The Invincible Young Master

Victor gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on his sword. With a roar, he infused his blade with a shimmering blue aura and lunged forward.

Spark met the assault with ease, deflecting the strike with his wooden sword, the clash resonating through the arena.

"What?" Victor's eyes widened in disbelief as his powerful attack was effortlessly blocked by a mere wooden sword. His jaw clenched, and he charged again.

Under the relentless strikes of Victor, Spark moved with fluidity in his steps, his movements almost lazy as he deflected Victor's attacks with ease. Each of Victor's strikes, enhanced by his aura, met the solid defense of Spark's wooden sword, and each time, Spark's expression remained one of detached amusement.

"Just because you won against a few nobodies, you think of yourself as a genius?" Spark mocked, his voice carrying across the arena. He sidestepped another of Victor's attacks, his wooden sword coming down with a sharp crack against Victor's shoulder, sending a sharp pain through Victor's whole body.

Victor staggered back, the force of the blow almost making him lose his grip on his sword. He gritted his teeth, his aura flaring even brighter as he tried to regain his footing.

"You don't understand my resolve!" he shouted, his voice filled with desperation and determination. He launched himself at Spark again, his sword a blur of motion.

Spark yawned, almost exaggeratedly, as he dodged each of Victor's strikes. Not a single blow came close to landing.

"Is this all you've got?" Spark asked, his tone dripping with disdain. "You're not even making me break a sweat."

He swung his wooden sword, catching Victor again on the shoulder and sending him sprawling to the ground.

The crowd gasped, their eyes fixed on the two combatants. Victor, who had been undefeated previously, struggled to his feet, his aura flickering around him like a dying flame. He charged again, his movements fueled by sheer willpower.

Spark's eyes gleamed with a cold light as he intercepted Victor's attack, twisting his wrist to disarm him. Victor's sword flew from his grasp, clattering to the ground a few feet away.

"Pathetic," Spark said, his voice a soft, cutting whisper.

Victor dropped to one knee, panting heavily. He looked up at Spark, his eyes filled with frustration and humiliation.

"I… I won't give up!" he shouted, trying to summon his aura once more.

Spark's expression softened into one of mock pity.

"How noble of you," he said, almost kindly. Then, with a swift movement, he struck Victor across the chest with the wooden sword, the force of the blow sending Victor crashing to the ground. "But nobility alone won't win you battles."

Victor lay on the ground, gasping for breath, his aura completely dissipated. Spark stood before him, the wooden sword resting on his shoulder.

"Remember this feeling," Spark said, his voice cold and commanding. "Remember how easily you were defeated. Maybe it will teach you your place."

The crowd erupted in murmurs and gasps, the reality of Victor's defeat sinking in.

Spark turned away from Victor, his expression bored and disinterested.

"Just because you won against a few nobodies, you thought you could challenge me," Spark repeated, shaking his head as he began to walk away. "You're not even worth my time."

Victor lay on the ground, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The pain from Spark's blows radiated through his body, but his pride refused to let him stay down. Gritting his teeth, he tried to push himself up.

Spark, already walking away, stopped and glanced over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I guess even this low level of swordsmanship could be considered a genius for a branch family," he mocked, his voice carrying easily across the arena.

The crowd, which had been buzzing with shock and excitement, fell silent again, hanging on Spark's every word.

Victor, trembling with a mixture of pain and rage, managed to get to his knees. He glared at Spark's back, his determination undiminished.

"Come back and fight me!" Victor shouted, his voice hoarse but filled with defiance.

Spark didn't bother turning around. He waved a hand dismissively, his tone dripping with disdain. "I don't have free time to entertain you. Find someone else to amuse yourself with."

The crowd's murmurs filled the air as Spark turned away, disinterested. But Victor's spirit was far from broken. With a surge of determination, he struggled to his feet, his eyes locked on Spark's back.

Summoning the last of his strength, Victor charged at Spark, his intent clear and desperate.

The crowd gasped, anticipating the unexpected attack. But Spark, sensing the approach, moved with lightning speed. In one swift motion, he spun around, disarming Victor with a precise strike to his wrist.

Before he could react, Spark delivered a sharp smack with the wooden sword, sending Victor crashing to the ground once more.

"Sneak attack on a noble? You know even the tower won't be able to protect you for this offense," Spark said, his tone cold.

The steward, on the side, paled, knowing the atrocity Victor had just committed.

Spark raised the wooden sword, ready to punish, but the steward rushed forward, his face pale with fear. "Young lord, please, stop!"

Spark's eyes narrowed and asked. "Are you also going against me?"

The steward's face drained of color. "No, young lord. Forgive me, but the Tower Lord left Victor in my care."

"Oh, that old man did," Spark mused, lowering the wooden sword slightly. "Seeing it's that way, I can let him go, but I need compensation."

"Compensation?" The steward looked bewildered, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Compensation for wasting my time," Spark replied, his tone icy.

The steward swallowed hard, his mind racing.

"How should I compensate you, young lord?" the steward asked, a wry smile forced onto his face.

"Give me the Golden Pill, and I'll forget his repeated offenses," Spark demanded.

"But the Golden Pill..." The steward hesitated, his expression one of distress.

"Why are you being stingy? It is only one pill. I'm sure your tower can bring out many," Spark said, his voice filled with mockery.

In the end, the steward relented, reaching into his robe and handing Spark a small box with a golden pill inside.

Spark took it with a satisfied smile, tucking it away. "Consider this matter settled."

With that, Spark left the arena, his demeanor calm and composed. The crowd watched in stunned silence as he walked away, leaving Victor and the steward behind.