Bab 245: Prelude to Exchange Program II
This duel was the first clash between Lucifer and Arthur since their first-year Sovereign's Tournament, more than a year and a half ago. They had almost crossed swords again in the second-year tournament, but Arthur had gone reclusive for nearly a full year, leaving that battle unrealized.
Now, Lucifer was here to gauge the true height of the Wall that Arthur had scaled, to see how he himself would fare against that impossible standard. And already, he wasn't disappointed.
Lucifer had grown immensely during the year, honing his talents to razor sharpness. His longsword now thrummed with a six-circle spell formula he'd crafted to better fuse the enhanced aura of the six elements he commanded, boosted by his Gift Yin-Yang Body. His blade, in tune with Resonance, radiated power. He was no ordinary Integration-ranker, and he knew it—especially in comparison to Ren, who had reached Fist Resonance.
Lucifer's skills were undeniably high-caliber. As a mid-level Integration-ranker, he was capable of defeating nearly any Integration-ranker in the world. But even now, an ideal haunted his mind: the figure who had taken over Arthur's body and wielded it with a mastery that defied reason. That entity had wielded the body of a low-level Integration-ranker with Sword Resonance and vanquished a low-level Ascendant-ranker.
The hierarchy of Integration-rank had always been clear. There were four levels: low, mid, high, and peak. Low-level Integration-rankers had just touched Integration-rank, able to wield enhanced aura, six-circle magic, and Intent. Mid-levels achieved Resonance, a significant leap forward. High-levels began to close in on the Wall, that intangible boundary separating them from Ascendant-rank. And finally, peak-level Integration-rankers, standing on the very edge, had reached the Wall itself but could not yet form the Heart required to scale it.
Currently, both Lucifer and Arthur were mid-level Integration-rankers. They'd each reached Resonance barely a month ago, and were on the cusp of advancing to high-level Integration-rank. Yet, there was a difference in their progress. Arthur's development had surged past Lucifer's; he was ahead in terms of mana capacity and refinement.
But even beyond mana, the gulf between them was undeniable.
Lucifer instantly shifted, activating the second movement of his Grade 6 art, Myth of the Northern Peak: Cocytus's Descent. Ice crystallized along his blade, sending a frigid wave outward, aiming to crush anything caught in its path. But Arthur met the attack with his own power—chanting words under his breath, he conjured a blazing chakra that burst to life in his hands, a fire spell reminiscent of Jack's deadly flames from the Festival. This time, though, Arthur's flames burned brighter, hotter, a testament to his newfound strength.
As the chakra clashed with Cocytus's Descent, fire and ice collided in a fierce struggle, each element desperate to overpower the other. The air between them crackled with elemental fury, heat and cold warring for dominance, casting flickering shadows across the training ground. The sheer energy of their collision was overwhelming.
Arthur didn't let the spectacle linger. With precise, fluid movements, he closed the distance between them in an instant, his sword alight with eleven layered auras. In a sweeping motion, he swung his blade, creating four mirrored arcs that fanned out around Lucifer—a seamless execution of Illusion Sword. The air shimmered with the force of his enhanced aura, each sword stroke appearing as deadly as the original.
Lucifer's instincts flared to life. Activating his second Gift, God's Eyes, he saw through the illusion immediately, his vision piercing the layered mirage to reveal the true path of Arthur's blade. He deflected the incoming strike with a skillful parry, a clang echoing as their swords met. Yet Arthur moved without pause, shifting into a relentless flurry of attacks, each one faster, more precise, pushing Lucifer to the edge.
"Impressive," Lucifer muttered through gritted teeth as he barely countered each strike. But he could feel the strain mounting. The eleven-layered aura imbued in Arthur's blade was unyielding, every clash sending jolts up Lucifer's arms, reminding him of the difference between their techniques. Arthur's control was a masterful blend of precision and power—a depth that Lucifer was beginning to grasp, yet was far from matching.
Lucifer's grip tightened on his sword as he steadied himself, his gaze locked onto Arthur. 'It's not enough,' he thought, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Without hesitation, he activated the first movement of his Grade 6 art, Myth of the Northern Peak: Frostfire Waltz, sending waves of ice and fire spiraling through his blade to push back against Arthur's relentless strikes.
But Arthur merely grinned, his movements shifting seamlessly. With a deft step, he unleashed his own art—Tempest Dance Technique, a Grade 5 form he had received at the start of his academy journey.
Lucifer's eyes widened as he took in the scene unfolding before him. Arthur's resonant blade met his own, their clash harmonious yet deadly, as if Arthur's weapon was singing in perfect pitch against Lucifer's. The gap between their arts was clear—Lucifer's Frostfire Waltz was a Grade 6 technique, superior in theory to Arthur's, and yet here they were, striking as equals.
"You monster," he murmured, his voice trembling, unable to contain the awe and disbelief stirring within him.
It was a sight beyond reason. Arthur Nightingale had reached the virtuoso realm with the Tempest Dance Technique, an art given to him merely two and a half years ago. At this pace, he would master it entirely before his fifth year even began—a feat unheard of, almost mythical in its accomplishment.
Lucifer had advanced well himself, reaching the adept level with the Grade 5 art given to him by the Academy. He had considered his progress remarkable, knowing that, at this rate, he could achieve mastery by his final year. Yet Arthur defied every expectation, every limit.
No, he shattered them.
With every strike, every pivot and feint, Arthur carved the gap between them deeper. There was a finesse to his movements, a fluidity that transcended raw skill—a mastery so innate it was like watching an artist brush life onto a canvas with ease.
In his heart, Lucifer felt a flicker of frustration. He had pushed himself beyond what anyone thought possible, had claimed the heights of talent and strength, only to find Arthur towering even higher, effortlessly, as if it was as natural to him as breathing.
"Is this enough?" Arthur asked, a faint look of boredom crossing his features, as if he were indulging in a trivial pastime rather than a battle.
Lucifer clenched his jaw, his grip on his sword tightening despite the inevitable truth laid bare before him. The chasm between them had grown vast, almost as daunting as that between a peak Integration-ranker and a low-level Ascendant-ranker.
Swallowing his pride, Lucifer lowered his sword, the weight of his admission settling heavily. "I yield," he said, his voice steady but laced with reluctant acceptance.
Arthur inclined his head in acknowledgment, letting his own sword dip in response. For a moment, the two stood in a silence that spoke more than words—the silence of understanding, of the ever-present drive to push forward, tempered by the realization of just how high Arthur had climbed.
Lucifer took a breath, forcing himself to meet Arthur's gaze, the challenge still burning within him despite his surrender. And though Arthur's expression remained impassive, there was a glimmer in his eyes, a hint of respect, as if he, too, understood the silent promise Lucifer made: 'One day, he would bridge this gap.'
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone