels dull compared to this," another muttered.

Even Lilith Starwind was leaning forward in the balcony, her face sharp with focus.

"That pervert sure is persistent," she muttered. "And that kid... I was right about him."

Her violet eyes sparkled with something rare—excitement.

On the stage, Logan’s body was covered with scorch marks. Smoke curled from his clothes, and his left arm trembled as he held up the barrier.

But he didn’t panic.

He clenched his right hand, focused mana into his palm, and then—with a burst of air—he punched through the wall.

BOOM!

A hole burst open in the earthen trap.

Logan dove through it, flipping mid-air, and landed lightly outside the ring of walls.

Across the field, Rovan landed again, dust rising around his boots.

His usual smirk returned.

"Not so tough anymore, are you?" he taunted. "But I’ll give you credit. You’re strong. Stronger than I expected. But this... this is where your journey ends."

He raised both arms.

The ground beneath him shook again.

Another earth pillar launched him upward. And this time—he created multiple walls, surrounding Logan in all directions mid-air, forming a death trap.

Logan narrowed his eyes. Sweat trickled down his temple.

What should I do now...?

The entire arena leaned forward as one.

Even the wind held its breath.

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