Azrael stood poised at the edge of the cliff, his gaze locked onto his opponent, Zephyr.
No one realized that Azrael had been watching all the fights; the only people aware were the audience watching from the screens.
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Azrael Akki
Race: Human -- Class: None
Title: None
Potentials: None
Health Point (HP): 300/300
Mana Point (MP): 300/400
Dark Power: 0
Stats:
Strength: 2 | Agility: 3 | Vitality: 3 | Intelligence: 4
Skill: (5)
- Eye of The World
- Dark Power Container (0%)
- Intermediate Elemental Magic (20%)
- Mana Aura
- Clone (20%)
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With his eyes briefly tracing his stats, it has shown Azrael was ready to face against Zephyr.
Azrael, like a predator, waited with unwavering patience. "Premature attacks are bound to lead to losing positions," some of Jing Qiang's teachings started to take hold in his mind.
While Azrael didn't blindly trust him, some of Jing Qiang's wisdom had proven to be valuable.
Amidst the murmurs of anticipation, a scout's voice cut through. "This was a reckless decision; Zephyr's class gives him a significant advantage."
The sentiment found agreement among many in the audience.
Still, the anticipation to witness the clash between these two prominent figures in the test was strong, especially among the cadets who cared less about the final enrollment outcome and more about the spectacle itself.
In the monitoring station, Sable's eyes remained fixated on the screen, her anticipation brewing. "Show me something interesting."
Zephyr stood there, his head bowed slightly as he caught his breath. The exertion from his relentless battles with multiple opponents had taken a toll on him.
His chest heaved, a testament to his fatigue, as he glanced around the open field.
As his previous opponent's body dissolved into blue particles, signifying their elimination, a wave of exhaustion washed over him.
When Zephyr's guard was momentarily lowered, Azrael seized the opportunity to strike. With a swift movement, Azrael leaped from the cliff's edge.
The staff swung downward, its target Zephyr's head. Caught off guard, Zephyr felt the impact as pain shot through him, leaving behind a searing wound.
The sound of the impact echoed in the air, a testament to the velocity and precision of Azrael's attack.
Zephyr staggered, taken aback by the sudden assault, blood trickling from the wound on his head. His breath caught in his throat, a mixture of surprise and frustration twisting his features.
Reacting swiftly, Zephyr's rapier intercepted Azrael's staff, blocking the attack and pushing Azrael back. The clash of weapons reverberated through the air, a symphony of steel and magic.
Azrael's feet landed firmly on the ground, and he wasted no time in launching another assault towards Zephyr.
Their clash of combat styles commenced, each movement a testament to their expertise. Azrael's staff whirled in a series of strikes—thrust, twirl, feint, sweep, strike—while Zephyr's rapier danced through the air in a symphony of parries, blocks, and counters.
Azrael's attacks were a mix of precision and innovation, constantly keeping Zephyr on his toes. Zephyr's defense was a fluid combination of agility and technique, a dance that matched Azrael's rhythm.
The two warriors engaged in a dynamic exchange, a flurry of moves and maneuvers, each vying for the upper hand.
Azrael's attacks were unrelenting, pressuring Zephyr and forcing him to react with every ounce of his skill. The staff's reach and versatility, combined with Zephyr's precise strikes, created a mesmerizing display of combat prowess.
Despite Zephyr's efforts, he found it challenging to find an opening to counterattack.
Sensing an opportunity, he channeled his mana, releasing a vibrant green aura that surrounded him.
The aura expanded, and with a burst of energy, Zephyr unleashed a surge of wind, throwing Azrael back and causing him to fall to his knees.
Azrael quickly regained his footing, his determination unyielding.
The two opponents locked eyes.
"Who are you, anyway?" Zephyr's curiosity broke the silence, his voice laced with a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.
"Azrael," came the swift reply.
Zephyr's eyes darted to his bracelet, a quick check on the participants' standing list.
However, before he could fully process the information, Azrael seized the opportunity. In a swift and calculated move, he lunged forward, launching another attack.
Zephyr's startled expression betrayed his surprise as another wound appeared on his body. Azrael's attack struck his hips, eliciting a sharp intake of breath.
Zephyr's face twisted into a mixture of disdain and frustration. "Tch, you coward. You can only win points by ambushing others instead of facing them head-on."
The realization that Azrael wasn't even among the top 10 participants bruised Zephyr's ego, catching him off guard with this unexpected challenger.
Refusing to be outdone, Zephyr countered Azrael's assault with a move of his own—"Gale Strike." With a burst of wind energy, Zephyr unleashed a powerful sword attack that sent Azrael reeling backward.
Azrael's breath grew heavier as Zephyr's attacks gained momentum.
"You chose the wrong opponent, son," Zephyr's voice carried an arrogance. He disappeared from Azrael's line of sight, his speed multiplied as he initiated a fresh wave of attacks.
In a display of almost ethereal swiftness, Zephyr executed a "Windwalk Slash!"
His form blurred as he moved with remarkable speed, his blade slashing at Azrael in a rapid and fluid sequence.
Azrael found himself in a defensive stance against Zephyr's relentless assault.
His leather armor began to show signs of wear, the wounds inflicted on his leg, body, and even his cheek.
While Azrael managed to deflect some of the attacks, many still broke through his defenses.
Azrael was pushed back, his footing becoming less certain under the relentless barrage of strikes.
Seizing the upper hand, Zephyr's attacks grew more aggressive, his strikes gaining intensity. With a derisive tone, he taunted Azrael, "You should just hide instead of coming after me."
Zephyr's attacks rained down from all directions, his movements akin to a tempest.
Azrael's focus remained unbroken, his staff defending against Zephyr's onslaught.
As the battle raged on, the audience leaned in, awaiting the emergence of the victor. Some scouts exchanged skeptical glances, uncertain of Azrael's ability to triumph against the skilled Zephyr.
Amidst the crowd, Luna's eyes remained closed, her thoughts a silent prayer for Azrael's safety and victory.
Beside her, Theo's confidence in Azrael remained steadfast; he had no doubt that Azrael would emerge victorious.
Despite his tenacity, Azrael's resilience began to waver as the toll of the fight became evident. His steps faltered, his movements slowed by encroaching fatigue.
In contrast, Zephyr's grin widened, his confidence growing as victory seemed within his grasp.
But Azrael wasn't finished.
Amidst the whirlwind of blades and gusts of wind, Azrael adapted. The air around him responded to his will, swirling with purpose. Forming a protective barrier that slowed Zephyr's onslaught and granted Azrael a momentary break.
The crowd held its collective breath as the battle took an unexpected turn. Azrael's wind barrier showcased his adaptability, a trait usually only found in experienced Magicia. The audience marveled at the unexpected twist.
"Adapting one's strategy mid-battle - a sign of a true tactician." Sable praised Azrel in the monitoring room.
"Hah, turns out it's not that hard to play with wind magic. And they say you're a genius." Azrael's smirk taunted Zephyr's mastery over wind magic.
Zephyr's frustration swelled, his ego wounded by Azrael's taunt. In response, Zephyr launched himself at Azrael with renewed fury, his strikes becoming increasingly chaotic.
As Zephyr's attacks grew more frenzied, Azrael skillfully evaded them, his wind protective barrier providing an additional layer of defense.
Azrael's body moved with the fluid grace of the wind, his evasion a taunt in itself at Zephyr's ability.
Zephyr's attacks grew chaotic, giving Azrael the opportunity he needed.
As Zephyr's emotions became more unstable, Azrael seized the perfect moment. Swiftly, he swung his staff upward, striking Zephyr's chin. Bringing his staff back, and in a fluid motion, Azrael thrust the tip of his staff into Zephyr's stomach.
The impact was swift and powerful, sending Zephyr hurtling through the air.
His body twisted in pain as he collided with the ground, coughing up blood, a mix of rage and agony showed on his face.
As Zephyr's gaze lifted, he saw Azrael retreating from the battle, utilizing his wind magic to put distance between them.
Without hesitation, Zephyr pushed himself to his feet, resolve burning in his eyes as he pursued Azrael into the depths of the forest.
"How dare you run from me!" The battle was far from over, and Zephyr's determination to beat Azrael only burned fiercer.
As Zephyr's pursuit grew more relentless, Azrael felt the urgency of the situation. He quickened his pace, the forest becoming a blur of green around him as he sprinted deeper into its embrace.
Leaves crunched beneath his feet, while the wind whispered through the trees.
Zephyr's anger was palpable as he pursued Azrael, Zephyr tried attacking from behind, his strikes infused with a sense of desperation and recklessness. His rapid assaults painted a picture of a warrior driven to the brink.
"Fight me, you coward!" Zephyr's shout echoed through the trees, a declaration of his frustration and desire for victory.
But Azrael wasn't one to be overwhelmed by emotions.
With a combination of agility and calculated precision, he managed to evade Zephyr's assaults. Their movements were like a dance, each step and strike calculated.
The surrounding forest seemed to come alive with the intensity of their clash, leaves rustling in response to the raw energy in the air.
With a daring and unexpected move, Azrael turned back, a sly smile gracing his lips. The sight sent a shiver down Zephyr's spine.
Beneath Zephyr's feet, on the forest floor, a large and intricate magic circle formed.
In an instant, the ground transformed.