Second Life Paradise

'System'

[Scanning.....]

[Ding]

[Status]

• Name: Edwardo Silva
• Race: Elf
• Age: 17
• Bloodline: Elf Master
• Realm: Master
• Potential: Sovereign
• Strength: 2130
• Agility: 2470
• Mana: 2700
• Stamina: 2050
• Dexterity: 2240

Oh, he is not bad, Asher mused, examining Edwardo's stats. But compared to me, it’s a bit subpar. Asher wasn’t one to look down on others, but he was aware of his own exceptional abilities. It wasn’t arrogance or pride; he simply understood that he was different from most. Facing Edwardo, he felt confident enough to forgo a weapon, instead adopting a multi-style martial arts stance.

"Do you not use a weapon, boy?" Edwardo asked, a hint of condescension in his voice.

Boy? He’s not much older than I am, Asher thought. In this place called Paradise, one became an adult at the age of sixteen, so Edwardo's comment held a degree of truth. Asher didn’t care much for it, but he suspected Edwardo might be a bit too arrogant for his own good.

"I have no need for one against you," Asher replied with a slight smile. He wasn’t concerned with Edwardo’s opinions; instead, he matched the boy's arrogance and gestured for him to make the first move. Edwardo's expression contorted slightly at the challenge.

Without further ado, Edwardo surrounded himself in an aura, and the air crackled with tension as he prepared to face Asher, rapier in hand.

Edwardo struck first, his blade a blur of silver as it shot forward in a precise thrust aimed at Asher’s chest. But Asher anticipated the strike, seamlessly weaving to the side. His movement was smooth, akin to a dancer escaping danger. Before Edwardo could retract his blade, Asher closed the distance, launching a lightning-fast jab aimed at Edwardo's ribs.

Edwardo barely had time to twist his body, avoiding the brunt of the blow, but Asher was relentless. The moment his first punch missed, his other fist was already driving forward, hammering into Edwardo’s side. A sharp exhale escaped Edwardo as he staggered, pain jolting through his ribs.

He stepped back, trying to regain distance, but Asher pressed forward, granting him no reprieve. Another punch, aimed higher this time. Edwardo parried with the hilt of his rapier, deflecting the blow, but Asher didn't relent. His fists came in quick, brutal succession, each strike testing Edwardo's defenses.

Asher was enjoying himself, a grin distorting his handsome features into something that felt strangely sinister, sending chills down the spines of the spectators. Even Asher himself didn’t fully grasp the look on his face at that moment.

Not wanting to waste any more time with the elf, Asher prepared to finish the fight. As Edwardo took a brief moment to think, he suddenly found himself kicked into the air. Asher followed, leaping after him. Asher now hovered above Edwardo, his fist surrounded by black flames. The audience felt the heat radiating from the fire, despite it being confined to his hand.

With a powerful thrust, Asher drove his fist into Edwardo's gut, sending him crashing down with a thunderous boom. The arena shook, and snow erupted in a cloud around them.

To say Edward and the others were surprised would be an understatement. They hadn’t underestimated the young boy, but they hadn’t expected him to handle Edwardo with such ease. Their gazes shifted to the handsome boy standing in the snow, his expression bored and not a single scratch marring his flawless skin.

Edwardo jumped back into the arena, retrieving his now-unconscious disciple. He didn’t mind his loss; rather, he was surprised by the outcome. Knowing Edwardo’s arrogance, he felt satisfied with the results.

"Thank you, child," Edward said, and with a flicker, he disappeared, reappearing in the stands with his disciple.

"Who’s next?" Asher called out, looking at the other disciples and their respective masters.

Before long, two humans stepped up into the arena, their faces radiating pride and an aura of arrogance, as if they were proclaiming their superiority. They were not looking down on Asher; having seen how he fought, they were eager to test their skills against him. After all, they had grown up believing themselves to be better than their peers, even earning high ranks at the Academy known for nurturing thousands of geniuses.

"Nice to meet you. My name is Rin Starcrest," one said.

"Nice to meet you. I’m Eira Starcrest," the other chimed in.

The twins offered their greetings, markedly more cordial than Edwardo had been.

"Nice to meet you as well. My name is Asher Nii Raven," Asher replied, giving a slight bow to the pair.

"Will you use your weapon now?" Rin asked, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"If you can make me, then I will," Asher replied, his tone devoid of arrogance, simply stating it as a natural fact. The twins didn’t mind; they were just as confident in their skills.

Rin pulled out a sword with a green handle adorned with platinum jewels, its blade gleaming under the snow—a truly beautiful weapon. Eira, on the other hand, unsheathed two white daggers that matched the color of the snow, getting into position. Though they could fight one-on-one, their master had instructed them to work together to showcase their combined skills.

As they assumed their stances, their auras flared, prompting a smile from Asher.

Strong, he noted, though a bead of cold sweat trickled down his neck. He could tell they were significantly stronger than Edwardo. Asher shifted back into his mixed martial arts stance, preparing for the upcoming 1v2 battle. He silently called upon his long-time assistant for assistance in gauging their levels.

'System.'

Meanwhile, Zion, the master of the two humans in the arena, glanced over at Veylnn, a worried expression crossing his features.

"Will your disciple be alright?" Zion asked, not intending to belittle her student but wary of offending Veylnn during their sparring match. He understood the boy was strong, but youth often came with its own vulnerabilities.

Veylnn turned her gaze toward him, a slight smile playing on her lips—an expression that surprised him, given her usually indifferent demeanor.

"Is it really my disciple you should be worried about?" she said playfully before returning her attention to the arena, her expression reverting to its usual calm.

Zion felt perplexed but redirected his focus back to the arena, where his disciples were getting into their stances.