Agamemnon thrust his spear forward with the force of a landslide, the weapon slicing through the air with lethal precision. Poyraz twisted his body, dodging both the spear itself and the massive mana wave, his blood spilling to the ground from the wounds he endured in the Agamemnon’s skill. He brought his sword down on in an arc, a trail of celestial energy following the motion. The strike connected with the haft of Agamemnon's spear, the collision sending a shockwave rippling through the arena.

  They locked weapons, looking at each other’s eyes. Poyraz still had a smirk in his eyes despite the various wounds he carried but Agamemnon, despite being unharmed carried an uncontainable rage in his eyes. Despite both having other options, they stood locked there, trying to push each other back with pure strength and aura. It was a battle Poyraz was losing as Agamemnon took a step forward, pushing him back.

  “Hey, King. You know, I have been wondering something. What makes you more jealous? The fact that I am stronger than you? The fact that I am better looking than you? The fact that Queen picked me over you?”

  Agamemnon's jaw tightened, his grip on the spear haft trembling as veins bulged along his forearms. The air between them seemed to ignite with the heat of his fury, his aura flaring crimson and crackling like a wildfire barely contained.

  "You insolent worm," Agamemnon snarled through gritted teeth, his voice laced with venom. "You dare mock me?"

  He took one more step, further pushing Poyraz back. Poyraz felt its weight in every muscle, his knees threatening to buckle, but his sword’s celestial energy burned brighter, resisting the inevitable.

  “You think you are stronger than me? Look at you! Trembling beneath me!”

  Agamemnon roared, his anger erupting as he pressed forward with a surge of force. Poyraz met his rage-filled gaze, veins standing out on his forehead from the effort of holding his ground. Yet his smirk never faltered.

  “I am waiting for your skill to run out, King. After all, if I defeated you inside your skill, the pride of Gargareans could never be recovered. Aren’t I generous?”

  Agamemnon roared once again, breaking their clash with a furious mana explosion. Agamemnon’s mana explosion erupted like a volcano, the sheer force hurling Poyraz backward. He skidded near the edge of the arena. Dust and debris filled the air, swirling in chaotic patterns as Agamemnon advanced, his footsteps were heavy and deliberate, like a storm given form. Poyraz planted the blade into the ground, using it to steady his legs.

  Agamemnon’s rage reached a fever pitch as he saw Poyraz stand tall. His aura flared violently, painting the battlefield in hues of crimson and gold. He growled, his spear spinning in his hands. Sparks of mana erupted from its tip, forming the shape of a roaring lion’s head. He lunged forward, the lion-shaped energy bursting forth, barreling toward Poyraz like a comet. Poyraz gave him an almost tired look before being engulfed by dust and energy.

  “Champion!”

  Poyraz’s companions, save for G?kb?rü and Nyxara shouted for him. Yet, their worries were pointless. Agamemnon narrowed his eyes, seeing that Poyraz was not pierced on the tip of his spear.

  “Behind you again.”

  He turned around only to see Poyraz well and alive, his sword resting on his shoulder. He tried to swing his spear but Poyraz beat him to it, pushing him back to the edge. Their roles were now reversed.

  Agamemnon staggered as he was forced back, his heels digging into the arena floor to find purchase. His crimson and gold aura surged, his form still brimming with power, but Poyraz’s sudden reversal had thrown him off balance—both physically and mentally.

  “How did you avoid my attack?”

  Agamemnon bared his teeth, the lion-shaped mana coiling around his spear as if feeding on his wrath. Poyraz shrugged before swinging his sword again, initiating an exchange of blows.

  The clang of steel echoed across the arena as Poyraz and Agamemnon traded blow after blow. Sparks erupted with every collision of Poyraz’s celestial blade and Agamemnon’s lion-infused spear. Each strike was faster, fiercer, and heavier than the last, their sheer power warping the air around them.

  “It’s been 5 minutes since he used his skill. Didn’t you say he could only use it for 5 minutes?”

  Outside, Blanche spoke up. Artemeni turned back to her, clenching her fist tightly.

  “It was three years ago. He must ranked up his skill meanwhile.”

  She theorized.

  “One rank couldn’t increase its duration for too long. It should collapse in a minute or so.”

  Aurora joined the conversation, the calmest she had ever been since the fight had begun.

  Back in the arena, Agamemnon growled like a caged beast, his strikes growing increasingly erratic. Poyraz matched him with calculated precision, sidestepping and parrying with a fluidity that seemed almost effortless.

  “You know what sucks about super strong skills, Agamemnon?”

  Poyraz said, his voice carrying over their clash.

  “They either take too much out of you or have a strict time limit. Or often both.”

  Agamemnon’s face contorted with fury as Poyraz’s words struck a nerve, the champion’s calm demeanor like salt on an open wound. His strikes grew heavier and faster, the lion-shaped mana around his spear roaring louder with each swing. The ground beneath them cracked, unable to withstand the sheer force of their battle.

  Despite the flurry of blows raining upon him, Poyraz stayed calm and blocked, parried, and dodged every strike. The smirk on his face slowly disappeared just like the smug look on his face, replaced with a solemn and mature expression.

  “Stop and fight like a man! Stop avoiding me!”

  Agamemnon’s roar reverberated through the arena, his frustration boiling over as his relentless assault failed to break through Poyraz’s calm defenses. The lion-shaped mana around his spear writhed and snarled, mirroring his mounting desperation. Poyraz, his blade still glowing with a combination of aura and Armor Collapsing Claw didn’t answer.

  And finally, the space broke apart. The dome shattered slowly as strength left Agamemnon’s body. The moment the dome shattered, the crimson and gold hues of Agamemnon’s aura dimmed like a dying ember. His form faltered, his shoulders slumping as the strain of his collapsing skill began to take its toll.

  Poyraz stood a few paces away, his blade resting against his shoulder. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his wounds evident but not debilitating. He tilted his head, studying Agamemnon with an expression that bordered on pity.

  “Do you yield?”

  Poyraz broke the silence, his voice calm and cutting. Agamemnon growled low in his throat, his pride refusing to let him yield.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Do you think this is over? Do you think I climbed the top by just giving up?”

  Agamemnon spat, his voice laced with defiance.

  “Very well then.”

  Poyraz lunged towards him, swinging his sword. Agamemnon managed to barely block it. Continuing from there, Poyraz flipped his sword upside down and brought it down to Agamemnon’s foot, pinning him down to the ground. Agamemnon roared in pain yet managed to swing his spear to Poyraz’s unguarded head. Poyraz let go of his sword, manifesting a spear, and whacked him in the face, causing him to stumble back and blade to split his foot in two.

  Agamemnon stumbled back, his footing unsteady as blood pooled beneath him.

  “I’ll give you credit for your endurance, Agamemnon.”

  Poyraz said as he circled around him like a predator getting ready to plunge, his voice devoid of mockery, replaced with a cold, unyielding tone. With a flick of his wrist he launched his spear, his opponent barely throwing himself to the side as the spear pierced the ground. Before he could take a breath another aimed for his head. Then another. Then another. Then another. In less than a minute, Agamemnon was trapped in a circle with Poyraz, each spear threatening to pierce if he moved recklessly.

  Agamemnon's breathing grew labored, his body battered and cornered as Poyraz advanced with a quiet, methodical menace.

  “This isn’t over,” Agamemnon growled, his voice trembling with both fury and desperation.

  “This is over.” Poyraz stepped forward and swung his spear. Agamemnon raised his own to block but the spear twisted mid-swing and pierced his healthy foot. Poyraz didn’t bother to pull it either, letting it go and manifesting a hammer to strike him in the side. Agamemnon barely raised his spear, the impact bending it out of shape and causing him to stumble back and be pierced by the spears stuck on the ground as his foot was torn open.

  With both of his feet injured, Agamemnon collapsed to his knees. Despite his injuries, he extended his spear towards Poyraz with shaking hands. Poyraz grabbed the spearhead with one hand ripped it off from Agamemnon’s grip and threw it to the side.

  “Do you yield?”

  Poyraz stood before him, his breathing steady despite the numerous cuts and bruises that marred his body. His violet eyes, calm and cold despite their animalistic quality, locked onto Agamemnon’s gaze, piercing through the pride and anger that had fueled the once-mighty king.

  "Yield, Agamemnon," Poyraz repeated, his voice calm yet unyielding.

  Agamemnon’s fists clenched, his knuckles white with strain. His pride screamed at him to rise, to fight, to prove his strength. But his body betrayed him, every nerve and muscle wracked with exhaustion and pain. He glared up at Poyraz, his teeth gritted so hard they might crack. And accompanied with gasps from his army, he rose to his feet.

  Poyraz narrowed his eyes and let out a soft sigh before leaping and connecting Agamemnon’s head with his knee. Before he could fall backward Poyraz grabbed him by his hair and delivered several punches to his face, breaking his nose and splattering blood everywhere.

  “Agamemnon.”

  Poyraz whispered so that others couldn’t hear him.

  “I should kill you here. My experience is telling me that I should kill you here so you don’t repeat a stunt like this.”

  Agamemnon's battered form swayed as Poyraz released his grip, letting him slump to his knees. Blood dripped from the broken nose and cuts on his face, staining his once-pristine armor. Yet, even in this broken state, his glare was unwavering, filled with rage and defiance.

  “You will be subservient to Quipax from now on. You will sign a Geass. You can keep your country. You can keep your army. But you will be under our leash and help me kill Moloch. When I call you, you will send an army and all the resources I want.”

  Agamemnon spat blood onto the ground, his expression a mix of hatred and begrudging realization. His pride was shattered, his body beaten, and his army watching in stunned silence.

  “No.”

  He spat towards Poyraz but before that spit could reach him Poyraz was on top of him, stomping on his ribs. Poyraz's boot crashed against Agamemnon's ribs, eliciting a sickening crack that echoed through the arena. Agamemnon coughed violently, blood splattering onto the stone floor. The crowd, once roaring in support of their king, fell silent, the sheer brutality of the moment stealing the breath from their lungs.

  “Man! Kill… this bastard!”

  Agamemnon shouted between coughing. Some of his men heard him, drawing their weapons but they didn’t dare to come forward.

  “Wrong choice. G?kb?rü.”

  G?kb?rü, who was content with watching his partner’s fight jumped towards him, transforming into his giant form in a flash of lightning and ice .in mid-air. The small, snow-white puppy grew into a towering, lupine behemoth. His once floppy ears stood tall, and his sapphire eyes burned with an icy, predatory glow. Frost swirled around him as he landed with a thunderous crash, his claws digging into the stone, causing the ground to frost over. A low, menacing growl rumbled from his throat, sending shivers down the spines of Agamemnon's soldiers.

  The men who had drawn their weapons hesitated, their confidence wilting under the weight of G?kb?rü's intimidating presence. The frost spreading from his paws turned into jagged ice spikes that sprouted unpredictably, forming a barrier between Poyraz and the soldiers.

  "Stay back," Poyraz warned, his voice cutting through the icy air like a blade. “You don’t have to die here, away from your homes and loved ones just because of your king’s pride.”

  Agamemnon's men exchanged nervous glances. Their loyalty wavered as they watched their once-invincible king brought low, his ribs broken and his defiance punished. G?kb?rü took a single step forward, his breath clouding in the air, and the men stumbled back, abandoning their weapons one by one.

  Agamemnon, still coughing blood, glared at Poyraz, his hatred burning bright despite his shattered pride and broken body. "You think this makes you a ruler? Breaking me in front of my people, turning my own army against me?"

  Poyraz leaned down, his violet eyes meeting Agamemnon's with an unrelenting coldness.

  “Don’t try to play with words, Agamemnon. You will sign the Geass," Poyraz said, his tone absolute. "You will swear loyalty to Quipax and fight by my side against Moloch. Or your people will have no king, and your kingdom will crumble."

  Agamemnon's shoulders sagged, the weight of his defeat bearing down on him like the world itself. He clenched his fists, trembling with rage and humiliation, but he knew Poyraz's words were true. His army was broken, his pride shattered, and his people needed a leader—even if that leader was leashed to another.

  "I... yield," Agamemnon spat, the words tasting like ash on his tongue.

  Poyraz nodded, stepping back and allowing Agamemnon to collapse fully onto the ground. "Good.”