The entire arena went silent.

The emissary's voice trembled with disbelief. "Wait—what is going on?! This is… outstanding! For the first time, someone has broken Asta's ice spear—barehanded!"

Murmurs rippled through the audience.

"That's impossible…" one voice shouted.

"N-No one can touch Asta's magic without being frozen solid!" another cried.

Asta's expression hardened, his usual confidence faltering for the first time. He… broke it? Just like that?

He clenched his fist, feeling the faint sting of his own mana reacting. No… it's not possible. Anyone who even grazes that ice should freeze instantly. So why didn't he?

A strange feeling began to creep up his spine. His instincts screamed at him—warning him to back away.

He looked at Nolan again. The man hadn't moved an inch. He just stood there, calm, almost detached, his hand still faintly glowing from the energy that had shattered the attack. His expression was unreadable.

This guy… Asta thought, his throat tightening. He's dangerous. Who is he, really?

But he shook his head, forcing the doubt away. It doesn't matter. No matter who he is, I'll crush him here.

The arena trembled again as Asta gathered even greater mana around him—frost spiraling like a storm.

And Nolan… simply smiled.

Asta's eyes glowed with power as frost spread across the ground, freezing the very air. He lifted his hand slowly, his mana surging to an overwhelming level.

Then—

A thousand spears of ice materialized above the arena, their sharp points glittering under the sun. The pressure was so intense that even the clouds above began to swirl.

The emissary's voice broke through the rising chaos, echoing through the amplifier. "Everyone, please stay calm! Royal mages—raise the barrier immediately! This attack… might reach the audience if it isn't contained!"

The royal mage standing near the king stepped forward, raising his staff high. Brilliant white magic spread across the entire coliseum like a dome, sealing everyone inside a shimmering barrier.

The crowd gasped at the sight.

"Now, you may continue!" the emissary shouted once the barrier was complete.

The audience erupted with cheers. The tension in the air thickened—pure mana clashing against the air itself.

Asta smirked. "One thousand spears," he declared, his voice echoing through the field. "Each one sharper than death itself. A single strike can kill a man instantly."

Frost enveloped his hands as he lowered them slightly. "This next move… is Smite. No matter how strong he is, there's no way he'll escape this. Maybe he was lucky before—but that luck ends now."

Asta thrust his hand forward.

Instantly, the sky turned white. Thousands of massive ice spears shot downward all at once, their speed tearing through the air with sonic force. The sound was deafening—like thunder splitting the heavens apart.

Nolan didn't move. His expression remained calm.

A soft pulse of energy radiated from his body. A faint shimmer spread outward, invisible to most of the audience—but those with keen sight noticed how the very air seemed to bend around him.

Then, the first spear struck.

BOOM!

The impact echoed like an explosion, shaking the entire arena. Then another. And another. In seconds, hundreds of spears slammed into the invisible barrier surrounding Nolan, each one bursting into shards of frozen mist.

"Two hundred already…" Asta muttered, sweat starting to form on his brow.

From the stands, the crowd could barely keep up.

"Wow, this is unbelievable!" one spectator shouted.

"Yeah! Asta's incredible—but look at Nolan! He's not even moving!" another yelled.

"He's just standing there, taking all that magic head-on! That's insane!"

A group of older adventurers whispered among themselves.

"You saw his last fight, right? Asta once filled the arena with a hundred spears—but this time it's a thousand," one said.

"Yeah… and Nolan didn't dodge. He's not like Zevric, who tried to run. He shattered Asta's ice with his bare hand. That kind of strength… that's beyond human," another replied.

The arena shook with the relentless impacts, ice shards scattering like a blizzard.

Inside the storm of spears, Nolan stood firm, his cloak fluttering in the wind. His eyes glowed faintly with energy, his hand resting lightly at his side.

The audience couldn't see it—but within that invisible barrier, time itself was bending. Every spear that struck him… slowed, froze, and shattered.

Asta gritted his teeth. "Keep going! No matter how strong you are—your mana can't last forever!"

Nolan's calm voice cut through the roaring wind.

"Is that so?"

Asta's voice cut through the roar, brimming with confidence. "Trust me — you're the one who'll run out of mana. After my last fight, my body pushed itself to the limit. My mana capacity has increased. Prepare yourself, whoever you are."

Nolan didn't answer. He didn't need to. He watched each spear strike the invisible barrier around him — hundreds, then thousands — and remained utterly still. If he had chosen to grip his sword properly, he could end the fight in an instant. He could cut through Asta's pride like paper. But the crowd wanted a spectacle, and Nolan understood that. Let them have a show. This wouldn't be a long fight, he thought. He wasn't one for unnecessary cruelty.

As the thousand spears slammed down, they turned the arena into a choking frost—an opaque fog of glittering ice and frozen mist that swallowed sight. For a moment no one could see anything but white.

Then, as the wind shifted and the fog thinned, Nolan emerged through the haze, standing calm with his sword in hand. He looked at the ruined spears scattered like shattered stars, and with a cool, low voice said, "Is that all you've got?"

Silence fell. For half a heartbeat the crowd held its breath — then erupted in a mixture of shock and cheers.

Asta's jaw clenched. He had expected panic, not composure. He gathered himself, eyes burning, and raised his sword, its blade forming with crackling ice. "This ends now!" he shouted, and then charged forward, intent on piercing Nolan.

"He's actually running toward me… bad idea," Nolan thought, watching Asta close the distance. "He should've kept his range. But fine—he's good with the sword. I saw his match with Zevric. Let's see how well he handles mine."

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