Three days later, round two dawned beneath a cloudless sky. The field, tempered by the first eliminations, now consisted of the brightest blades each sect could boast, every fighter a full tier stronger than before.

Jared drew a lot against Kurt Deleon, an Earthly Immortal Realm Level Four disciple from the Blaze Sect. Kurt‘s Blazing Sword Art was said to smelt wrought iron, and the rippling heat that clung to his crimson blade made that rumor easy to believe.

“I’m amazed you made it this far, brat, but your luck ends with me!” Kurt lifted a scarlet sword wreathed In tongues of fire. Evidently, it was a fire-type mystical weapon.

Unmoved, Jared answered by slowly drawing the Dragonslayer Sword. The blade left its scabbard without a thunderous shriek, only a low, thrumming hum, like a leviathan murmuring in its sleep.

Off to one side, Flaxseed felt a shiver skate down his spine, alone understood how much violence lurked Inside that modest note.

“Aha, so you finally decided to draw your sword,” Kurt drawled. “Enjoy the sight while you can, after I’m finished, your precious blade will be nothing but warped scrap.”

He lunged forward, the flaming arc of his sword bursting forth like a dragon erupting from the sea. A tide of heat came crashing across the platform toward Jared.