The SSS-Rank System: From Outcast To Overlord
Chapter 29: The Final Spar.

Chapter 29: The Final Spar.

The classroom window crashed open, and the duo remembered to land thoughtfully on the hard floor. Reyy had been caught off guard when Michael unexpectedly rushed at him before he could say any word, throwing him out his classroom window.

Now, on a garden field they both stood, keenly observing each other with cruel eyes. Reyy must have had his back bruised by the shards of glasses from the broken window, but his face still kept a mischievous smirk, as if trying to inform his opponent that he wasn’t even trying.

Michael leaped foward, but quickly disappeared after an inch. But of course, Reyy was familiar with this movement already, after that encounter in the Arena, he had learnt that the dude was an Assasin Type.

However, he quickly engaged his listening instincts, turning around rapidly as he heard a whip of wind coming behind him. Reyy’s hand wrapped around Michael’s fist, and just when he was about to flip him over, Michael disappeared.

But not for long, because he reappeared again in front of him. And this time, a kick so unexpected and unprepared for smashed against his face. Reyy’s head twirled for a second, and when he regained consciousness, he was already in midair, about to crash into the school’s brick fence.

Not that he could stop it. CRASH! His body chunked into the layer of the wall, almost damaging his spine if he hadn’t kept his head up. However, the drops of blood that ran down his face now warned him that Michael Alastair was definitely stronger than before.

Underestimating him was not an option any longer.

But there was just one problem, he couldn’t use his talents. If by chance he did, Michael would copy it... And not only that, he would also reflect a stronger version of his talents that would definitely take him down.

There was no way he was going to take such risks. The best bet to winning this fight now was to not give Michael an opportunity.

While he still contemplated his moves, Michael appeared above, just about to crush into him with a fist when Reyy dodged to the side, the force impacting him to the ground.

The king did not hesitate, he hastily swept his feet off the ground, the tip of his shoe piercing his Michael’s guts. Michael drew back for a split second, but Reyy wasn’t giving him time to recover, he stormed towards him, hefting arms over his face like a boxer.

Michael was able to dodge the first two punches even as quick as they came. But the moment Reyy threw an unseen knee kick into his already hurting gut, his full consciousness began to deter.

Reyy’s toughest uppercut made a successful connection with the Joker’s face, and he was sent flying up before crashing coldly against the hard floor.

[WARNING: HEALTH AT CRITICAL DAMAGE!]

Michael chuckled. How could he have been so badly beaten only when the fight had just started? Did his last few days of leveling up not improve his stats at all?

He didn’t want to believe that he was really too weak now, there was no way Reyy had just won like that without having to use his talents. Angry, his fingers dug into the dirt, and adrenaline started to pull him back up when he felt another kick stuffed into his guts again.

CRACK. Michael knew by that sound that his rib had broken. Of all his attacks, Reyy’s kicks seemed to be the strongest, almost dismantling him even when he stiffened his body to resist the attack.

[WARNING: HEALTH AT CRITICAL DAMAGE!]

[WARNING: HEALTH AT CRITICAL DAMAGE!]

[WARNING: HEALTH AT CRITICAL DAMAGE!]

"You started a fight you can’t win, Michael." Reyy’s foot steadily clumped on the floor as he approached his assailant. "I expected more than this childishness from you."

Michael chuckled. "I’m curious how your face would look like after you experience your defeat."

Immediately he spoke, a vial of healing potion appeared in his hands. He was only about to drink the potion when Reyy moved instinctively and kicked it away. Ofcourse, Reyy thought. That was only the method through which he had abruptly recovered back in the Arena.

"It looks like you’re out of options now." Reyy smirked down at him.

"Who said I was out of options?" Michael asked, returning a smirk back to the king. "Captain Geralt."

The floor around them immediately sorrounded with thick black fog, causing Reyy to startle. Out of the fog, a skeletal soldier crawled out, dressed in brown army uniform and a front hat, and in his hands were two rusty-looking curvy blades.

Isthis...necromancy

"Guess who’s out of options now." Michael said, then turned to face Geralt. "Don’t kill him alright? He’s mine."

Geralt took a step forward, his crimson red eyes staring blankly at Reyy. However, the king found himself back, and determination etched newly over his eyes. Determination not to lose to Michael.

"Alright then..." Reyy growled. "Do your worst!"

Geralt didn’t move further. He raised his hands up in the air and released his bony grip off his daggers and they fell to the floor intently. The captain then stretched an arm towards Reyy and wagged his index finger at him.

"You underestimate me." Reyy was furious, and he charged at Geralt with all the anger he could suffice. "You’re nothing but a crooked skeleton."

However, with a simple brush of his arm, Geralt sent him back a mile away, and he crashed into the exact spot where he had once crashed into against the brick wall.

When Reyy stood up again, he had lost his sanity. The feint red in that was once in his eyes now glowed in an ethereal manner. His hands burned intently, and his anger fueled the fire that so obviously sorrounded him.

"Ooh, colorful." Michael smirked, he was now fully regaining his consciousness. Except that, his ribs were still broken and the potion had been wasted. "Think you can beat that?"

Geralt gave Michael the side eye, as if offended by the sudden underestimation, but Michael just shrugged unknowingly.

"Don’t get distracted, you bastard!" Reyy threw tons of fireball at the captain, but it didn’t seem like Gerald even moved while he dodged them all.

This only made Reyy lose more control, and anger overwhelmed him because his attacks seemingly weren’t effective. His hands came together, and they formed a bigger fireball, the same size he had formed out of his frustration in the arena.

He threw it towards Geralt, and there was a wild surge of black smoke. Before it could all be cleared out, Reyy felt his legs leave the ground. When he looked again, Geralt had reappeared before him, choking his neck tightly while lifting him up an elevation.

Reyy made to form words, but only a struggled groan preceeded instead. His hands gripped tightly unto Geralt’s arm, and even if he incinerated them, the undead didn’t seem to be bothered.

"That’s enough Geralt." Michael’s voice commanded. "I told you he’s mine."

Geralt gave an glowered stare at Reyy, watching him for a second as his face suddenly turned sweaty, his eyes also, pulped up from being chocked for too long. He released his grip off the king, dissapearing on that exact spot.

Reyy crumpled to the ground, his hands still wrapped around his neck as he struggled to breath.

"You’re weak." Michael’s neck cranked to the side, and he stared at him with curiosity.

[AURA MANIPULATION COMPLETE]

[AURA: ELEMENTAL (PHONENIX)]

Michael raised his hands, his fingers curling slightly as an unnatural heat began to surge from his palms. The air around him shimmered, distorted by the intense energy that gathered in his grasp.

The heat wasn’t ordinary—it was tainted, its hues shifting between an eerie blue and a deep, consuming black. Blue like the heart of a raging inferno, black like the abyss of an endless void. The very atmosphere crackled with tension as the heat expanded, radiating waves of power that made the ground beneath him tremble.

His expression was obscured beneath the shadow of his cap, but his intent was clear. Without hesitation, he swung his hands downward, channeling the energy straight toward Reyy. The force surged forward like a cascading flood of destruction, twisting the very air around it. The temperature spiked instantly, and a suffocating pressure crashed down upon the battlefield, promising annihilation.

But then—he stopped.

Or rather, something stopped him.

The firepower in his hands suddenly disappeared, and what replaced instead was a layer of cold ice that sealed his entire arm. It was long before Michael felt a crystal ice growing behind him, concealing his whole body up to his neck and keeping him frozen in one place.

"What the hell—" He was starting to exclaim when a familiar voice spoke from behind

"I warned you Michael, didn’t I?"

It was Lena.

* * *

NAME: LENA SAETELL

TALENT: WINTER MONARCHY

RANK: S

STRENGTH: 300 SPEED: 244 STAMINA: 370 SKILL: 400

___________

NAME: MICHAEL ALASTAIR

TALENT: AURA MANIPULATION (PHOENIX)

RANK: SSS

STRENGTH: 280 (+700) SPEED: 265 (+670) STAMINA: 310 (+560) SKILL: 362 (+800)