"You despicable bastards! Do you have any martial fighting spirit left at all?!"
Kuse backed away step by step, shouting with righteous indignation, as though desperate for every spectator in the arena and everyone watching the broadcast to hear him.
In this moment, he finally understood a simple truth.
Between bare fists and armed weapons stood an insurmountable wall.
Those weren't merely weapons.
They were instruments of torture, and tombstones.
"This is the Sanctuary Form-and-Will Axe-Fist Art, personally named by Coach Lanqi."
Seeing Kuse neither willing to fight nor willing to throw away his pride and concede, the vice-captain found him utterly ridiculous, pitiful, and almost charming.
The spectator stands fell noticeably quieter.
As laypeople, the audience felt ill-equipped to weigh in on matters regarding the martial fighting spirit.
"Uh... I can testify for everyone that this technique does indeed exist. Back in the Shadow World, Headmaster Lan instructed clergy from the Northern Continent in its use. There is another move called the Holy Light Swordsmanship: Twin Peaks Piercing the Ears."
From the commentary desk, Luvishir tried her best to smooth things over.
Beside her, her co-commentator didn't dare chime in.
If you claimed she had no shame, she would offer a calm, logical explanation. Yet if you claimed she had any shame, she was genuinely lying through her teeth with eyes wide open.
It was impossible to tell what was going on in her head.
Meanwhile, the referees' box had lapsed into deathly silence.
Loren's palms were drenched in sweat, his knees trembled, and words failed him.
He wanted to call a halt to the match.
Yet so far, not a single rule violation had occurred.
Nor had Kuse surrendered.
As head referee, Loren had no authority to forcibly disrupt a match proceeding within the rules.
More importantly, the two old men beside him would never permit him to act rashly.
"Ugh..."
Over on the Ikerite Academy bench, Hyperion looked ready to cry, wishing she could vanish so the audience wouldn't associate her with the coaching staff.
Alas, the moment she had sat down earlier, it was already too late.
"Granted, if I had taught them the Five Poisons Fist or the Sun Fist, they could have won even faster, but that would seem rather dishonorable. We must uphold the academy's image and make sure our opponent accepts defeat completely," Lanqi commented thoughtfully.
He seemed completely immersed in his role as coach, offering earnest tactical analysis.
"Do you honestly think that...?"
Hyperion could guess that "Five Poisons Fist" referred to Frey's [Venomous Spikes], while "Sun Fist" probably referred to blinding light magic.
"Wait, where did Frey go?" Hyperion suddenly remembered, turning to ask Lanqi.
"Wasn't he with you?" Lanqi hadn't seen Frey once over the past two days.
"Huh, that's bizarre. He placed a bet, so he ought to care about the outcome..."
Hyperion glanced around in confusion. She hadn't seen Frey since the match began.
Still, neither paid it much mind.
"Don't worry, Hyperion. I still taught them an authentic set of fist techniques—more than enough to subdue Kuse."
"Hearing you say that only worries me more..."
While the two chatted, several silhouettes across the combat plaza coordinated like a well-drilled hunting pack, encircling Kuse.
"Die!!"
Heaving ragged breaths, Kuse lunged toward one of his foes, intending to break through by crushing them first. But the brutality and madness of the Demon King's Army were on full display. The sickening crunch of bones echoed almost simultaneously from both sides, accompanied by splatters of blood.
They seemed completely oblivious to Kuse's counterattack. Every blow they landed was delivered like a cold, methodical execution.
Before Kuse could even regain his footing, a massive dark figure brandishing a greatsword appeared behind him out of nowhere. The blade cleaved down savagely; Kuse didn't even have time to turn before his back was slashed open, leaving a gruesome bloody furrow.
Another figure seized Kuse's arm, sneering as he pinned him down with overwhelming strength.
Dazed from the relentless onslaught, Kuse finally mustered a sliver of strength. But he realized the very first thing he needed to do wasn't to fight back—he had to surrender!
If he held out any longer, he dared not imagine what these madmen would do to him once he was fully restrained.
Yet before he could open his mouth, an iron-gauntleted fist smashed violently into his throat.
"Heh, thinking of surrendering?"
The vice-captain's voice seemed to have dropped a full two octaves compared to a few days ago, rumbling deep and heavy like a sledgehammer striking an iron forge.
"Ah... ah...!"
Kuse clutched desperately at his throat. Saliva and tears of agony streamed down his contorted face, but he couldn't force out a single coherent sound.
"Now you've learned what Friendly Communication looks like, haven't you?"
Following the vice-captain's words, the figure behind Kuse slammed a vicious low kick into his kneecap while shoving his shoulders downward, forcing him to his knees on the stone floor.
"This is called Basic Etiquette."
Before Kuse could even process the humiliation, another martial artist stepped forward with a lunge punch aimed directly at his eyes, turning his vision white with blinding stars.
"This is Radiant Virtue."
A rush of wind and a deafening boom closed in abruptly.
Another Ikerite member had cast aside his greatsword, slamming both open palms hard against both sides of Kuse's head. A sudden wave of dizziness nearly knocked him out cold.
"Listen to the Wonderful Notes!"
One after another, the members of the fighter squad unleashed Lanqi-style fist techniques, stripping away nearly all of Kuse's senses before launching into an exhibition of ultimate humiliation.
In the stands, parents hastily covered their children's eyes.
The spectacle was far too gruesome.
Loren turned pale with horror. Realizing the full gravity of the situation, he immediately moved to terminate the match.
Yet the control terminal in the referees' box seemed to have malfunctioned; it failed to deactivate the barrier to stop the fight.
"Why did the control circuit break down now of all times?!"
Loren's heart hammered against his ribs as he shouted on the verge of a breakdown.
Leaping into the air, he rode a gust of wind downward. Gale-force currents surged as if to peel away the storm clouds, every wind spell he cast resonating against the arena's barrier, gradually wearing down its strength.
He dared not unleash his full power. While brute force might shatter the barrier faster, the shockwave would inevitably endanger the citizens in the stands!
Time seemed to freeze until a faint tremor rippled through the entire arena, and the barrier finally began to collapse.
It didn't shatter in an explosion; rather, it dissipated into the air like mist gently scattered by a breeze.
Yet by the time Loren could bring the contest to an end, it was already too late.
This was destined to become a major disaster etched into Ikerite's history.
Furthermore, all major public events hosted by Ikerite Academy would be permanently banned by the Ikerite municipal government.
...
Inside the central control room of the School of Knights' Arena.
In the dim interior, a tall, sturdy figure with sunglasses perched halfway down his nose set down a rat and quietly slipped away, leaving behind severed conduits that sputtered with faint, crackling mana.
Chapter 226