I Was Born With A Bloodline That Ended The World-Chapter 98: Justin Harman

"START!"

Justin stood there, his expression calm and patient as his opponent shifted nervously.

The arena floor felt smaller suddenly, the energy of the crowd pressing down as if everyone was holding their breath.

His opponent was already inching back, shoulders tense, eyes darting around like he was trying to find a way out.

His hands were clenched tight, but even from here, Justin could see the uncertainty in his posture.

Justin didn’t move. He just tilted his head slightly, as if he were studying the other boy’s footwork.

A small smile played at the corner of his mouth, just enough to show that he wasn’t worried.

The opponent’s breathing was quick, sharp. Justin took a single step forward, and it was like a stone dropped into a still pond. His opponent flinched, his foot scraping backward across the sand.

Justin’s eyes flicked down, noticing the slight gap in the other boy’s stance. He shifted his weight slightly, just enough to draw in a breath.

Then he moved.

It was fast. Too fast for the opponent to even react. Justin’s form flickered and vanished for a heartbeat, reappearing just inches in front of the other boy.

His feet slammed into the ground, and in the same instant, the sand around them cracked and burst.

A ripple of force spread from where he pushed off, his body already weaving through the space with inhuman precision.

His opponent’s eyes widened, too late. Justin’s hand was already out, fingers splayed.

Purple fire flickered along his arm, dancing in bright, ghostly arcs. He didn’t even bother to close his fist as he swung.

The slap of his palm against the opponent’s chest was thunderous.

The purple flame surged, snapping and popping as the other boy’s muscles seized, his entire body going rigid.

The crowd gasped, some of them even taking a step back from the edge of the stands.

Justin didn’t stop there. His other hand shot forward, a blur of movement as he grabbed his opponent by the collar and yanked him off the ground like he weighed nothing.

A twist of his hips, a pivot of his heel, and he flung him back. The boy hit the ground with a wet thud, dust puffing around his shoulders as he skidded across the floor.

Silence, for just a heartbeat.

Then Justin’s voice, calm and almost bored: "Get up."

His opponent tried, his limbs jerking as the last of the purple flame left him, but Justin didn’t wait.

His foot slammed down on the ground, and the earth responded. A spire of rock jutted up like a battering ram, stopping just inches from his opponent’s chest.

The message was clear. Justin wasn’t going to let him breathe.

The crowd went wild, some cheering, some just stunned silent. But Justin didn’t react. He just took a slow breath, his eyes steady, and waited for the next move.

His opponent managed to push himself up, one hand on the ground, breathing hard.

His face was pale, his eyes wide with the realization that he wasn’t just outmatched, he was fighting something he couldn’t touch.

Justin shifted his weight forward again, his foot dragging slightly across the sand.

This time, his opponent didn’t even get the chance to raise his guard before Justin was on him, teleporting in short, jarring flashes and purple fire dancing between his fingertips as he swung forward, a calm precision in every strike.

The crowd watched in a hush, some leaning forward, others holding their breath.

The atmosphere itself felt heavy, filled with the crackling energy of Justin’s teleportation and the haunting beauty of his purple fire.

When it ended, it was as sudden as it had begun. Justin’s final blow sent his opponent sprawling, sliding across the sand and stopping just short of the wall. The boy didn’t get up.

Justin exhaled, letting the last of the flickering purple flames die out around his fingers.

He didn’t look at the crowd or the instructors. He just turned and walked back to the center of the arena, his posture relaxed and his expression calm.

The match was over.

Rhian narrowed his eyes as he watched Justin move. Teleporting, that was actually pretty cool, he wouldn’t lie. A faint jealousy stirred in him.

But he also had to admit something else. Justin hadn’t shown much, not enough for anyone to plan against.

It was all raw power, precise strikes, and that teleportation that turned him into a ghost in the arena.

Nia nudged him, her voice cutting into his thoughts. "You think you can take him?"

Rhian hesitated, rolling the question around in his head. He didn’t know. But he felt it, deep down, if he went all out, if he used everything he had and didn’t hold back even a fraction, he could.

He didn’t answer her. The glint in his eyes said enough, he also wanted to find out.

Rhian narrowed his eyes as he watched the next fight begin. Justin’s teleporting and purple flame abilities had already left a strong impression.

"What about you?" he asked, turning his gaze to Nia. He was genuinely curious.

She gave a slight nod, her expression thoughtful. "Hard to say," she admitted. "He’s D rank already, so maybe if I use my lightning body, I could hold my own."

Rhian nodded, accepting her words. He watched the next match unfold, his mind already turning to strategies and what he’d need to bring out in himself if he ended up facing someone like Justin.

He knew that if he truly wanted to win this tournament, he’d end up facing Justin in the finals. And deep down, he was confident he’d get there.

And as for how to defeat Justin, Rhian knew he’d figure that out when he crossed that bridge.

It wasn’t like he had no chance, even if the odds seemed high. He wasn’t foolish enough to underestimate someone who was already a D rank.

But he also knew that in real fights, a single opening could change everything, no matter the gap in power.

Rhian wasn’t sure if he would win, he wasn’t even sure how close he would get.

But he felt a small thrill at the thought of testing himself against someone that strong.

If Justin was the wall in his path, then Rhian wanted to see how far he could climb.