Nascent Soul Rebirth: Starting as a Wizard

Nelson's physique was already outstanding among the reserves; his height of nearly 1.8 meters made him look like a mobile little tower.

He was more than half a head taller than Solo, who had just reached 1.7 meters.

He was a little over a year older and was in the period of rapid physical development in his youth, with broad shoulders and a thick chest.

The bulging muscles on his arms are clearly defined, a result of long-term strength training, and his weight appears to be at least ten kilograms heavier than Solo's.

When he stepped into the limestone circle with anger and arrogance, the almost instinctive sense of oppression brought about by the difference in size was overwhelming.

To many onlookers, this was almost a foregone conclusion.

Solo stood opposite him, his figure appearing even thinner and more frail.

Although after a month of basic training and simulated internal energy conditioning, his original weakness has faded considerably, but his skeletal structure has not yet fully developed.

The muscle coverage was only in its initial stages, compared to Nielt's well-built physique honed over many years.

It's more like a contrast between a sapling that hasn't yet weathered the storms and an oak tree that has grown for years.

This visually striking disparity in power is precisely the basis for Nailter's confidence and the pre-judgment of the outcome by others.

Solo raised his head, his eyes calm and unwavering, as if he hadn't noticed the insult in the other person's words.

He even tilted his head slightly, revealing a perfectly timed, slightly confused expression, and confirmed in a calm tone:

"Is this... Brother Ned?"

He deliberately called out the wrong name, casually tossing back a trivial mistake.

"It's Nelson! You forgetful mudblood!"

The red-haired youth was indeed angered by this small act of disrespect.

His face turned even redder than his hair. He stopped talking and let out a low growl.

"Stop talking nonsense and get in the industry!"

The two stood still inside the lime circle.

As Nielt stepped into the limestone circle with undisguised hostility, the surrounding training crowd quickly gathered around him as if drawn by a magnet.

A loose circle of whispers formed, and a buzzing of secret conversations filled the air.

Their gazes darted back and forth between the burly red-haired youth and the relatively thin black-haired boy, the air thick with the excitement of watching a good show.

"The market is open! The market is open!" A young man with freckles on his face, who looked quite clever, lowered his voice, but it was enough for several people around him to hear him clearly.

"Bet Nelson how many rounds it will take to take down that kid? I bet within five moves, that kid will be pinned to the sand and eating mud!"

Otherwise, I'll carry the stone weights and run a lap around the training ground!

"Five moves? You overestimate that Mudblood." Another burly young man, who was close to Nelter, sneered, arms crossed.

"I bet Nelson would fly out with one tackle, look at that build."

"It looks like it could be blown over by a gust of wind. If I lose, I'll lift the barbell a hundred times."

A slightly older, more composed reserve officer next to him shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of practical consideration:

"Don't be too absolute. I've been observing Solo for a few days. He walks steadily and has good stamina. He might be able to hold out for a while."

I bet he can last for half an hour... well, at least dodge the first attack. If I lose, I'll let my opponent have three moves next time I wrestle.

"Hide? Where can you hide?" The freckled youth said dismissively.

"The circle is only so big. With Nielt's build, he's like a wall pressing down on you. How can you dodge?"

I'm raising the stakes: I'll run three laps around the training ground with the stone weight on my back! I bet Nielt will finish this in three moves!

"I'll bet you! I bet Nelson will throw that kid to the ground three times, and he'll be begging for mercy!" another voice chimed in.

"Hey, anyone want to bet on something unexpected? Like... can that kid pull off a comeback?"

A young man leaning against the weapons rack, looking somewhat lazy, said something half-jokingly, which immediately drew boos and laughter.

"Counterattack? With his skinny arms and legs? Karl, were you driven mad by that shield yesterday?"

"Exactly, Nelson has the strength to single-handedly flip a calf! Solo? I bet he'd be exhausted after swinging his sword three thousand times."

Amid the discussions, almost no one was optimistic about Solo.

The betting odds were overwhelmingly on a quick victory for Nielt, the only difference being whether the outcome would be an instant crushing defeat or a more dramatic one.

Several young men familiar with Nielt started shouting even louder:

"Nelter! Show him no mercy, let him see what the power of the Fran family is all about!"

"Yes! Throw him hard, let's see if he dares to try anything funny again!"

"One move! I'll use just one move!"

Even those bystanders who weren't specifically targeting Solo mostly thought it was a contest lacking suspense.

They were more interested in how Nielt would win in a flamboyant way.

And what kind of pathetic state that taciturn illegitimate son will reveal.

Solo's calm "Brother Ned?" elicited a burst of laughter.

This further solidified the impression in the eyes of others that he was trying to use a little cleverness to cover up his fear and weakness.

On the other side of the training ground, the young ladies also noticed the commotion.

The red-haired lady reined in her horse and looked over curiously: "What's going on over there? Are they going to fight?"

"It looks like Nelson and...that dark-haired kid?" Another lady squinted. "Interesting, let's go check it out."

Several young ladies rode their horses slowly closer, stopping a short distance outside the circle to observe from their elevated position.

"Begin!" shouted one of the guards acting as the temporary referee.

Nielt moved.

Like an enraged wild boar, it has no skill whatsoever and relies purely on the impact of its weight.

In Solo's analytical eye, the opponent's movements were broken down into slow-motion frames.

Leaning too far forward, insufficient force from the left foot, and opening the arms too early, exposing gaps under the armpits...

Right now.

Solo slid half a step forward, not retreating, but moving forward.

Just before contact, turn your body to the side, place your left hand on the back of the opponent's right elbow, and reach your right hand towards the opponent's left sleeve.

The training suit doesn't have real sleeves, but the grip area is sufficient.

Power has arrived.

It was heavy, carrying anger and contempt.

Solo didn't confront the situation head-on; instead, he guided it.

With his left hand pulling down and his right hand lifting up, he rotated his body, combining all his power with his own momentum.

The center of gravity has shifted.

Nielt's upper body lurched forward, but his feet couldn't keep up.

"what?"

The crowd gasped in surprise.

The anticipated violent collision did not occur.

Nielt's powerful dive missed at the last moment!

No, it wasn't a missed opportunity—it was that kid Solo, for some reason, just turned slightly to the side and reached out to pull me.

Nielt staggered as if he were drunk, and almost fell over!

"What happened?"

"Nelson slipped?"

"Just a coincidence, right?"

But what happened next left all onlookers wide-eyed.

Nielt steadied himself and roared as he charged again.

This time, the two became entangled and rolled to the ground.

Logically, Nielt, with his significant weight advantage, should have been able to easily suppress Solo.

but--

The black-haired boy was like a slippery eel on the ground!