The Genius Mage Was Reincarnated Into A Swordsman Family-Chapter 180: A Measure Of Growth (4)

Team 13 moved first, their formation expanding with practiced precision. Rather than attacking directly, they began a methodical encirclement, clearly intending to control the battlefield and dictate the flow of combat.

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Klaus remained still, allowing the maneuver to develop. He could see Varis's strategy taking shape—isolation tactics, designed to separate Team 55 and eliminate them individually.

"Stand your ground," he ordered quietly.

Team 55 held position, their apparent passivity causing a flicker of confusion to cross Varis's face. This wasn't what their intelligence had predicted. Team 55 typically launched aggressive opening gambits, utilizing their speed and Alexandra's precision to disrupt enemy formations.

The hesitation lasted only a moment before Varis adapted, signaling his team to tighten their encirclement.

Perfect.

"Now," Klaus commanded.

Team 55 burst into motion—not outward as expected, but inward. They collapsed their formation into a tight defensive cluster, a maneuver that appeared retreating but served a different purpose altogether. Their auras began to synchronize, the familiar pattern of the Lion's Roar Formation taking shape.

Klaus watched Varis's reaction closely. The commander's eyes narrowed, a satisfied smile forming on his lips. He signaled to his team, and they immediately shifted into a counter-formation specifically designed to disrupt energy synchronization.

"Hold steady," Klaus ordered, even as Team 13 closed in.

The spectral outline of the Lion's Claw began to manifest around Team 55, growing more distinct with each passing second. Team 13 accelerated their approach, converging on the formation with calculated precision.

Varis's team struck just as the Lion's Claw reached its apex of formation—exactly when it would be most vulnerable to disruption.

The moment of impact arrived.

And everything changed.

Instead of maintaining the Lion's Roar, Team 55 suddenly dispersed—five fighters moving in five different directions, their auras shifting from the concentrated pattern of the Lion's Claw into the scattered configuration of the Phoenix Wing.

Energy that had been gathering for a single strike suddenly fragmented into multiple vectors, catching Team 13 completely unprepared.

Juron slammed into their left flank, his raw power magnified by the unexpected angle of attack. Finn and Darius struck from opposite sides, their synchronized movements forcing Team 13's formation to stretch thin. Nolan targeted their rear support, disrupting the stability of their entire structure.

And Alexandra—she moved directly toward Varis, her blade wreathed in cyan energy, her speed practically doubling as she utilized a technique they had developed specifically for this moment.

Varis reacted with the skill of a veteran commander, parrying her strike and countering with a vicious slash of his own. But even as he engaged Alexandra, his formation was collapsing around him.

Klaus moved like a shadow through the chaos, utilizing Phantom Step to appear where least expected, delivering precise strikes before vanishing again. He never remained in one place long enough to become a target, instead functioning as an invisible threat that forced Team 13 to divide their attention.

The first round ended in less than two minutes.

Two of Team 13's members were down, incapacitated by Juron and Finn's coordinated assault. The remaining three, including Varis, had managed to regroup, but their confident demeanor had vanished, replaced by grim determination.

As they reset for the second round, Varis studied Team 55 with new respect and growing frustration. His eyes locked onto Klaus, recognizing the architect of his team's unexpected strategy.

The second round began with a different approach from Team 13. Gone was the methodical encirclement, replaced by a direct, overwhelming assault. Varis led the charge personally, his aura flaring with controlled intensity as he targeted Klaus directly.

But Klaus had anticipated this as well.

"Switch," he commanded sharply.

Team 55 executed a rapid reconfiguration. Juron stepped forward to intercept Varis, while Klaus shifted to engage one of the flanking attackers. Alexandra moved in perfect sync with this change, her cyan blade forming a defensive arc that protected Finn and Darius as they maneuvered to isolate Team 13's remaining member.

Varis found himself suddenly facing Juron's raw power instead of Klaus's precision—a matchup that forced him to abandon his planned sequence and fight reactively.

The arena echoed with the clash of blades and the discharge of aura techniques as both teams engaged in full-intensity combat. Team 13 fought with the skill and coordination that had earned them their undefeated record, adapting rapidly to Team 55's unexpected strategies.

But adaptation required understanding, and Team 55 gave them nothing stable to grasp.

Each time Team 13 adjusted to a pattern, Team 55 would shift into something different. Their formations were fluid, their tactics unpredictable, their movements synchronized yet seemingly improvised.

Varis fought with increasing intensity, his frustration manifesting in more aggressive attacks. He managed to land a solid strike on Juron, forcing him back, and immediately pressed the advantage, seeking to eliminate one of Team 55's core members.

It was the opening Klaus had been waiting for.

"Alexandra, Finn—execute!" he called.

Alexandra disengaged from her current opponent and converged on Varis from the right. Finn approached from the left. They moved in perfect harmony, their attacks forcing Varis to defend from multiple angles simultaneously.

In that moment of divided attention, Klaus struck.

Using Phantom Step, he vanished from his position and reappeared directly behind Varis. His blade moved with blinding speed, striking not with its edge but with its flat against Varis's back—a precise blow that targeted nerve clusters.

Varis staggered, momentarily paralyzed by the strike. Before he could recover, Alexandra and Finn had disarmed him, forcing him to his knees.

The remaining members of Team 13, seeing their leader subdued, fought with desperate intensity. But without Varis's direction, their cohesion fractured.

One by one, they fell.

When the final member of Team 13 was forced to surrender, a stunned silence fell over the arena. Then, like a breaking wave, sound erupted as spectators reacted to the unprecedented outcome.

Team 13, the undefeated elite of White Lion, had lost. And not in a close battle decided by endurance or a lucky strike—they had been systematically dismantled by superior tactics and flawless execution.

As Captain Kalix stepped forward to officially declare Team 55 the victors, Klaus met Varis's gaze across the field. The commander's eyes burned with a mixture of disbelief and grudging respect.

"That wasn't the Lion's Roar Formation," Varis said quietly as Klaus approached.

"No," Klaus agreed. "It wasn't."

"You knew we'd be prepared for it."

Klaus nodded once. "Just as I knew you'd be watching our training sessions."

Understanding dawned in Varis's eyes. "You showed us exactly what you wanted us to see."

"A commander who believes he has perfect intelligence is already defeated," Klaus replied, offering his hand to help Varis to his feet.

After a moment's hesitation, Varis accepted, rising to stand face-to-face with Klaus.

"You won't catch us unprepared twice," he warned, though there was a note of respect in his voice now.

"I would expect nothing less," Klaus answered.

As Team 55 left the arena, the implications of their victory rippled through the gathered crowd. They had defeated not just any squad, but Team 13—the benchmark against which all other teams were measured.

In the space of a few weeks, they had risen from obscurity to prominence, from underdogs to contenders.

Captain Kalix intercepted them before they could return to the barracks, his expression unreadable. "Impressive performance," he said, his voice low enough that only Klaus could hear. "Perhaps too impressive."

Klaus met his gaze steadily. "Sir?"

"You've attracted attention, Lionhart. Not just within White Lion. Word of your team's rise will spread, and questions will follow." Kalix's eyes narrowed slightly. "Questions about who you really are."

A cold weight settled in Klaus's stomach, but his expression revealed nothing. "We're exactly who we appear to be—soldiers following orders."

Kalix studied him for a long moment before nodding. "For now, that answer will suffice. But be prepared. Success brings scrutiny, and scrutiny brings discovery."

As Kalix walked away, Klaus felt Alexandra's presence at his side.

"What was that about?" she asked quietly.

Klaus watched Kalix's retreating figure, the captain's warning echoing in his mind. "Politics," he replied. "Our victory changes the power balance within White Lion."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not yet," Klaus said. "But it could become one."

Later that evening, as the squad celebrated their victory, Klaus stood apart, watching them with quiet satisfaction. They had exceeded even his expectations, adapting to his unorthodox methods and executing complex strategies with minimal preparation.

They were becoming what he needed them to be—not just skilled fighters, but versatile, unpredictable, and loyal. A team capable of facing the challenges that lay ahead.

As the night deepened, Klaus slipped away from the celebration, returning to the solitude of the training yard. The pale moonlight illuminated the empty space as he drew his sword and began moving through forms—not the regulated patterns taught at White Lion, but older, more fluid sequences that spoke of different training, different traditions.

He was aware of being watched but continued his practice, his movements deliberately revealing nothing unusual.

"You don't need to hide," he said without turning. "I know you're there."

Captain Kalix stepped from the shadows, his expression contemplative. "Interesting form," he remarked. "Not something taught at White Lion."

Klaus sheathed his sword. "I've studied many styles."

"So it seems." Kalix approached slowly. "Your victory today has earned Team 55 a new designation. Effective immediately, you're being reclassified as an elite combat unit."

Klaus raised an eyebrow. "What does that entail?"

"Advanced mission parameters. Higher-risk deployments. Greater autonomy." Kalix's gaze sharpened. "And more scrutiny from those above me."

"I see."

"Do you?" Kalix asked, his voice dropping. "Because what I saw today in that arena wasn't just tactical innovation or superior training. What I saw was a level of combat awareness that comes from experience—real combat experience."

Klaus remained silent, waiting.

"The question," Kalix continued, "is where you gained that experience. Because it wasn't at White Lion."

The night air seemed to grow colder as the two men regarded each other.

"Does it matter?" Klaus finally asked. "As long as I serve effectively?"

Kalix's lips tightened into a thin line. "It may not matter to me, but it will matter to others. The Council doesn't appreciate unknowns, especially not unknowns with your particular talents."

He turned to leave but paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Your first elite mission briefing will be tomorrow at dawn. I suggest you prepare your team."

As Kalix disappeared into the darkness, Klaus returned his attention to the ring on his finger, pulsing with faint energy. He channeled a sliver of arcane energy into it, feeling the connection strengthen slightly—not enough to reestablish the bond, but enough to confirm it wasn't completely severed.

"Soon," he whispered to the night air.

The challenges ahead would be greater than anything Team 55 had faced so far. The attention they had drawn would bring new enemies, new obstacles, new threats.

But they would face them together.

And they would prevail.

Because failure was not an option Klaus was willing to consider.

Not when he had come this far.