Read Novel Full Chapter 585: Trial by Combat 7
Chapter 585: Trial by Combat 7
The thunderous chants continued to shake the Grand Arena.
“FINISH HIM!”
“FINISH HIM!”
“FINISH HIM!”
The voices of thousands of spectators merged into one overwhelming roar, echoing far beyond the arena walls and throughout the capital itself.
Every eye remained fixed on the battlefield.
Every heart pounded with anticipation.
Lucas stood motionless amidst the shattered stone, his robes fluttering gently in the lingering heat of his flames.
Across from him, Khan could barely remain upright.
Blood streamed down his battered face.
One eye was swollen nearly shut.
His breathing was ragged, every inhale labored, every exhale stained with blood.
His once-proud posture had long since disappeared.
The contrast between the two men could not have been greater.
One stood tall, calm, and completely composed.
The other looked as though a single gust of wind might knock him to the ground.
The crowd’s chanting only intensified.
“FINISH HIM!”
“FINISH HIM!”
“FINISH HIM!”
Lucas slowly turned his head toward the stands.
For a brief moment, he surveyed the sea of faces.
Citizens.
Soldiers.
Nobles.
Children.
Veterans.
All of them looking at him.
All of them expecting justice.
A faint smile crossed his face.
Then, without saying a word, he slowly raised one hand.
The simple gesture was enough.
The crowd erupted into an even greater frenzy.
They knew exactly what it meant.
Their champion had heard them.
Lucas slowly lowered his hand again.
His gaze returned to Khan.
The smile vanished.
Only resolve remained.
Then he began walking.
One step.
Then another.
His footsteps echoed across the battered arena floor.
Calm.
Measured.
Deliberate.
Khan remained where he stood, swaying slightly as he struggled to stay conscious.
He tried to raise his fists.
His body refused.
He tried to summon more wind Qi.
Only a weak current answered his call before dispersing into the air.
Lucas stopped directly in front of him.
The two men stood face to face.
For a brief moment, neither moved.
The arena fell into an expectant silence.
Then Lucas reached out.
His hand shot forward with effortless speed.
Before Khan could react, Lucas seized him by the head, his fingers locking firmly around his skull.
Khan’s eyes widened.
His feet left the ground as Lucas lifted him with one arm as though he weighed nothing.
The battered prince instinctively clawed at Lucas’s wrist, desperately trying to free himself.
It was useless.
Lucas’s grip didn’t budge.
The crowd erupted once more.
Many spectators rose to their feet.
Others leaned so far forward they nearly toppled from their seats.
Even the rulers on the imperial platform watched without blinking.
The Empress remained perfectly still.
King Highmoor folded his arms.
The Emperor of Rus watched with quiet focus.
The King of Blackmare narrowed his eyes.
Lucas slowly drew back his free fist.
Golden-red flames began gathering around it.
They grew brighter.
Hotter.
The surrounding air distorted from the intense heat.
The fire wrapped around his arm like a blazing dragon preparing to strike.
The destructive aura radiating from the punch caused even spectators in the front rows to feel its terrifying power despite the arena’s protective barriers.
Everyone knew what was coming.
One punch.
One final strike.
A blow aimed directly at Khan’s head.
The crowd held its breath.
And Lucas swung his flaming fist backward, ready to deliver the finishing blow.
Lucas’s arm tensed.
The flames surrounding his fist surged to their brightest yet, roaring with such intensity that the air around them shimmered.
Every spectator knew this was the end.
Khan hung helplessly in Lucas’s grip, his feet dangling above the shattered arena floor.
His battered body no longer had the strength to resist.
His face was drenched in blood.
One eye remained swollen shut.
The other stared weakly at Lucas’s blazing fist.
The crowd rose as one.
“END IT!”
“FOR LECHIA!”
“JUSTICE!”
Lucas’s eyes remained unwavering.
Without a word…
He threw the punch.
BOOM!
The flaming fist slammed into the side of Khan’s skull with devastating force.
The explosion echoed throughout the Grand Arena.
The impact ripped Khan free from Lucas’s grip and sent him hurtling across the battlefield like a broken doll.
His body skipped violently across the stone, shattering the arena floor with every impact before finally crashing into the far end of the battlefield.
A massive crater erupted beneath him.
Dust engulfed the entire arena.
The crowd exploded into deafening celebration.
“It’s over!”
“Lucas won!”
“Justice!”
Many spectators embraced one another.
Some soldiers thrust their weapons into the air in triumph.
The nobles began applauding.
Even several visiting dignitaries believed the duel had reached its inevitable conclusion.
Then—
Lucas frowned.
His expression changed.
It happened so quickly that only a few people noticed.
He glanced down at his side.
Beneath the torn edge of his robe, just above his waist, a black stain was spreading across his skin.
His pupils contracted.
He remembered it.
In the instant before his punch had landed…
Khan had smiled.
Not the smile of a defeated man.
The smile of someone who had accomplished exactly what he intended.
Lucas immediately reached toward the spot.
A violent surge shot through his body.
His muscles suddenly locked.
His breathing became uneven.
The cheering crowd slowly began to quiet.
Lucas staggered a single step.
Then another.
The rulers upon the imperial platform immediately leaned forward.
King Highmoor’s expression changed instantly.
“What…?”
The Emperor of Rus narrowed his eyes.
“Something’s wrong.”
Below, Henrietta noticed it first.
Her smile disappeared.
“Xavier?”
Lira took a nervous step toward the edge of the viewing area.
Selene’s heart skipped.
Princess Nyx’s brows knitted together.
Even the Ice Belle’s normally emotionless face showed the faintest hint of concern.
Lucas looked down again.
The black stain had already spread farther.
It wasn’t merely on the surface.
It was moving beneath his skin.
Like ink flowing through water.
Lucas didn’t hesitate.
With one powerful motion, he grabbed the front of his robe.
RIIIP!
The fabric tore away.
His bare chest was revealed.
A collective gasp swept through the Grand Arena.
Dark veins.
They stretched across his chest like twisted branches.
Blackened blood pulsed visibly beneath his skin.
The corruption was spreading with terrifying speed, radiating outward from the point where Khan had managed to touch him beneath the robe.
It looked alive.
Every heartbeat sent another wave of darkness crawling through his veins.
The flames around Lucas flickered violently.
His aura became unstable.
The temperature throughout the arena fluctuated erratically.
“No…”
Henrietta whispered.
Lira’s face turned pale.
Selene instinctively covered her mouth.
Princess Nyx stared in disbelief.
The Ice Belle’s eyes narrowed sharply, fixed on the corruption racing across Lucas’s body.
High above them, the Empress slowly rose from her seat.
Her composed expression finally cracked.
King Highmoor stood immediately.
The Emperor of Rus was already on his feet.
The King of Blackmare’s face darkened.
Across the battlefield, the dust around Khan’s crater slowly settled.
A bloodied hand emerged from the rubble.
Then another.
Khan forced himself onto his knees.
His entire body shook.
Blood poured from his wounds.
Yet despite the horrific state he was in…
He laughed.
A low, broken laugh.
It echoed eerily through the now-silent arena.
Everyone turned toward him.
Blood dripped from his lips as he lifted his head.
His swollen face twisted into a smile.
“You were…” he coughed, spitting blood onto the stone, “…too late.”
His laughter grew louder.
“I only needed… one touch.”
The horrifying realization washed over the spectators.
His relentless offense…
His refusal to surrender…
His willingness to endure every punch…
It had all been for a single opportunity.
Not to win the duel.
But to infect Lucas.
The joyous celebration vanished completely.
Fear replaced it.
The entire Grand Arena stood frozen, staring at the dark veins spreading across the chest of Lechia’s champion.