Summoned As A Mere Nobody-Yet Possesses An SSS-Rank Ability-Chapter 251: Nolan Vs The Elf Prince

Linda blinked. Celia and Lyra leaned in slightly.

"When you activate that skill, time doesn’t just slow down—you perceive every motion, every shift, every detail before it even happens."

He tapped her forehead lightly.

"That alone gives you an overwhelming advantage."

Nolan crossed his arms, explaining calmly, "Against Prince Zohar, it’s not even a question. Your reading ability completely counters his fighting style. You can easily defeat him."

Linda exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

But then Nolan raised one finger. "However... your father is different."

Her eyes widened.

"He’s strong enough to resist being predicted. And even if he goes all out, reading alone won’t guarantee victory."

He stepped back, giving her space.

"To beat King Zul, you’ll need more than reading. You’ll need courage, confidence, and the ability to react while under pressure."

He pointed at her chest—right over her heart.

"And you have that. You just don’t realize it yet."

Linda’s breath trembled as she stared up at him.

Nolan’s expression sharpened, and his tone became commanding.

"So remove every drop of nervousness from your mind. You’re not fighting to impress anyone. You’re fighting to win."

Linda’s eyes brightened—determination filling them.

"...Yes, Master."

Lyra crossed her arms, her expression serious.

"But Master... are you truly sure?" she asked. "Prince Zohar losing to Linda is guaranteed, I won’t deny that. But her father... his power already surpasses hers. Even if Linda reads his movements, I don’t think that alone will be enough to stop him."

The room fell silent.

Nolan didn’t answer immediately. He simply closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them again.

"You’re right," he said calmly. "In terms of raw power alone, King Zul surpasses Linda. Reading by itself won’t be enough."

Lyra exhaled softly. "I thought so..."

Nolan continued, his voice steady. "But that isn’t the real reason her father will lose."

Everyone looked at him.

"The one thing that will defeat King Zul... is himself."

Linda blinked. "My... father?"

"Yes," Nolan said. "His arrogance. His absolute confidence in his own strength."

Nolan turned toward Linda. "You’ve grown far more than you realize. Your defense has improved. Your speed has improved. And most importantly, your reactions have sharpened."

Linda clenched her fists slightly.

"I believe you can dodge every single attack he throws at you," Nolan said. "Even if he goes all out."

Lyra’s eyes widened. "But Master... even so—"

"There’s more," Nolan interrupted gently.

Linda looked up at him.

"When you truly use your skill at its peak, you don’t just read your opponent," Nolan said. "You see three... sometimes four seconds ahead."

The room went quiet.

"That’s no longer prediction," Nolan continued. "That’s foresight. It’s almost the same as seeing the future."

Lyra inhaled sharply. "...I didn’t even think of that."

Nolan nodded. "Exactly."

Before anyone could speak again, a knock echoed against the door.

Two elven attendants entered, carrying wooden trays made of woven leaves. On them were plates of roasted fish wrapped in fragrant green leaves. Each plate held three fish—except for one plate placed carefully in front of Linda, which held five.

The attendants bowed and left without a word.

Linda stared at the plate. "...Master, take mine."

Nolan shook his head. "No. Eat."

"But—"

"You’re King Zul’s daughter," Nolan said firmly. "And you’ll be fighting soon. You’ll need the energy."

Linda hesitated, then nodded.

As they ate, Damian glanced at the food with curiosity. "They really use leaves for everything."

Lyra smiled faintly. "Elves know which leaves enhance flavor, healing, and even mana recovery. They’re experts when it comes to natural refinement."

"It’s good," Nolan said after a bite. "Different... but good."

After the meal, Nolan stood. "Everyone rest. Especially you, Linda."

Two hours passed.

Then came another knock.

This time, two elven knights stood outside, their expressions formal.

"It is time," one of them said.

Linda looked at Nolan.

He nodded once.

"Let’s move."

They were escorted out of the room, through the massive corridors of the fortress. As they passed into the city, Nolan noticed something strange.

The streets were empty.

No merchants. No children. No voices.

"...Where did everyone go?" Nolan asked.

Linda answered quietly, "The arena."

As they continued walking, distant sounds began to rise—chants, cheers, anger, excitement. The closer they got, the louder it became.

When they reached the entrance, one knight stopped Nolan.

"Sir, this way."

Nolan was guided toward the arena floor, while Linda, Lyra, Damian, and Celia were led into the stands.

The moment Nolan stepped onto the arena, the crowd erupted.

Thousands of elven eyes locked onto him.

Some stared in curiosity.

Some in disbelief.

Others in pure hostility.

"A human!"

"How dare he!"

"He should die!"

The chants grew louder.

One voice cut through the rest.

"You will die here, human!"

Nolan looked around calmly, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

From the stands, Linda gripped the railing, her heart pounding.

The arena gates creaked open.

And from the opposite side, a powerful presence stepped forward.

That was when the massive gate on the opposite side of the arena slowly opened.

A blinding light reflected off polished metal.

Prince Zohar stepped out.

He wore shining mithril armor, engraved with ancient elven runes that glowed faintly under the sunlight. A sword rested calmly at his side, its hilt wrapped in green silk, while a finely crafted bow lay across his back. Every step he took was steady, confident, overflowing with pride.

The crowd erupted instantly.

"PRINCE ZOHAR!"

"SHOW HIM HIS PLACE!"

"MAKE THE HUMAN REGRET COMING HERE!"

Elves stood from their seats, chanting his name, raising their fists, some even glowing faintly with excitement as mana leaked from their bodies. Prince Zohar lifted one hand and waved casually, basking in their praise. The chanting grew louder, almost deafening.

He climbed onto the arena floor and stopped a short distance from Nolan, staring at him with cold, unblinking eyes—eyes that held no respect, only disdain.

Then an elven announcer stepped forward, his voice amplified by magic.

"Everyone! It’s me again!" he shouted. "Today, a mere human dared to enter our sacred land and made outrageous claims!"

Boos filled the air.

"He claimed he could defeat Prince Zohar," the announcer continued, "and not just that—he even said he could defeat King Zul himself!"

The crowd exploded.

"And as if that weren’t enough," the announcer sneered, "he said that even if our entire elven tribe fought him together, he would still win!"

Rage surged through the stands. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"This filthy human has forgotten his place!"

"He should die!"

"Behead him and hang his head in the streets!"

"Yes! Kill him!"

The hatred rolled like waves.

The announcer raised both hands. "Now, now! Calm yourselves—I’m not finished!"

The crowd quieted slightly.

"This battle will be quick," he declared. "The great prince of our neighboring tribe—Prince Zohar—will now teach this human what true power is!"

He pointed dramatically at Nolan.

"Prince Zohar—please... KILL HIM!"

The arena erupted again.

Meanwhile, in the stands, Linda, Celia, Damian, and Lyra stood together.

"Master! You can do this!"

"You’ve got this!"

Their voices cut against the hatred, standing out like sparks in darkness.

Nearby elves turned toward them with disgust.

"What are humans doing here?"

"Even the princess is siding with him?"

Some elves moved away, unwilling to sit near them.

Still, they kept shouting.

"Master! You can do this!"

The announcer raised his hand sharply.

"Let the match begin!"

Prince Zohar’s gaze locked onto Nolan.

"I’ll make this quick," he said coldly. "Prepare to die."

He drew his sword in one smooth motion and dashed forward, closing the distance in an instant.

The blade flashed toward Nolan’s head.

Slash.

Nolan tilted his head slightly.

The sword missed.

Another slash—faster.

Nolan leaned aside again, calm, precise.

Prince Zohar increased his speed, his sword becoming a blur. He attacked relentlessly, aiming for Nolan’s neck, chest, shoulders—every vital point.

But Nolan kept dodging.

Step. Tilt. Shift.

Not a single step backward.

Not a trace of panic.

Prince Zohar leaped back, landing heavily, breathing sharply.

"...Tch."

The crowd murmured.

Then Prince Zohar raised his sword.

"Enough," he muttered. "I’ll use my skill."

Mana surged.

"Wind Enchant—Burning Gale!"

A violent breeze tore through the arena. The air heated instantly as swirling hot wind wrapped around the blade. The sword glowed, radiating intense heat, distorting the air around it.

Prince Zohar charged again, faster than before.

The blade came straight for Nolan’s face.

Nolan didn’t move.

He calmly raised two fingers.

And caught the tip of the sword.

The burning wind vanished on contact.

The arena fell silent.

"...What?"

Prince Zohar’s eyes widened.

Nolan looked straight at him.

"Is that all you’ve got?" he said quietly. "Because if this is it... that’s honestly disappointing."

Prince Zohar yanked his sword back and jumped away, his breathing ragged.

What... what is this? he thought.

He’s just a human.

Humans fell behind long ago. Elves surpassed them.

So why... why is it him?

His mind raced.

I knew he was strong the moment he pushed me earlier. That soft push sent me sliding into a pillar...

Good thing I prepared.

His eyes flicked briefly to the ground beneath the arena.

I set traps. If I can’t win head-on... I’ll use them