Chapter 36: Pentagon Festival [7]

In the pulsating heart of the arena, Dean and Noah transformed the space into a vibrant battlefield, exchanging blows with an intensity that left the audience around breathless. Noah, with the dexterity of a master, made his spear dance between his fingers before launching a swift attack. Dean, in turn, wielded his katana with precision, managing to block Noah's attack, but the force behind the blow was so great that Dean was pushed back, sliding over the arena floor.

Noah, not wasting a second, pressed with a calculated aggressiveness, advancing again with the intention of not giving Dean a moment of breath. Dean, regaining his balance with a surprising agility, barely had time to process before Noah reappeared in front of him, taunting: "What did you say? For me to be careful not to end up in a hospital bed?"

With a quick movement, Noah struck a vertical cut, aiming at Dean, who, by a hair's breadth, dodged, feeling the sharp hiss of the blade cutting the air so close that some strands of his hair were sacrificed in the action.

But Noah did not give up. With the same fluidity of his previous attacks, he complemented the movement with a powerful kick directed at Dean's stomach. The impact was so brutal that Dean was catapulted to the edge of the arena, the air being forced out of his lungs, while he struggled to maintain consciousness in the face of Noah's relentless offensive.

At the edge of the arena, the judge positioned himself attentively, ready to intervene in the combat that unfolded before him. The tension was palpable, with the audience in the stadium hanging on every move, divided between excitement and apprehension. Up high, Ethan Nightshade watched the scene with a calculating look, his expression unfathomable as the depths of a frozen ocean, waiting for the outcome of the events with a predatory patience.

Among the spectators, murmurs began to spread, many believed they already knew the outcome of the battle. The power disparity seemed clear, with Dean facing an opponent who not only surpassed him in experience but also displayed a formidable strength. The optimism for Dean's outcome in that fight vanished like smoke in the wind.

Dean, capturing the moment with a touch of sarcasm, thought: "Here I am, getting beaten up by a secondary character. That's what I call forced humility, isn't it?" An ironic smile outlined his face as he began to condense his aura. "I think it's time to level the playing field."

Suddenly, the energy around Dean receded, as if it was sucked back into him, creating a bluish glow that enveloped him, a visual spectacle in the middle of the arena.

Noah, with wide eyes, witnessed the transformation. "He created a mana exoskeleton? But that… that's not something a rookie should be able to do. Did I underestimate this guy from the start?"

Noticing Noah's astonished look, Dean didn't miss the chance to add a little salt to the conversation. "Impressed? If you're curious about how I did this, I'm open to giving a private lesson later."

At a pace that could only be described as electrifying, Noah, with a smile that hid years of battles and trials, threw himself into the challenge. "Arrogant kid," he thought, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed a mixture of respect and excitement. Like a maestro about to conduct a symphony of chaos, he spun his spear in a prelude of storm, his aura intensifying in a spectacle of red exoskeleton. "You surprised me, boy. It's not every day that a class G makes me rethink my strategy," Noah proclaimed, his voice laden with a warrior's enthusiasm.

Dean, in turn, didn't let his surprise at Noah's transformation cloud his determination. Noah's exoskeleton was a manifestation of power that would make anyone falter, but for Dean, it was just another obstacle to be overcome, one more piece on the board that he was determined to dominate. "So, the game really begins now," he smiled, a smile that carried an unshakable confidence.

"That's perfect," Dean murmured, each word imbued with a certainty of victory. And then, like two comets about to collide, Dean and Noah advanced against each other.

The atmosphere in the arena was electrifying, charged with the anticipation of the imminent clash between two titans. The audience, a sea of glazed faces, witnessed the spectacle, perceiving more than a simple confrontation; it was the materialization of pure determination and courage, a blue and a red merging at the epicenter of the arena. Among the crowd, - Sam, Ellie, Chloe, Diana, Yuki, even Blake - had their eyes fixed on the arena, each with their silent expectations and surprises. Luke, with his characteristic smile, and Alice, whose exterior serenity hid a spark of admiration, recognized the meaning of that moment.

At the core of the arena, Dean and Noah, like two gladiators of past eras, advanced towards each other, the promise of a decisive blow hanging in the air. "Come on, Dean Carleone! Show me that attack again! I want to feel it up close!" Noah clamored, rejecting his innate skill for a chance to face Dean's blow in its rawest form.

Dean, channeling all his mana to the blade, felt the world around him slow down. The blue aura that enveloped him, once a shield, now converged to his sword, preparing for the final blow. "I was a fool, lost in cowardly thoughts,"

As the tension built up in the arena, Dean reflected on his aspirations and the true source of his strength. "To aspire to fear nothing in this world, but to depend on a skill for that… what a bitter irony," he thought. Determined to prove his worth beyond innate skills, Dean raised his katana, the blade pulsing with an intense blue glow, a visible manifestation of his resolve.

Noah, watching the glow, couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment; the icy sensation of death he expected to feel wasn't there. "Wait, I want to experience that attack again… that invisible cut!" he yearned, but before he could complete the thought, his body reacted instinctively, raising the spear in defense above his head against Dean's downward blow. The collision between the katana and the spear released a powerful energy, as if two comets were on a collision course, an intense blue light bursting and crashing against Noah's spear, leaving him stunned by the magnitude of the impact.

In the midst of that fervent exchange, Dean, with a mischievous smile, threw a taunt at Noah: "You know that leaving the arena results in disqualification, right?" That interjection, at the peak of the confrontation, made Noah falter, his concentration momentarily fragmented.

Taking advantage of that instant of distraction, Dean released all the energy accumulated in the blade, a last effort to tilt the balance in his favor. The result was an overwhelming explosion, the arena vibrating under the impact of the clash of forces.

It was the manifestation of the confrontation between cunning and brute force, between strategy and power. Dean, at that moment, was not just a fighter in the arena; he was the maestro of a symphony of chaos, directing the climax of a battle that would be remembered.

With the impact of the explosion, Noah was thrown violently backwards, blood escaping from the corners of his mouth as his chest, now exposed by the torn fabric of his clothing, revealed deep bruises. He flew towards the edge of the arena, the imminent defeat flashing before his eyes.

Dean, the epicenter of that mana storm, endured more severe injuries, a price to pay for his own unleashed strength. He fixed his gaze on Noah, who sailed through the air on the verge of disqualification, a confident smile sprouting on his lips. "I'm about to win," he thought, a glint of victory in his eyes.

However, at the peak of the tension, Noah performed an impressive aerial maneuver, his feet scraping the ground of the arena in a desperate act of braking. He stopped right at the edge, by a thread of staying in the competition. A faint smile adorned his face as he acknowledged: "Impressive."

The audience was dumbfounded, the spectacle before them was more than they had expected for an opening fight. As the silence prevailed, captured by shock and admiration, the glances crossed in the arena, a game of recognition and surprise.

Noah, still catching his breath, scanned Dean, whose calm posture contrasted with the intensity of the battle. "I think I broke some ribs…", he murmured, a note of respect mixed with pain. The realization hit him; Dean was not a mere Class G. "Was it a misclassification?", he wondered, intrigued.

"Your mana handling is worthy of an Oscar," Noah said to Dean, with a nod of approval. "You compressed the mana until it became practically a cosmic pea, and then made everything go up in the air in a chain reaction worthy of note." His eyes turned to Dean's katana, which now looked more like a post-explosion contemporary art object. Noah's own spear lay in two pieces, a mute testimony of the chaos that had unfolded. Both now unarmed, like two chefs without their favorite knives.

Dean, keeping his air of someone who just watched a pyrotechnic show in the park, replied: "I must tip my hat to your resilience. I thought my particular version of fireworks would be your end, but look at you, firmer than a statue on a windy day, ready for the second act."

The audience, still with their jaws dropped and eyes wide, contemplated the scene as if witnessing a duck challenging a swan in a competition of elegance. The notion of a rookie Class G almost knocking down a veteran Class C- sounded as likely as a penguin winning a marathon in the Sahara.

"How about we settle this on the basis of good old fistfight?" Noah threw the challenge with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"The idea pleases me," Dean replied, sketching a smile that barely hid his internal panic. "But honestly, I'd rather not dance tango with your intimidating muscles!"

Noah, with a smile that went from ear to ear, plunged into his conjectures. "Did he spare his secret technique for fear of exhaustion? Or was it a strategy to catch me off guard? Assuming he has an invisible attack up his sleeve, does he need a sword to launch it?"

Touching his forehead with his finger, in a gesture of epiphany, Noah boasted: "With an IQ that would make Albert Einstein beg for water, I deduce that he is bluffing, waiting for the opportune moment to unleash his secret blow. But ah, with my infallible strategy, victory is practically in the pocket! Just anticipate the invisible cut, activate my special ability at the last second, dodge gracefully and finish him off with a right hook worthy of cinema." Noah visualized the triumph in his mind, confident as a cat planning the perfect ambush.

In a theatrical coup worthy of a Shakespearean twist, Dean, with the elegance of a magician concluding his most surprising trick, raised his hand and announced: "I give up."

"What?" Noah stammered, visibly astonished, seeing his meticulously architected plan go down the drain.

The judge, without wasting a second, stretched his arm towards Noah and proclaimed with a voice that reverberated throughout the amphitheater: "The competitor Dean Carleone has just surrendered. The winner of the duel is Noah Centineo!"

"WHAT?!" The audience echoed in unison, a symphony of disbelief. Everyone there, petrified with looks that mixed confusion and astonishment. The climax of the battle, promising to be a breathtaking hand-to-hand clash, crumbled in seconds. Dean, with a smile that suggested a mixture of satisfaction and provocation, seemed to almost enjoy the general astonishment, especially Noah's.

"Why? Just as the climax approached, why did you choose to surrender?" Noah shouted, between shock and incredulity, as if demanding an explanation for that masterful move that defied all logic of competition.

Dean, with a mischievous smile worthy of a cheater who just revealed his ace, let out a carefree laugh and began his triumphant walk towards the exit of the arena, throwing over his shoulder: "You did well, Noah. Good luck in the next round."

"Wait a minute! Don't you dare turn your back on me! Our duel is not over yet!" Noah exploded, his voice a mixture of frustration and challenge, as he set off in pursuit of the elusive Dean.

"Hey, the show is over, my dear!" Dean threw back, his voice tinged with alarm as he saw a true human war tank approaching. He then quickened his pace, trying to keep a safe distance. "Come back here, Dean Carleone! Your surrender will only be accepted on the condition of being by my hand!"

"Give me a break, I'm more done than a series canceled in the first season!" Dean tried to argue, looking for some breath.

"No way!" Noah retorted, his determination unwavering.

The pursuit extended outside the arena, invading the corridor, with Dean trying to shake off Noah, who showed no signs of slowing down the hunt. The audience, previously just shocked, was now dumbfounded by the surreal scene. Ellie, with her mouth open, couldn't believe the outcome of that contention, while Sam couldn't contain his laughter. Blake, watching from a distant point, allowed himself a smile, perhaps enjoying the absurd comedy of the moment or perhaps something deeper that only he understood.

"My dear, are you after an autograph? I promise I'll get one for you later! Now, please, give my lungs a break, they're asking for mercy!" Dean exclaimed, panting and running as if his life depended on it, in a desperate attempt to escape.

"I'm here for the fight, Dean Carleone! Where did all that energy you had before go? Come on, go back to the arena and show what you're capable of!" Noah counterattacked, his voice full of challenge and determination, refusing to let the adrenaline of the moment dissipate.

In the VIP box, Angeline couldn't contain her laughter as she witnessed the unexpected epilogue of that battle. Ethan, on the other hand, remained with his usual calm, although the conclusion of the fight left him with a bittersweet taste.

"Ah, it had to be a Carleone to pull off something like that, didn't it?" Angeline commented between laughs, enjoying the scene.

The battle, which promised to be an unequal clash comparable to a wolf hunting a rabbit, surprisingly evolved into a titanic confrontation between two equally cunning and fierce predators. Noah and Dean fought with the tenacity of those who are not willing to give an inch, delivering a memorable performance. Through the stadium, Dean continued his relentless escape, with Noah on his heels, a pursuit that bordered on the comic by the relentless persistence.

"What is your opinion on this, director?" Lizy asked as she addressed the academy director, both watching the now silent arena through the glass of the box.

"Peculiar," was the director's answer, a man of measured words. "But definitely, Dean is not an ordinary student."