An Understated Dominance (Dustin Rhys)

The whole arena suddenly fell dead silent. Everyone stared blankly, and not a soul dared to breathe.

Alloy shot to his feet in the main spectator seats, and his face was tense with worry. Yet, he didn't dare make a sound. He feared it might startle Glenn into making a mistake that could cost Fenley's life.

After all, Fenley represented the future of the Celestial Alliance. Alloy had invested all his effort into Fenley, and he provided him with endless resources. If Fenley were to die in the match, it would deal a devastating blow to the entire guild.

While Alloy was gripped with worry, Cyrus and Penelope cheered silently. They secretly hoped Glenn's sword would strike Fenley. If that happened, the Celestial Alliance would take at least a decade to regain its former glory.

Fenley's body stiffened as he stared at the Fang Master hovering inches from him. A shiver ran through his spine as goosebumps prickled his skin. Sweat trickled down his face, and each drop hit the ground with a soft drip. He knew he had already lost.

If Glenn wanted it, Fenley would be dead in an instant.

"Return to the case." After a few tense seconds, Glenn decided against delivering the final blow. With a flick of his sword finger, the Fang Master veered off, spinning once before returning to the sword case. The other eight divine swords followed suit and returned in unison.

In the blink of an eye, the battle ring, once charged with lethal intensity, sank into an eerie calm.

"You pushedto use the Fang Master, so I'll consider you a decent opponent. I hope you get stronger.” With that, Glenn turned and left the battle ring.

Fenley's performance had exceeded his expectations. He thought three swords would be enough to decide the outcome. Instead, Fenley had held his ground through the seventh swords before finally succumbing. That kind of resilience had earned him a measure of respect from Glenn.

"Just a decent opponent?" Fenley stared at Glenn's retreating figure. His body slumped in defeat as a bitter smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He broke through at the critical moment, pushing himself to the edge and risking everything in one desperate gamble. He thought he could defeat Glenn, and this might be his chance to prove himself.

But what did he have to show for it? He hadn't even cclose to making Glenn use his full strength.

Glenn hadn't moved an inch the entire time. He won the match with just a few flicks of his sword fingers.

The gap between them wasn't small- it was insurmountable.

Fenley had always taken pride in his unique talent and believed he was a cut above the rest. But standing before Glenn, that confidence crumbled. What once felt like greatness now seemed almost laughable.

At that moment, he understood that no matter how far he pushed himself, there would always be someone stronger.

After a long pause, Fenley dejectedly walked off the battle ring and left the venue in a daze. He had already lost, and staying there would only add to his humiliation.

The match for third place meant nothing to him now. If he couldn't get first place, nothing else was worth pursuing.

"Congratulations to Glenn Hadley on his victory!" Oron announced promptly.

The spectators erupted into thunderous applause.

Glenn's supporters roared with excitement, while Fenley's fans, though disappointed, still clapped respectfully. They knew Fenley had given everything he had into the fight and pushed himself beyond his limits.

However, the gap between them was simply too wide. Though it stung, losing to Glenn felt fair.

"Mr. Marshall, what do you have to say now?" Cyrus smirked as he glanced at Alloy.

Before the match, the two had made a bet. Now that Cyrus had won, he naturally had to ridicule Alloy. "You've trained a fine disciple, and I lost the bet." Alloy took a deep breath. " A bet is a bet. I'll keep my word on what. I promised you. That's all there is to it." With that, he turned and left. Fenley had been defeated, so Alloy had no reason to stay.

"Well, thank you." Cyrus smiled triumphantly. After all those years of rivalry, he finally settled a score today.

After one hour of break, the second semifinal match began.

Oron entered the ring and announced, "The second match will begin now.

Please welccontestant number two, Dustin Rhys, and contestant number three, Abigail Robinson, to the ring." As soon as he finished speaking, the spectators exploded in applause.

Abigail, the only female contestant among the final four, was popular not only for her strength but also for her beauty.

Even with her status as the Grand Sorceress of the Mystic Arts Order-an identity that carried its share of m its controversy her charisma was undeniable, and she had many supporters. Her fans cheered and chanted her nas she stepped into the ring. On the contrary, Dustin had plenty of supporters as well. He was the dark horse of this tournament and had bulldozed his way through the matches.

First, he crushed several top foreign contestants. Then, he stunned the

crowd by defeating the favorite, Caleb, with a single strike. The sight of that single strike shattering ve m Caleb's enchantment circle, followed by another sword blow that sealed the victory, left the crowd speechless in awe. The crowd buzzed with anticipation for the showdown between Dustin and Abigail. Under the gaze of thousands, Dustin and Abigail took their places in the ring.

"Sir, I didn't expect to face you today. I guess this fight is inevitable." Abigail winked playfully.

She knew Dustin's strength well enough to understand that winning •No Stil, she wouldn't back down. Since she was in the ring, she intended to give it everything she had. "Give it your all," Dustin said with a smile. “Let's see how much you've grown this past year." "Okay. Then, I won't hold back." The words barely left her mouth before she sprang into action. Her figure turned into a blur as she charged at him.