The room was silent, save for the subtle hum of mana in the air.
Noah remained still, his eyes darting around, trying to anticipate Xander's next move.
One moment he had been there, and the next, he was gone—vanished, as if he'd dissolved into thin air.
Noah's senses screamed danger.
'Where the hell did he go?'
Noah's mind raced, his body instinctively moving on its own, driven by survival instincts honed through constant training.
He quickly angled his ice spear diagonally in front of him, bracing for impact.
A split second later, Xander reappeared—his eyes glowing a dangerous shade of blue, the intensity in them almost murderous.
The sound of steel meeting ice echoed through the room as Xander's sword collided with Noah's spear, sending a powerful shockwave of air rippling outward.
The force of the impact sent a groan through Noah's body as he gritted his teeth, his fingers trembling under the weight of the attack.
"Shit," Noah muttered under his breath, his hands stinging from the blow.
'This guy's insane!'
He could feel the ice spear cracking under the force, threatening to shatter. But he wasn't about to let that happen.
Reacting quickly, Noah funneled mana into his weapon, reinforcing the ice and creating a second layer that spread over the shaft, darkening it into a deep, almost black-blue hue.
Even his hands were covered in the thick frost, serving both to protect them and to enhance his grip on the spear.
The chill seeped into his bones, but he welcomed it. Anything was better than having his fingers broken under Xander's assault.
"What the hell are you trying to do?"
Noah growled, glaring at Xander, who stood across from him with that same eerie glow in his eyes.
His sword, steady as ever, didn't so much as tremble. Xander was serious. His blows weren't the kind that you walked away from unscathed.
Xander didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he smiled—a calm, almost innocent smile, like he hadn't just tried to take Noah's head off.
"Come on, spar with meeee..."
Noah shot him a flat look, turning to leave as he mumbled to himself, "Why do I always attract the crazies?"
His body was still tense, his muscles sore from hours of practice, and the last thing he needed was to get into a fight with a battle junkie like Xander.
Because that's exactly what Xander was. Noah knew his type—he'd seen it on the screen a hundred times.
Xander lived for combat, for the thrill of a good fight. He could turn a friendly sparring match into a full-blown war zone without even realizing it, and that kind of recklessness was dangerous.
Noah could already picture himself in a freaking wheelchair if he indulged this guy's whims. Hell, it'd be over for him if he got injured now.
There were too many variables in play, too many people who would love to take advantage of his weakened state.
"No thanks," Noah said, cutting off any further protest from Xander.
"Find someone else to indulge your battle fetish. I'm not interested."
Xander, still squatting with the sword over his shoulders, gave him a forlorn look like a kid whose toy had just been taken away.
"Come on...just a quick one. You've got some skill with that ice spear, right? It could be fun..."
'Yeah, fun for you, maybe.'
Noah glanced over his shoulder at Xander, who still hadn't budged.
His posture was relaxed, but Noah could sense the tension behind his movements, the energy he was holding back.
Xander wanted to fight—'needed' to fight, even. It was written all over his face.
But Noah wasn't stupid enough to take that bait.
"Look, just go find someone in the other cubes," Noah said, pointing toward the door.
"There are plenty of people around here who'd love to spar with you.
I'm sure they'll line up just to say they fought the great Xander from S-Class. Knock yourself out."
Xander's shoulders slumped dramatically, and he let out a long, exaggerated sigh.
"You're no fun," he muttered, standing up and sheathing his sword. For a moment, Noah thought he might actually leave.
But instead, Xander lingered, watching Noah with an unreadable expression.