Suddenly, a single tear cut a clean line through the dust on Laurent’s face. He was crying, though he didn't even seem to notice.
“Noll…” Laurent said, looking at the boy barely standing before him. “You are the ultimate wall. But even walls like you have cracks. It’s automatic. That makes it predictable. It relies on intent.”
He held up two fingers, pinching the air as if holding a tiny, fragile object.
“0.2 seconds. That’s the window. If two consecutive attacks happen within this tight window, one of them will squeeze right through. Practically impossible to notice… unless you’ve spent your entire life fighting up close.”
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“If you patch those cracks... I will gladly come back to break in again.”
He slammed his fist to the chest, right over his heart.
“But for now... The result of this battle doesn’t interest me anymore. I will cherish you in my heart!”
“Does that mean you will finally stop fighting my prey?” Illian got past him, looking at Noll.
Laurent turned around, looking at X. “When have I not kept my word?”
Noll stood up, his legs shaking. His breathing was heavy, as his hand clutched the side of his body.
The glove on his left hand was torn, revealing the prosthetic underneath, no matter how much Noll tried to hide it.
The audience gasped, their faces twisting in anger. Everyone saw it. Tech. Heresy.
“I see we have a Heretic here.” Illian chimed in, his head high. “This took a turn. From a simple breaking and entering to heresy.”
He looked around the audience and saw him. Kadyn Francis. “Lord Francis. Give me permission to slay the heretic.”
Kadyn’s face remained stoic. “No.” his voice was heavy with authority. “The rules cannot be broken; you may not kill him. Incapacitate him. He needs to answer some questions.”
He left the stadium, whispering under his breath. “And Satoru too.”
X rushed to his side, only for Laurent to block his way.
“Nuh-uh.” He smiled. “I ain’t letting you help him. You were already charged with conspiracy against Altavia. Now we have proof.”
X swung the sword with one hand, Laurent blocked with his, creating a ringing sound of metal hitting metal.
Laurent closed his eyes, enjoying the sound. When he opened, X’s hand was already on his face.
Laurent turned himself into steel, increasing the mass by eight times.
The floor beneath X’s boots cracked as he took the load. With a grunt of exertion, he ignored the laws of physics, lifting the half-ton man by the face. He didn't just throw him; he drove him down.
CRUNCH. The arena floor didn't just crack; it caved in.
Laurent’s weight did most of X’s job, crashing the ground into a crater.
And because Laurent was rigid steel, there was no flesh to absorb the shock. The vibration had nowhere to go but straight into his internal organs.
“Twice the pride, double the fall.” He leaned closely, whispering. “Or, in your case, eightfold.” X flipped his sword with one hand, catching it by the blade, and swung it, hitting Laurent’s head with a cross guard.
The sound of steel clashing rang out like a church bell, vibrating in the silence of the arena.
The sheer force sent Laurent flying, as he clutched the side of his head. He felt something hot running down his hand. The sound of liquid dropping on the floor made him look down.
A red stain looked back.
“Is that… blood? MY BLOOD?” The shriek that followed was so ugly that everyone in the audience covered their ears.
But then he laughed.
“You guys just won’t stop surprising me. If Noll is the Unbreakable Wall, then you are a spiked Wall. But even spikes get flattened if you hit them hard enough!”
X didn’t answer. He just smiled shifting his weight in a weird position.
Laurent’s eyebrows shot up. He was no swordsman, but even he could tell there is something wrong with that pose. It looked deliberately wrong. There was no anatomical sense. Like an insult to the body itself.
His entire posture was a contradiction. His right hand held the sword high over his shoulder, while his left dangled uselessly like a broken marionette. Legs looked crooked.
Illian was looking at those two from afar. His face held no emotion, as now he doesn’t have to deal with either brute.
He looked back at Noll, still breathing heavily, still barely standing.
“Pathetic Heretic. At least stand properly. It wouldn’t be glorious for me if I defeat you. That would look like Laurent did all the work.”
But Noll wasn’t listening. He was fighting his own battles in his mind.
“Come on… kill him.” Emma whispered, her arms draping over his shoulders. The weight wasn't physical, yet it threatened to crush his spine.
“No!” Noll screamed internally. “I am not killing him! That would only add to my sentence.”
“Are you scared of prison? Wouldn’t be your first time there…” she embraced him, placing her fingers on his head.
Noll’s mind was flooded with memories of a distant past. A past he wanted to forget. He saw himself, a child, sitting behind bars, with a static face. Like a broken recorder, the child kept repeating one word.
“Mom?”
The vision cut. And he saw a figure in blue. He was staring at her back.
Then, the woman turned. Young Noll ran up to her, tears streaming from his eyes. When he looked up. He saw it. The woman had no face. The blur looked like someone smudged the painting with water.
Noll couldn’t remember the face of his mother.
Then, the image fluctuated. The dress’s color turned pink and in the place of his mother’s face, Noll saw Emma.
“STOP!!” he shrieked, closing his eyes. The metaphorical weight was lifted.
When he opened them, he was back at the arena. Illian looked at him with confusion. Everyone in the stadium looked at him with a mix of pity and disgust.
Noll felt the wetness on his face.
“Okay.” Illian raised his hands, smiling. “I will stop.”
Noll grabbed his chest, breathing fast and wet. His pupils were dilated as they moved chaotically.
“Noll!” a voice came from the other side of the arena. Noll slowly looked up.
It was X. He was fighting Laurent. But he didn’t even look at him. X’s eyes were locked on Noll’s.
“Fight! Their rules dictate that the winner’s word is the truth. Use that.”
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Noll’s hand stopped squeezing on his chest as his face finally had a smile.
Tch! Noll heard at the back of his mind. He rose up, standing still.
“If we win…” he smiled. “Does that mean every accusation is wrong?”
Illian's face distorted. “Like the Goddess will let you. Besides, the tech already incriminates you.”
“What if the tech is my natural ability?” Noll’s smile widened.
Illian wanted to say something, but he stuttered.
“That’s what I thought… as long as it is a natural ability, you are okay with it, right? Kind of hypocritical. Considering that Nexus-Blades are artificial tools.”
Illian smiled. “Don’t play games with me. Nexus-Blades house the soul of a great creature. The ability to create one was given to Clan Fong by the Goddess. Your tech? As empty as you.”
Noll waved his hand. “Whatever. How were you saying it? Let the one whose words hold more truth win? Your legal system is disgusting.”
His left hand went behind his back, then came back holding a rod of dull, grey iron. No runes. No gems. Just a hollow tube.
His index finger pressed a stud on its side.
Whiiiiiiiiine.
A sound pierced the air. It wasn't the hum of mana. It was a shriek. Like a thousand needles scraping against glass, climbing higher in pitch until it made Illian’s teeth ache.
There was no buildup of energy in the air. No warning pressure.
Just a flash of blue light—cold, lifeless, and blindingly bright.
CRACK.
The sound hit him like a physical blow. It wasn't the roar of an element; it was the snap of thunder without the storm.
Illian’s instincts screamed. He manifested a wall of crystals before himself just as the blue force slammed into him.
Shatter.
His crystals evaporated into dust.
Illian skidded back, his boots carving grooves into the stone, his ears ringing with that unnatural, metallic thunder.
“What is that heresy?!” Illian wiped his watering eyes, blinking away the afterimage of that dead blue light.
He looked at where Noll was just a heartbeat ago.
He was no longer there.
Illian scanned the mana sources on the battlefield. But the sensors only sensed three people in the arena.
Illian’s sweat turned into ice. Just as he was about to contemplate, a pink spear brushed past him, forcing him in the opposite direction.
He looked back, and the moment he did, another blue light appeared, blocking the view.
Illian blocked it, walking backward.
He is out of my sight. I need to move to the edge of the arena, so I can have the complete view. That way, he can’t sneak up on me.
Illian started silently collecting mana under his palm. Just a bit more, and the ray will be stronger.
The next moment, a pink arrow brushed past him. Illian looked at it, deducing the trajectory, pinpointed the place from where it started.
He immediately fired back. The blue ray was thicker and stronger from how much he held it. It met the blue light from Noll’s ‘Metal Wand’ consuming it and finally hit the wall.
Noll wasn’t there. But the fresh blood on the floor suggested he was there.
Okay… Illian smiled. Let’s play, you snake. He started collecting mana under his hand. The low hum was like music to his ears.
And so, Illian followed his plan, moving around Noll’s projectiles, before he noticed one peculiar thing.
Not a single attack hit him so far. Everything pink brushed past. Everything blue was blocked by him. If it was him in Noll’s place, he would already defeat his opponent.
He felt another pink arrow brush past him. Looking at the trajectory, it was obvious.
The attacks were not aimed at him; they were aimed specifically to lure Illian where he wanted to be.
Illian looked back. He was just a few steps from the wall… so he smiled.
He wants me there… I will give him what he wants then.
While Illian walked into his own trap, the other side of the arena was reaching its breaking point.
Laurent stepped back, his eyes darting from X’s crooked knee to his twisted shoulder. It didn’t make sense. The vectors were all wrong. By all metrics, X should have fallen over three seconds ago.
"Stop that," Laurent hissed, actually sounding unsettled for the first time. "You’re moving wrong. You’ll snap your own ligaments moving like that."
X just smiled, his head tilting at an angle that looked painful.
"Have you heard a story about a blind martial artist?" X said, his voice calm amidst the chaos. "He invented a style that no one could learn. Do you know why?"
Laurent tried punching X’s face.
X stepped forward, dodging the attack. His torso leaned left, but his legs strafed right. It was nauseating to watch.
“Huh?” Laurent looked stunned at the unnaturalness of the way X’s body moves.
It was as if every part of his body moved with a separate mind.
"His students had eyes. They saw the angles and thought their bones would snap. Their fear made them stiff. They were limited by what they saw."
X closed his eyes for a brief moment, then snapped them open, focused entirely on Laurent.
"But the master... he just felt the flow. The body can do amazing things if you stop convincing yourself it's impossible."
Laurent gritted his teeth. "So you're saying I'm losing because I can see?"
"I'm saying," X raised his sword with one hand, the pommel dangling loosely like a dead branch, "that your eyes are lying to you. You see a broken man. I feel like a loaded spring."
Laurent raised his hand, waiting to block the sword.
“You spend too much attention on my sword.” X whispered, his hand winding up.
Laurent saw the shoulder move, but the elbow stayed still. Then, the elbow snapped forward with a devastating sound of air itself breaking. X’s hand blurred, lengthening, the fingers trailing behind like the lashes of a scourge.
That is no limb. Laurent’s skin transformed into steel, preparing himself for the impact. That looks more like a whip.
The normal punch would have bounced off. But X’s hand slapped Laurent with devastating force. The steel cracked, as pieces of it scattered around. The attack left a mark on Laurent’s body in the shape of X’s hand.
Laurent stumbled backward. His whole body was vibrating from the impact. But Laurent still smiled, shuddering with suppressed pleasure.
“You overthrew your self-preservation instincts to create an attack like that. That… is fascinating. Does Noll know?”
“He actually monitored me to make sure I don’t accidentally snap my hands.” X smiled, his head tilting unnaturally. “It’s funny. A man trapped in a broken cage understands freedom of movement better than those who take it for granted.”
Laurent smiled, his skin rippled back to human. He switched his stance, dropping low, raising his hands forward. No longer a boxer, but something that resembled a wild boar.
X readied himself for what he considered a last attack.
Laurent launched himself at X, leaving the floor smashed as he planted his foot for a wind up. X’s shoulder moved too, Laurent’s fist and X’s hand meeting in a clash.
Just a moment before the clash, Laurent’s skin rippled, transforming into steel.
The sound of the clash tore down the air itself. It felt like the air itself was being tortured.
Blood sprayed from X’s hand. The capillaries burst, and the muscle fibers shredded under the sheer torque of the impact.
Laurent grinned. “I win! Your spikes are not hard enough!”
X’s face didn’t show despair, instead, he too, smiled. “You spend too much attention on my hand.” He waited a heartbeat before continuing. "Shame on you."
Laurent looked up, the pommel of the sword was right above him, falling on his head. X let out the blade from his hand, instead, using his whole body to lock Laurent in place, as the pommel fell down, ready to smash his head.
“You will probably be alright…” X whispered. “Just a concussion. Maybe internal bleeding. Then, yeah, your brain will be filled with blood. Anyways, after this, you would need to be treated by Hippocrates himself.”
Laurent looked at X’s broken hand. He suddenly realized the intention.
“Are you insane?!” Laurent shouted, passionately. “What kind of psycho breaks their own body just to land a hit?! Do you have no self-preservation?”
X smiled.
“We are Nameless! You spent centuries telling us we were disposable… So don't be surprised when we spend our lives to buy a victory.”
This was never about surviving. It was always about victory by all means.
Meanwhile.
Illian stood with his back toward the wall, waiting.
This place offered a full view of the arena, as he looked over it, seeing Laurent and X fighting. But still not seeing Noll.
“Where is that snake...?” he said, loudly. Illian’s jaw tightened in protest. He had to show his confusion, so the enemy would overplay their hand. Even if that means casting himself in a bad light
Illian closed his eyes, discarding the useless mana sensor, instead, focusing on the sound.
Four small crystals rose up from the ground all around Illian. He planned to use them to better detect sounds.
The only other sound for now was Laurent and X fighting. He had to ignore it.
Then, he heard it. The crystal caught it, amplifying its sound. A faint but indistinguishable sound: a step. It came from behind.
Illian immediately turned back, the mana he gathered finally being used to create a fully charged up blue crystals. They were stronger, denser, and more durable than any other crystal before.
They hit the wall, spreading around it like vines, tangling around anything that would be caught by it.
And Noll was caught by it. In fact, it looked like some crystals pierced his body. He coughed blood, trying to break free with the one hand that was free. Illian’s eyes widened.
“My trap worked!” he announced, his voice booming—emphasizing the ‘My’. He was cheering, arms high, walking in front of the tangled crystals while looking at the audience.
“Hey!” Noll’s voice came from behind. Illian turned, annoyance on his face.
“Silence. The words of a loser hold no weight.” Illian’s voice dripped with the same disdain etched onto his face.
Noll didn’t answer. He, with his free hand, threw down something small.
Illian raised an eyebrow, recognizing the shape as one of the crystals. But this one was strange, not the one Clan Kris usually makes with their magic.
Noll then raised his weapon and fired a blue light at the crystal. It consumed the light, filling itself with liquid energy.
From the looks of it, the crystal was full. Illian would have given no mind, but the crystal started cracking.
“If I were you, I would run…” Noll said, smugness on his face. “These crystals become volatile when their mana capacity is exceeded. They don't just break... they detonate. And the blast… ugh. Let’s just say you will be in the care of Hippocrates himself.”
Illian’s eyes widened. He tried taking control of the crystal.
But nothing happened. In fact, it felt like Illian’s mana was consumed by it.
He turned around, trying to run.
But the pink wall was behind him, quickly closing, locking Illian and the crystal up in a perfect cube.
Illian realized something horrifying. Noll deliberately took a hit just for this situation to happen.
“Are you insane?!” Illian shouted, desperate. “What kind of psycho breaks their own body just to land a hit?! Do you have no self-preservation?”
Noll smiled.
“We are Nameless! You spent centuries telling us we were disposable… So don't be surprised when we spend our lives to buy a victory.”
This was never about surviving. It was always about victory by all means.
Laurent looked at the falling pommel. Illian looked at the cracking crystal. For a second, their expressions mirrored each other. It wasn't fear. It was the realization that they had been pushed into a corner where only one option remained. An option that went against their pride, their blood, and their laws.
“The Council is going to punish me for this.”
The words came out of Laurent and Illian’s mouths at the exact same time.
A few things to note:
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The Hive Mind: Did you catch that Noll and X said the exact same manifesto at the exact same time? They really are two halves of the same soul.
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The Cliffhanger: Laurent and Illian have been pushed into a corner. They are terrified of the Council, yet they are more terrified of losing to "Nameless trash." What kind of rule are they about to break?
Fun Fact: I present to you a new literary device: "Chekhov’s Joke." It’s what happens when a throwaway gag about a specific book from Chapter 5 finally pays off 15 chapters later. X isn't just strong; he’s a massive nerd who has been rehearsing that "Blind Martial Artist" monologue in the mirror for years. He finally got his main character moment.
Question for the comments: Do you think the Named are about to cheat, or is this something else entirely? Let me know your theories!
(If you enjoyed this climax, please consider dropping a Rating or a Follow! It helps the story immensely!)