REINCARNATION OF THE STRONGEST WAR HERO
Chapter 61: HE IS REALLY TIER 3?!

Chapter 61: HE IS REALLY TIER 3?!

Audiences gasped, eyes wide, as Logan crossed the distance between him and Rowan in the blink of an eye. It happened so fast, many didn’t even see his movement—only the boom behind him and the blur that followed.

But before his punch could land, it was stopped mid-air.

A ripple of shock passed through the arena.

Logan’s eyes widened. Rowan had caught him by the wrist—effortlessly. His palm buzzed with lightning as well, meeting Logan’s force with equal energy.

The grip released a second later, and Logan reacted fast. He leapt back, landing smoothly.

"There goes your free chance. Next time you offer yourself to me like this, you won’t be this lucky," Rowan said, voice calm but firm.

Logan blinked, then looked at his wrist. He was genuinely surprised.

"Ready for the next round? Or are you planning on staying amazed the whole day?"

Logan snapped back into focus. Now wasn’t the time to be lost in thought. He dashed forward again, his fist crackling with lightning, repeating the same charge.

Rowan was ready—he intended to stop him just like before.

But the moment Logan came close, Rowan suddenly felt a crushing weight. A massive pressure wrapped around him. His knees nearly buckled under the unexpected force.

He tried to steady himself, but it was too late.

Logan’s punch landed squarely on Rowan’s chest, sending the prince flying backward.

But while he flew back, something puzzled him. The moment he moved a few meters away from Logan, the crushing pressure disappeared. It didn’t take long to realize—it was gravity magic.

The crowd gasped. Some even stood up in disbelief.

Rowan crashed hard onto the ground, sliding several feet before stopping.

Silence.

And then—

An explosion of cheers and murmurs.

"Damn it! That’s the only solid hit Prince Rowan has taken in this whole tournament!"

"Wait—did Logan just... overpower him?!"

"Was that just luck? Or is Logan actually going to win this?!"

"No way! That was a fluke. The Prince is gonna wipe the floor with him now."

Meanwhile, Rowan rose from the ground, brushing the dust from his cloak. His golden eyes weren’t angry—but focused. Intrigued.

"To be able to maintain gravity manipulation even while fighting... that’s truly what mastery is," he muttered to himself. "By the magical output, I can tell—he’s only Tier One. No fake signal. But..."

Rowan’s eyes narrowed slightly. "He’s holding back. I can see it. Just by looking in his eyes."

He raised his right hand slowly.

High above Logan, fireballs began to take shape in the sky—large, slow-forming spheres of condensed heat and destruction.

"Let’s see if it can help you loosen up a bit," he murmured.

The audience fell silent for a breath—and then erupted again.

"So he really is Tier 3?!"

"That’s Tier 3 magic? But how?"

"Don’t you see? He’s forming the spell away from himself. That’s only possible at Tier 3!"

"Wait—so Rovan was Tier 3 too? He summoned earth spikes from below Logan during the third round!"

"That’s different. Earth magic lets you cast from the terrain itself. But how far you can manipulate it—that’s what scales with your Tier."

"Wow... Earth magic is amazing then."

"It is. That’s why earth mages are known for solid defense."

"Still... Prince Rowan has already reached Tier 3 at this age. He’s truly the pride of our kingdom."

"He sure is."

Even in the noble balconies, conversations buzzed.

"All five semifinalists this year are truly remarkable," one elder said. "Each one bringing something unique."

"But the young prince... if he really reached Tier 3, that changes a lot."

"Indeed. That news is not small."

Down at the betting corner, Albert, who had been yelling odds nonstop all morning, was frozen.

His scrolls were untouched. The coins he’d been sorting sat forgotten in his hand.

The regular gamblers leaned in, eyes wide.

"Albert! Say something, damn it!"

"Who’s winning now?!"

"My bet was on a clean win for Rowan... but now..."

Albert exhaled slowly, eyes glued to the stage.

"...No idea," he muttered.

Back on the stage, Rowan brought down his hand—and the blazing fireballs fell like meteors.

A storm of flame hurtled toward Logan.

The arena held its breath again.

In the balcony, Alice’s fists clenched tightly.

On the stage, Logan raised his hand and tried to reverse the pressure using gravity again. He attempted to push the fireballs away—

But the might of Rowan’s attack was overwhelming.

He was a Tier 1 mage—this kind of pressure wasn’t something he was built to block.

The fireballs hit the ground hard.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Explosions rocked the stage. Dust and fire spread out like a blazing tide.

Amidst the chaos, Logan was a blur—running, dodging, weaving through the collapsing terrain.

But Rowan wasn’t done.

Just as the firestorm peaked, lightning flashes zipped across the field, racing toward Logan like angry serpents.

He dodged the first. And the second.

But the third struck him square in the side.

Logan flew like a ragdoll across the field—this time, visibly hurt.

He crashed near the edge of the arena, skidding to a stop.

In the balcony, Alice’s hands trembled.

Rudeous reached over and held them firmly.

"Have some backbone, Alice," he said, gently but firmly. "Logan isn’t a puppy. He’s our son. And if you act like that every time he gets hit, it’ll shackle his growth. We need to have faith in him."

He looked down at the arena with pride in his eyes. "You don’t want our son to grow up as a weakling, do you?"

Alice didn’t respond. But her eyes stayed locked on Logan’s motionless body, worry etched across her face.

Back on the stage, Rowan took a deep breath and spoke.

"Your gravity manipulation was truly worthy of praise," he said. "What do you think about my fire blast?"

He wasn’t taunting. He wasn’t showing off.

Rowan knew how dangerous that attack was. Most opponents under twenty would’ve turned to ash under that barrage.

But Logan?

Logan was different.

That’s what Rowan was trying to understand.

That’s what he wanted to test.

And Logan... hadn’t disappointed him.

In fact, he’d impressed him enough to force both of Rowan’s affinities into play. To test Logan even further.

"How was it?"

Rowan’s tone was steady, but curious.

Logan smiled faintly, wiping a bit of dust from his lip.

That sentence could’ve sounded like provocation. But Logan could feel it clearly.

It wasn’t.

Rowan wasn’t gloating. He was asking.

He wanted to know—

Was that enough? Was it finally a real challenge?

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