The Invincible Young Master

The dark-robed youth's words hung in the air, creating a tense atmosphere. The spectators and participants alike were stunned into silence, the audacity of his challenge reverberating through the arena.

The steward stepped back, giving the youth the stage. The tension was palpable as everyone awaited the response to this bold declaration.

"Is this guy crazy?" those in the viewing area muttered. "Just who is he?"

"Why does he think he can take on every genius?" another from the crowd mocked.

Despite the murmurs, the geniuses remained composed, their confidence unshaken. They had faith in their own abilities and weren't quick to anger. They preferred to observe, to see what kind of skills this challenger possessed. They sat in silence, their eyes locked onto the youth in the arena.

Seeing that no one immediately rose to the challenge, an angry voice broke the silence. "I'll accept your challenge."

A towering, muscular man rose from the crowd, his massive sword strapped across his back. He strode towards the arena, each step sinking in the sand. Invited by the tower to this gathering, he now saw the spectacle before him as an affront, an attempt to belittle everyone present. Unable to tolerate the display any longer, he stepped forward to confront it.

Standing before the golden-haired youth, the muscular man towered over him, his size imposing.

"My name is Nolan," the muscular man introduced himself, his voice a deep rumble. "Tell me your name before I defeat you."

"Victor," replied the golden-haired youth, his tone indifferent to the challenge in Nolan's voice.

"Seeing you are only at the Essence Awakening stage, I'll suppress myself to match you," Nolan said, revealing his Spirit Inception aura.

"No need to hold back," Victor responded calmly. "You still won't defeat me."

"This cocky brat," Nolan muttered, fury igniting in his eyes. As one of the older and more experienced among the crowd of geniuses, he had fought many battles and thought to give Victor a handicap. Yet, Victor's arrogance, dismissing the gap in their stages, infuriated him.

Nolan was fuming. "Fine. Don't regret it later."

The steward of the Clear Sky Tower stepped between the two, stating a few conditions. "You cannot use external treasures besides the ones in your hand, and killing is prohibited. That's it."

"Begin," the steward commanded, stepping back.

The arena fell silent, the air thick with anticipation. Nolan wasted no time, charging forward with a roar, his giant sword gleaming in the sunlight as he swung it with immense force.

Victor, however, stood his ground, his eyes sharp and focused. As the sword descended, he sidestepped with fluid movement, the blade missing him by mere inches.

Nolan's expression twisted in surprise and anger. He swung again, faster and harder, but Victor continued to evade with minimal effort, his movements precise and controlled.

The crowd watched in awe as Victor's skill became apparent. Despite the size difference and the disparity in their stages, he moved like an experienced warrior, his every step calculated.

Nolan, growing increasingly frustrated, unleashed a flurry of attacks. Yet, each strike was met with empty air or a deft parry. Victor's counterattacks, though minimal, were precise.

The audience was enraptured, the duel far more engaging than they had anticipated. The initial disdain for Victor's boldness slowly turned to respect as he held his ground against Nolan's relentless onslaught.

Victor's eyes never wavered, his expression calm and focused. "Is that all you've got?"

Nolan's fury reached a boiling point as he growled, unleashing his spirit inception aura. His enormous sword shimmered with a blue glow as he charged forward with a formidable overhead strike, intent on ending the duel with raw power.

In that crucial moment, Victor made his move. For the first time, he swung his thin sword in an arching uppercut, expertly deflecting the heavy blade.

The impact sent Nolan's sword flying, embedding it in the distance and scattering sand in all directions.

Nolan staggered back, his eyes wide in shock as he struggled to regain his balance.

The crowd erupted in cheers, the unexpected turn of events fueling their excitement.

Victor stood tall, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, a confident smile on his lips. The tip of Victor's sword touched Nolan's neck. "You have lost."

Without a word, the muscular man, Nolan, exited the arena, his shoulders slumped in defeat. The murmur of the crowd grew louder, a mixture of admiration for Victor and sympathy for Nolan.

"Next?" Victor called out, his challenge still echoing in the arena.

The geniuses in the crowd shifted uneasily, their eyes darting between Victor and each other. The air was thick with tension, the weight of the challenge pressing down on them.

One after another, they stepped forward to accept Victor's challenge, but he defeated each opponent with a few strokes of his sword.

After a dozen or so matches, the geniuses no longer accepted the challenge and conceded defeat without even fighting. They realized the disparity lay in Victor's technique, which appeared almost magical and impossible to defend against.

The more the crowd saw his fights, the more astonished they became. They cheered for him, their roars filling the Coliseum, reverberating off the ancient stone walls. In their minds, they already crowned him as the top genius of this gathering.

Once the steward saw no one willing to accept Victor's challenge, he raised his hands, ready to announce Victor as the winner of this gathering.

"Wait, Elder," Victor stopped the steward, his voice cutting through the noise.

"What's wrong?" the steward asked, puzzled, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I have yet to challenge one person," Victor replied, his eyes narrowing.

"You have challenged everyone here," said the steward, looking at the defeated geniuses sprawled around the arena, their spirits broken. "Who's left?"

Victor pointed his sword at the private viewing platform atop the Coliseum. "Him."

The steward's gaze followed Victor's sword wanting to see this person.

Upon seeing the person at the end of Victor's sword's tip, the color drained from the steward's face. The thing he feared the most had happened.

"Dwight Spark,"

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