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The Transferred Tyrant

Chapter 11 / 29

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11-The End of the Warm-Up

The Transferred Tyrant

Selina smiled, her expression softening.

"Since you’ve given everything you’ve got, I owe it to you to do the same.

Royal Technique: Holy Light Valkyrie!"

A colossal phantom materialized behind her—a knightly Valkyrie with hair of brilliant gold, wielding a radiant, blinding spear.

Despite the blood trickling from her lips, Selina commanded the spirit to strike.

The Valkyrie surged forward, her spear driving into the storm with a technique

known as the Mountain-Piercing Thrust.

The collision between the spear and the cyclone sent shivers down the spines of the spectators.

The deadlock lasted for several minutes until the spear finally shredded the

cyclone, continuing its path to hover just inches from Sylvia’s throat.

Sylvia offered a weak, tired smile.

"You earned this victory." She collapsed, completely spent, before the match was officially called.

Selina also fainted, and both were rushed to the infirmary. The referee announced Selina as the winner.

Archion watched, lost in thought. Sylvia lost again.

No matter—this defeat will only harden her resolve and make her stronger.

"Look," Ray interrupted, his tone mocking.

"Your beloved was just hauled off to the infirmary. Aren't you going to check on her?"

Veins pulsed on Archion’s forehead as he struggled to contain his rage.

He opened his mouth to snap back, but before he could speak, the referee

bellowed: "Ninth match: Ray versus Valerian!"

Ray stood up, brushing past Archion. "I’m off. It’s my turn."

This is another deviation, Archion thought. Because of Ray’s existence, things are unfolding in ways I never experienced before.

Valerian stood in the arena, framed by a suffocating, heavy silence.

His golden armor shimmered with blinding luster, and his sword hummed with lethal energy.

"Admit defeat," Valerian sneered, looking down at Ray.

"It would save you from a brutal beating."

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Ray stood with an unnerving, absolute stillness, ignoring the prince entirely.

He’ll make a fine lab rat to test my strength without relying on lightning reinforcement, he thought.

The referee slashed his hand downward: "Begin!"

In a heartbeat, Valerian vanished, utilizing a high-tier royal movement technique.

He reappeared instantly before Ray, his sword descending like a lightning strike.

CLANG!

Ray parried, but the force was staggering. He was shoved back three full paces, his

heels carving deep furrows into the reinforced floor.

The students gasped in shock.

"I’ll make you realize that this place isn't for rejects like you," Valerian mocked.

The prince surged forward, unleashing a relentless sequence of strikes.

Each hit was faster and heavier than the last.

The arena became a brutal, unforgiving battlefield, the cacophony of steel clashing

against steel ringing out like funeral bells.

THUD! CLANG! THUD!

Ray danced on the edge of destruction, dodging by a hair's breadth.

Valerian’s rhythm was absolute.

Ray leaped back, then shot forward like a

fired arrow, throwing a devastating punch toward the prince’s chest.

Valerian caught it with the flat of his blade, rotating with fluid grace to deliver a side-

kick that forced Ray into a desperate retreat.

The crowd erupted; the battle had reached a fever pitch.

In seconds, they exchanged ten strikes.

The students could no longer track the movement—only flashes of golden light colliding with Ray’s crimson sparks.

Suddenly, Ray retreated and unleashed three crescent blades of crimson lightning.

Valerian struggled to parry them, and as he faltered, Ray lunged, his crimson lightning

sword forcing the prince onto the back foot.

Valerian’s expression hardened.

He lifted his sword high, his golden armor flaring to a brilliance that eclipsed the sun.

The atmospheric pressure shifted, becoming dense and hard to breathe.

Valerian’s voice rang out, saturated with arrogance: "The warm-up is over."

A golden explosion tore through the arena. "Royal Sword Art... The Holy Knight!"

Behind Valerian, a colossal phantom of a golden knight materialized.

It wore gargantuan plate armor and wielded a sword the size of a mountain peak.

Unlike Selina, Valerian’s royal bloodline allowed him to withstand the technique without bleeding.

The Holy Knight moved. The first strike descended. Ray crossed his arms to block, but—

BOOM!

Ray braced his feet, the stone shattering into spiderwebs of ruin beneath him.

The impact shook the entire arena; the match was nearing its climax.

The second strike followed with brutal momentum, burying Ray under the phantom's weight.

BOOMMMMM!!

Ray’s body was launched across the arena, smashing into the outer wall.

A deathly silence blanketed the stands.

"It's over!" someone yelled. "No one survives a blow like that!"

Yet, in the silence, Ray’s fingers twitched. He pulled himself up, his crimson eyes burning with feral brilliance.

He wiped the blood from his lip and echoed Valerian’s earlier words, his voice perfectly calm: "The warm-up is over."

Crimson lightning exploded around him, but this time, the energy surged into his body, coating him in electric sparks.

He lunged, faster than before.

He appeared before the knight, then behind it, then above.

The arena became a blurred tapestry of crimson flashes.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Consecutive strikes raked the knight from

every angle until it was webbed with dozens of fractures.

"Impossible!" Valerian shrieked in terror.

Ray gathered every ounce of his power into a single fist, the crimson energy swirling like a hurricane.

He unleashed the strike into the center of the phantom's chest.

BOOMMMMMMM!

A massive shockwave swept the arena, and the Holy Knight imploded into

countless shards of golden light.

Silence returned. Ray stood firm, while Valerian lay on the ground, bleeding from

the backlash of his shattered technique.

Valerian tried to summon the phantom again, but Ray slammed his foot onto the prince's face, knocking him unconscious.

Hmm, Archion thought. I’ll need to keep a close watch to see how this match influences the future.

The stands erupted into chaotic, thunderous applause.

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