Without giving Nero a moment of respite, Lucas rushed at his kneeling figure with his spear pointed at the fallen swordsman.
However, Nero was already up on his feet in the next second. Before Lucas could back down or even think to change his approach, Nero advanced at him.
Realizing he couldn't avoid a head-on confrontation with the protagonist anymore, Lucas once again readied himself to cross blades with Nero.
In the blink of an eye, Nero blurred out in thin air and reappeared right in front of Lucas.
Lucas could only widen his eyes as Nero clutched his sword in the reverse grip, and attempted to bash the pommel of his sword into the young Morningstar's solar plexus with enough force to destroy a small boulder.
However, if the torturous months of rigorous training with Leo had taught one thing to Lucas, it was that protecting his solar plexus takes priority above all else, as it houses his mana core.
Thus, Lucas unnaturally careened to his right side, removed his right hand from the shaft of his spear, and without stopping his charge, raised his elbow to hit Nero in the face with it.
Nero reacted quickly, sidestepping to swiftly move behind Lucas. He then transitioned into and clasped his sword into a traditional grip and swung its blade at Lucas' vulnerable right ribs.
Gritting his teeth and knowing there was no escape now, Lucas tried to get out of the way of Nero's sword as much as possible but was still left with a gaping gash on his right ribs side.
"Argh!"
Swallowing hard and grunting slightly, Lucas shifted his weight and swung his spear at Nero, and the latter replied by moving his own blade at him in an arc.
The clangor of metal hitting against metal resounded throughout the arena like a deadly symphony until Nero avoided one of the slashes from Lucas and took a single step back.
One of Nero's hands left the hilt of his sword, and his fingers closed in except for his index and middle finger, which were pointed at Lucas like a prop handgun.
Lucas' eyes widened, but before he could move out of the way, shimmering particles of radiant white light clustered in front of the barrel of Nero's handgun.
In the next moment, a blinding white light flashed and drowned the entire Arena as if a sun had descended there.
When the light diminished, the figure of a silver-haired boy was visible, kneeling a few steps away from Nero.
A gaping hole was also visible on Lucas' combat attire in the middle of his chest, its ragged edges burnt.
Lucas himself didn't seem to have possessed any serious injuries, however, a small, shallow hole akin to a bullet wound was present on his chest.
Blood was gushing out the hole in his chest, albeit it wasn't very deep. Lucas was on his knees, breathing shakily. The fiery elemental aura surrounding him was gone.
Nero, on the other hand, looked at Lucas with surprise and said, "Congrats, Lucas. I think you're the only one I've met who was able to tank the full might of that spell at point blank, head-on without any armor because usually it's a finisher."
Lucas coughed hard a few times and rose to his feet. He shot a glare at Nero and spat in a hoarse voice, "Aren't you too full of yourself?"
Nero raised his eyebrow, prompting Lucas to continue, his voice returning back to its normal with each word.
"Who the hell do you think you are to congratulate me? If anything, I should be the one congratulating you," Lucas added.
Nero's eyes grew a little cold as he asked, "Oh? And why is that?"
"Why else? You're the first cadet in the tournament who survived against me for more than ten minutes," Lucas gritted his teeth and then lunged forward again.
The wound on his chest, ribs, and several other small gashes did nothing to slow him down; instead, he only looked faster now.
The reason for that was several small bursts of explosions going off under his feet, propelling him like a rocket every time he stepped on the ground.
Dozens of small craters were left in his wake as he advanced, searing blue flames appearing and dancing around him once again.
Nero raised his glowing azure sword as trails of light particles started to swirl around his blade.
Suddenly, he himself rushed forward at Lucas.
From the viewpoint of the audience, a line of pure white, radiant light, and a trail of blazing blue inferno drew arcs on the ground as they collided one after another.
Each clash was accompanied by thunderous shockwaves that swept through the vicinity, and the concrete ground was obliterated a little more.
Explosions erupted, and smoke obscured some parts of the Arena.
Even the barrier meant to keep the stray spells away looked to be struggling to maintain its place facing the sheer scale of the battle of this intensity.
To the mundane people watching the matches at their homes or even some of the first-year cadets in the academy, it may have looked like both the Fallen Angel and the Swordsman of End were on par with each other, but it couldn't be farther from the truth.
In actuality, each time Lucas and Nero clashed, disengaged, and then clashed again, both of them were receiving wounds.
However, Lucas was accumulating more and more injuries compared to Nero. Each time their blades clanged, they inflicted damage on each other, but Lucas was on the losing end.
That was to be expected. The battle had grown to the point where sticking to technique was impossible now.
It was just the sheer clash of their respective strengths.
Lucas didn't want that, of course. From the start, he was trying to resist this inevitable moment. However, the flow of the battle always follows the strongest.
Or rather, it's more precise to say that only the strongest have the luxury to choose the flow of the battle.
If you try to resist it more than you should, then you would eventually be crushed.
Lucas did whatever he could, but now the duel was finally turning in favor of Nero. After all, between the two of them, he was without any doubt the strongest.
