The Conquerors Path

Chapter 952: Chapter 950-Perfection Has Walked In.

From one of the upper balconies, Isabella leaned forward, her gaze sharp as she scanned the formation of the crowd. "Look at them," she said quietly. "They’re not here just for entertainment. They’re here to witness maybe history."

Girika smirked faintly, finishing her drink before replying. "Witnessing the rise of something they don’t understand. That’s how it always begins."

"You sound worried."

"I am," Girika admitted. "Because what happens here doesn’t just stay in the academy. Every single faction has eyes here today. The nobles, the demons, the sea clans, the lords. Even the upper planes will feel the tremors if he wins."

"And if he loses?" Isabella asked softly.

Girika’s expression turned dark. "Then the myth will shatter... but so will the balance we’ve been holding."

Her words hung in the air. The truth of it wasn’t lost on either of them. Austin Lionheart was no longer just a student. He had become an idea. A living representation of unity—something that broke every barrier between species, races, and factions. And if that idea were to fall today, the ripples would be catastrophic.

As the first gong echoed across the coliseum, the crowd went wild. A sharp wind blasted through the open space as Qwill Juggernaut entered.

The ground shook.

With each step he took, a visible dent was left in the reinforced marble. His frame was massive—taller than most species, his muscles carrying the compressed strength of his bloodline. His silver hair was tied back, eyes glowing faintly with the reddish-gold tint of awakened giant blood. Across his chest, ancient tattoos pulsed with energy, resembling molten metal crawling beneath his skin. The man was fully naked on top, and he looked like a pure walking class of muscle.

"Qwill Juggernaut!"

"THE TITAN OF THE NEW ERA!"

"THE WALL THAT CAN’T BE BROKEN!"

The crowd’s roar intensified as Qwill lifted his arm, acknowledging the chants. His grin was confident, proud, yet laced with the arrogance of someone who had never truly met defeat.

Then, the second gong struck.

The light dimmed slightly, and from the other end of the arena... a quiet stillness followed.

The coliseum, moments ago roaring with cheers and thunderous chants, began to quiet—not by command, but by instinct. The second gong still echoed faintly when the great gates opposite Qwill slowly began to open.

The silence deepened.

From within the shadows, a faint mist rolled out, carrying with it a pulse—like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to any one being but to the world itself. And then, he stepped out.

Barefoot. Bare-chested. Unhurried.

Austin Lionheart.

The name itself had already become a whisper of divinity among the students and watchers, but now—seeing him—those whispers turned into stunned breaths.

He walked forward with a calm that almost mocked the chaos waiting to erupt. The faintest glimmer of light trailed his every movement, as though the air itself hesitated to let go of him. His body—if it could still be called merely human—was a living masterpiece of creation.

Every muscle carried precision beyond mortal comprehension. Not swollen or grotesque, but carved with the kind of perfection that came only from something designed, not born. His skin glowed faintly under the arena’s light—a pale golden warmth, like the sun touching smooth marble. Veins ran faintly visible beneath, not harsh but elegant, like rivers of life drawn by a divine hand.

The moment he stopped at the centre, a collective hush blanketed the stands.

For a few seconds, even Qwill’s mighty presence seemed to dim, swallowed by the sheer magnetism that was Austin’s form. His abs looked like they had been shaped from tempered stone, each muscle blending seamlessly into the next with unnatural symmetry. The faint lines of definition across his chest and sides shifted subtly with every slow breath, exuding effortless power.

It wasn’t just strength—there was balance. Grace. A natural divinity that no mortal training could ever replicate. A murmur started from the stands, soft at first. Then it spread, as though the entire coliseum had been struck by disbelief.

"...Is he glowing?"

"He—he looks unreal..."

"Gods above..."

And then came the voices of the women. From the balconies, from the crowd, even from the viewing screens projecting to the cities beyond the academy grounds—hearts skipped. Faces flushed.

All of the girls, who had watched hundreds of fights before, now leaned forward unconsciously, lips parted, eyes locked on him. Their expressions were caught between awe and something deeper—something primal, the vampire girls especially, even the porfessor vampire women, all of them gulping down like they had never before.

One elf maiden dropped her drink without realising, her trembling fingers clutching at the railing. "He’s not... he’s not even mortal anymore..." she whispered, her voice cracking, face flush, that body, that looks, it was intoxicating, right now, Austin was the warrior that made every woman feel heat up their bodies.

Another, a demoness known for her stoic demeanour, pressed her thighs together, the faintest hint of crimson rising to her cheeks. "That body... that presence—it shouldn’t exist."

Higher up, in the shadowed alcoves reserved for the nobility, who came to watch, a demoness from the Abyssal Courts—known for her ironclad composure—fanned herself furiously with a clawed hand, her ruby lips parting in a rare, unguarded exhale. "I’ve bedded warlords and devoured powerful men," she murmured to her attendant, voice husky with unbidden fire, "but that... that is temptation forged in the void’s heart. I’d raze cities for a single touch." Her companion, a half-breed siren, could only nod, transfixed, her voice a breathless trill: "It’s not fair. Not human. Divine. I feel it in my scales—pulling, aching. The gods weep for crafting something so... achingly flawless."

Cameras zoomed in. Every lens that caught him trembled faintly, not because of instability, but because the enchantments on the recording crystals were struggling to focus. The human eye was never meant to look at something so precise.

The boys watching clenched their fists unconsciously, torn between admiration and envy. The girls, however, were silent—entranced. Their gazes drank him in like he was a forbidden dream walking under daylight.

Even Qwill—who had faced gods, monsters, and beings that tore through mountains—found his jaw tightening. He had thought he’d be the spectacle today. Yet here stood Austin, unarmed, bare-chested, and somehow making the Titan look... lesser.

And then Austin smiled.

It wasn’t arrogance. It was calm. Knowing. The kind of smile that said he had already seen the outcome of everything. The light above the arena shifted slightly, falling upon him perfectly. For a moment, it almost seemed that the world itself wanted to frame him as art—an image to be remembered long after the dust of this coliseum had faded.

Every heartbeat in the stadium fell into rhythm with his slow, steady breathing. Every gaze, every thought, every soul present aligned toward one truth:

They were not witnessing a fighter. They were witnessing creation perfected.

The whispers began again, faint but growing—

"Is this... what a god looks like?"

"No... It’s something more."

"Something made to surpass them."

Even the rowdier sections, packed with rowdy beastkin and forge-hardened dwarves, fell into a stunned reverie. A burly mixed-race, tattoos snaking across her green-skinned arms, slammed her tankard down so hard it splintered, her gravelly laugh turning into a throaty growl of approval. "Lads, look at ’im! Built like the All-Father’s own hammer—solid, unbreakin’, and hotter than a burning forge. I’d wrestle a wyrm for a night under that shadow!" Cheers morphed into a chant, ragged at first, then swelling into a unified thunder:

"Lionheart! Lionheart!" But beneath it, the undercurrent was electric, primal—a massive, unbelievable attraction that rippled through the air like heat haze, bodies shifting restlessly, alliances forgotten in the face of pure, unadulterated awe.

Even the air trembled when he finally stopped in front of Qwill, the distance between them filled with the silent storm of reverence and disbelief. And as the announcer struggled to find his voice, somewhere deep in the crowd, a single spectator muttered, almost reverently—

"...The world has never seen something like him before."

The gong for the start of the match had not yet rung, but it didn’t matter. The real impact had already begun

Up in the VIP section, even Girika’s fingers paused mid-swipe on her glass. "He’s... calm," she murmured, even she having a deep blush on her face, for she had never seen anything of that level of perfection.

"Too calm," Isabella added, watching closely. "Almost as if he already knows the outcome."

Even Isabella, the usually hard-hearted one, felt her innate instincts as a woman flare up as she looked at the display of Austin, shirtless and looking like a warrior ready to fall.

Girika frowned. "No one can be that sure against Qwill. Not even him."

But as the announcer’s voice boomed through the magical sound arrays, echoing across the entire coliseum, that feeling only grew stronger.

"Today’s battle will be recorded in history! In the west corner, representing the Juggernaut bloodline—Qwill Juggernaut, bearer of the Ancient Tattoo of Strength!And in the east corner, representing none but himself—Austin Lionheart, the man who turned silence into legacy!"

The crowd exploded again, both sides roaring in frenzy. The magical barriers rose, sealing the field completely. A translucent dome of shimmering energy hummed into existence, locking both figures within.