Tanaka, so overwhelmed with gratitude and recognising the profound wisdom Noah had just shared with him, began to lower himself into a formal bow.

A deep, respectful bow, a student offers to their master.

"Noah, please allow me to—" Tanaka began as he started to bend forward, his intention clear to everyone watching.

"Master Tanaka, no!" Noah immediately stepped forward and gently but firmly caught his former teacher's shoulders, preventing the bow from completing. His voice carried genuine alarm at the thought of such a reversal of their relationship.

"Please, don't do that," Noah said with sincere humility, his tone respectful but insistent. "You are still my teacher and always will be. What happened here today wasn't me teaching you—it was simply one martial artist helping another recognise something that was already within them."

Noah's expression showed deep respect as he continued. "You taught me when I knew nothing. Without your guidance when I was starting out, I wouldn't be here. This breakthrough was yours to achieve—I just happened to be in the right place at the right time to assist."

The sincerity in Noah's voice resonated through the training ground as he maintained his position, ensuring Tanaka couldn't complete the formal bow that would have fundamentally altered their relationship.

"A student can sometimes offer insights to their teacher without becoming the master," Noah added gently. "That's the beauty of martial arts—we all continue learning from each other regardless of rank or experience."

The watching crowd was moved by Noah's humility and wisdom, recognising that his refusal to accept the bow demonstrated the very qualities that had made him worthy of inspiring his teacher's breakthrough in the first place.

With ten minutes left for the match, Noah and everyone else started making their way towards the arena. The energy throughout the resort had reached a fever pitch as spectators realised they were about to witness what promised to be an exceptional finale to an already memorable tournament.

Kenzo was nowhere to be seen; whether he warmed up or not was unknown. But the spectators or competitors didn't look down on him. For Kenzo to reach the finals, he clearly knew what he was doing.

Noah went to the designated waiting area where finalists prepared before being called to the platform. The small room provided a quiet space away from the crowd's excitement, allowing him to maintain his focus while the anticipation built to its peak outside.

"Noah Carter, Kenzo Strawman, please make your way to the platform."

Noah stood up from his seat, composed, then made his way to the platform with calm steps. He was neither rushing nor slow; his expression revealed nothing, maintaining the same neutral mask he had worn throughout the tournament, as if nothing significant was weighing on his mind despite the poisoning attempt and personal vendetta that had transformed this from a simple competition that he wanted to experience into something much more serious.

Kenzo also walked towards the platform, though his demeanour had changed dramatically from his previous matches. The confident smile he always wore was conspicuously absent from his face, replaced by a more serious expression that suggested he was taking this final confrontation with the attitude it deserved.

As they both took their positions on the elevated platform, the referee stepped forward to address the packed audience. This was the finals after all, and the ceremony needed to match the significance of the moment that would crown the tournament's ultimate victor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the final battle for the title of Arena Champion!" the referee announced.

He began explaining the substantial benefits that would accompany the Arena Champion title, wanting the audience to understand exactly what stakes these two fighters were competing for beyond simple bragging rights.

The main benefits that were hidden were always the same, but the lower perks were always on display and changed regularly.

"The champion will first receive the prize of one million dollars," he announced, pausing as appreciative murmurs rippled through the crowd. A million dollars wasn't much to everyone present in the crowd, except for some competitors who might not have a good background.

"Additionally," he continued with building excitement, "the champion will receive a custom-made sword forged by one of the master blacksmiths, crafted specifically for the victor's fighting style and preferences."

The spectators immediately began talking among themselves with obvious excitement. A sword made by a master blacksmith was nothing simple—it represented far more value than even the million-dollar prize. These legendary craftsmen didn't accept commissions even for millions of dollars, instead focusing entirely on perfecting their craft using metals that were extremely rare and difficult to obtain.

"That's incredible," someone whispered in the crowd. "One time, I had tried to get a sword from a master blacksmith that I had spent a lot just to get in touch with. In the end, he refused to work with me. Getting a custom weapon from them is priceless."

"The materials alone are worth more than most people make in a lifetime, it's deserved. Whoever wins the finals has immense talent and experience under his fingertips," another spectator added with awe.

The way the referee emphasised that this was merely the "first" prize clearly indicated there were additional rewards to be revealed, making the championship title even more valuable than the already impressive benefits he had announced.

"Now that the rewards are stated, the battle may begin when the leaf falls to the ground," the referee announced.

"I want no foul play in this battle," he continued, his tone becoming more serious as he addressed both fighters directly. However, he was addressing Kenzo more clearly because of his performance in the quarter-finals. "You are both talents that come once in a lifetime, and this match should be decided by skill and determination alone."

Neither Kenzo nor Noah acknowledged his words with even the slightest nod or gesture of agreement. Both fighters remained perfectly still, their eyes locked on each other with an intensity that made the air around the platform feel charged. Whether they intended to follow the referee's instructions about fair play remained completely unknown to the watching crowd.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.