The Extra's Rise-Chapter 529: The Imperial Duel (2)

Quinn’s brows knitted as he observed the duel unfold from his elevated position in the viewing area. His keen eyes, honed over decades of battle and governance, dissected every movement with the analytical precision of a master strategist studying a potential threat—or ally.

Arthur had already transcended the boundaries of Integration-rank in raw capability, that much was immediately apparent. His Gifts and artifacts elevated his combat effectiveness to rival those of an Ascendant-ranker, though Quinn had expected that based on the boy’s reputation. What he hadn’t anticipated was the sheer sophistication of Arthur’s approach to combat.

The bone armor that had materialized around Arthur’s frame was particularly intriguing. Quinn recognized it immediately. The crimson bones pulsed with malevolent energy, yet Arthur wielded them with the casual confidence of someone who had long since made peace with darkness.

It was the fluidity that truly caught Quinn’s attention, however. The precision. The relentless unpredictability that marked Arthur’s every action.

The Imperial Knights were undeniably strong in theory. They possessed immense mana reserves, practiced Grade 5 arts with mechanical perfection, and bore the finest weapons. But strength without fire-testing was brittle, and Quinn knew this better than most. These knights were prodigies raised in the safety of the empire, their skills honed in controlled environments rather than forged in the crucible of life-or-death combat.

They were, in Quinn’s unspoken judgment, soft.

Nolan Wright, for all his rank and accolades, exemplified this weakness perfectly. He was listed among the top three hundred combatants in the world purely by virtue of his Ascendant-rank status, but that was a technicality that meant little in actual combat. Against hardened warriors who had weathered centuries of conflict, who had battled in the brutal chaos of the Northern, Southern, and Western fronts, Nolan would crumble like parchment in a bonfire.

And crumble he was.

Arthur, despite his peak Integration-rank, fought with the ferocity and cunning of someone who had survived wars, not training exercises. Quinn had read the reports from the Eastern continent—how Arthur had faced a mid Ascendant-rank Vampire Elder and emerged victorious, and how he even survived an encounter with a low Immortal-rank Vampire Ancestor.

This was no greenhouse sapling carefully cultivated in ideal conditions. Arthur was a tempered blade, honed by relentless combat, striking with surgical precision and unyielding aggression that spoke of battles where hesitation meant death.

Nolan was simply not prepared for that level of lethality. Arthur’s unpredictability, his refusal to follow conventional forms or honor traditional combat etiquette, left the knight reeling from the opening exchange. Every movement of Arthur’s sword felt deliberate, as though it was a continuation of a strategy Nolan couldn’t see but was trapped within like a fly in amber.

Now, as Quinn watched, the duel reached its crescendo. Arthur had just executed that impossible evasion, bending his body in ways that defied human anatomy, and Nolan was completely exposed.

Wind mana propelled Arthur forward as he closed the distance with inhuman speed, the bone armor making him faster than any Integration-ranker had a right to be. Quinn watched with fascination as Arthur seamlessly transitioned into close-quarters combat, his movements flowing like deadly water between different combat ranges.

Arthur’s fist, wrapped in concentrated bone armor enhancement and the full force of Mythic Body, shot forward.

The strike connected with Nolan’s elbow with surgical precision, the resounding impact echoing through the arena like thunder splitting the sky. The concentrated force, delivered at point-blank range and enhanced by the bone armor, sent shockwaves through Nolan’s arm that his Ascendant-rank constitution could barely absorb. His sword wavered, nearly falling from nerveless fingers.

’He held on,’ Quinn observed with grudging respect for his knight. Even with the bone armor’s enhancement, Nolan’s resilience was genuinely impressive.

But Arthur wasn’t finished. He flowed seamlessly into the next movement of his close-quarters art, his leg coiling around Nolan’s weakened arm in a grappling technique that locked the knight in a vice-like grip enhanced by the bone armor’s supernatural strength. Using the momentum of Nolan’s forced movement, Arthur leveraged his opponent’s body to propel himself forward, earth mana reinforcing his skull while the bone armor’s plating concentrated around his forehead like a battering ram. freēwēbnovel.com

The headbutt that followed was almost insulting in its effectiveness, yet perfectly controlled. Nolan was sent crashing to the reinforced ground with bone-rattling force, and Arthur didn’t waste even a heartbeat, his sword rising above the fallen knight with predatory hunger as he poured his intent into the blade.

Hollow Eclipse. The second movement of Arthur’s Grade 6 art.

Nolan’s desperate response showed why he had earned his position despite Quinn’s assessment of Imperial Knight "softness." The ice wave that erupted from his prone position was the kind of technique that would have ended most fights decisively. The astral energy involved was substantial, the area coverage complete, the tactical thinking sound under pressure.

Arthur answered it by taking to the air with casual elegance that made Quinn’s analytical mind recalculate everything he thought he knew about mana manipulation. Wind mana formed solid platforms beneath Arthur’s feet as he suspended himself upside down, defying gravity as if it were merely a polite suggestion rather than an immutable law.

The bone armor began to fade from Arthur’s form as he prepared his final technique, the crimson plating dissolving into motes of dark energy that dissipated into the air. What replaced it was something far more extraordinary.

God Flash: Absolute wasn’t just a technique; it was a theological statement made manifest. The pillar of radiance that erupted downward carried the weight of pure divine judgment, untainted by darkness yet wielded by someone who had just demonstrated mastery over undeath itself.

The strike descended like the wrath of contradictory gods, and Quinn found himself holding his breath as he witnessed something that would redefine his understanding of what magic could accomplish in the right hands.

The precision of the final blow was what elevated it from mere spectacle to artistry of the highest order. Arthur could have obliterated Nolan completely, could have reduced him to component atoms, could have made his defeat so overwhelming that it would have broken the man’s spirit forever. Instead, he delivered exactly the calculated amount of force needed to render his opponent unconscious while leaving him completely unharmed.

That level of control spoke to a mastery that went beyond technique or raw power. It suggested an understanding of combat that was almost philosophical in its depth and sophistication.

As Arthur descended gracefully and the bone armor began to fade like morning mist, Quinn found himself fundamentally reassessing everything he thought he knew about the young man. This wasn’t just exceptional talent or even prodigious skill developed through intense training. This was someone who had already begun to transcend conventional understanding of what combat could be, what magic could achieve, what the human form could accomplish when pushed beyond its apparent limitations.

The Empty Throne suddenly seemed less like an impossible goal and more like an inevitable destination waiting for its rightful occupant.

"Remarkable," Adeline murmured beside him, her voice carrying a note of genuine awe that Quinn rarely heard from his typically composed wife. "I’ve never seen anyone transition so seamlessly between such opposing power sources. The control required must be extraordinary."

"Nor have I," Quinn admitted, his analytical mind still processing the staggering implications of what he’d just witnessed. "To wield both Deepdark and Purelight with such mastery... most practitioners spend lifetimes mastering just one such discipline. Yet he switches between them as if they’re merely different tools in the same arsenal."

As they watched Arthur speaking quietly with Cecilia, Quinn found himself genuinely curious about what other capabilities the young man might be concealing beneath his calm exterior. Today’s demonstration had been impressive enough to rewrite textbooks, but something in Arthur’s composed demeanor told him it was merely the tip of an iceberg whose full dimensions remained hidden beneath still waters.

"You performed exactly as I expected," Cecilia said to Arthur, her voice carrying that teasing affection that made her father’s eye twitch with involuntary paternal concern.

"I had to, didn’t I? For you," Arthur replied with such genuine sincerity and devotion that Quinn almost felt guilty about his protective instincts.

"Oh, and not because you’re getting that little reward from Father?" Cecilia asked with the kind of knowing smile that suggested she understood the full scope and implications of what had just been negotiated.

Arthur met her gaze with calm honesty that impressed Quinn despite himself. "I would have done it without the promise of any reward. That’s just an extra benefit—compared to you, it hardly matters at all."

Quinn watched his daughter’s expression soften as she heard those words, saw the genuine warmth that broke through her usually confident and somewhat calculating demeanor, and felt some of his paternal resistance beginning to crumble. The boy might be audacious beyond all reasonable measure, might be accumulating romantic entanglements that would make an ancient sultan envious, might be pursuing goals that bordered on the megalomaniacal in their scope and ambition, but his devotion to Cecilia appeared to be completely and utterly authentic.

"Well done," Quinn said, stepping forward and clearing his throat to announce his presence and bring the intimate moment to a close. His tone was gruff, but there was a begrudging nod of approval in his posture that he couldn’t quite suppress. "You’ll receive your promised reward within the week, as agreed."

Arthur bowed with practiced respect that somehow managed to convey both proper deference to imperial authority and quiet confidence in his own capabilities. "Thank you for your generosity, Your Majesty."

As Quinn returned the bow with a slight but meaningful nod, he found himself wondering if he’d just witnessed the rise of a new legend or the birth of something even more historically significant. The Empty Throne had remained vacant for centuries, its symbolic weight serving as a constant reminder that no single entity should hold absolute dominion over all others.

But if a Nightingale was going to sit upon it, perhaps that was destiny as well.