Professor Oliver gave a single nod, swinging his arm down as a signal. "Begin."
The student wasted no ti. With a shout, he surged forward, sword flashing as it cut through the air towards Noah’s torso.
Noah sidestepped the attack easily, the blade missing him by inches.
The tal hissed past, the student spinning to strike again, moving faster than before, but Noah’s movents were effortless.
He leaned, pivoted, and slipped away with fluid grace, his boots barely making a sound against the arena floor.
While Arlo’s eyes could see truth, Noah’s eyes were no less impressive. They had the ability to see even the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings in great detail.
And so, each swing made by the student t empty air.
The student’s frustration grew with every failed swing and his aura flared brighter, his breath coming faster.
"Stop dodging and fight !" he snapped.
Noah smiled at the sight, ducking under a wide horizontal slash and spinning aside.
"If you can’t handle a little frustration," he said lightly, "then you’ve got no business fighting ."
The student snarled and lunged again, his sword coming down in a heavy arc ant to break through Noah’s guard.
Noah simply dropped into a low slide, the blade whistling harmlessly above him. He ca out of the motion in a smooth roll, landing back on his feet several paces away.
He didn’t even look winded.
Even the student couldn’t help but stagger back in shock. In that mont, a single thread of fear entered his heart.
’Have I overreached?’ he wondered. ’Have I tried getting into a place that I have no business being?’
He blinked at Noah’s movents. He hadn’t cast a single spell, and hadn’t even drawn a weapon.
’If the lowest ranked gold-tier students is this strong, how strong are the rest?’
A part of him was telling him to give up. But he hadn’t co too far to give up here.
’No!’ he told himself, fury entering his veins for even daring to contemplate giving up. ’I must win!’
The student charged once more, eyes burning with anger.
But Noah, instead of dodging, simply stepped back, letting the sword strike the ground with a ringing clang.
Noah glanced at the blade, then back at his opponent, his tone calm but filled with amusent. "You’re sloppy," he said.
The student’s knuckles whitened around the hilt. "What did you say?"
Noah straightened, clasping his hands behind his back, his grin wide and almost mocking.
"I said," he repeated slowly, "this isn’t fun anymore."
And so, he lifted his palm, preparing to end the match quickly.
The spell formation for the F-rank Fireball appeared above his palm, the first spell he’d learned when he first ca to Calot.
But when he tried to draw mana, it faltered. The energy flickered in his chest, then fizzled out entirely before it could form in his palm.
He froze, staring at his hand in disbelief. "What?"
The other student didn’t wait. With a shout, he lunged forward, sword flashing.
Noah leapt back, but the attack still grazed him. The blade sliced across his forearm, leaving a shallow cut that bled freely.
The student grinned viciously, his confidence surging. "What’s wrong, gold-tier? Lost your spark?"
Before Noah could even think to answer, the student roared, not letting up in his attacks.
He swung again and again, each strike growing wilder and wilder. "You gold-tiers look down on everyone! Acting like you’re better than us! I’ll make you pay for it! I’ll make all of you pay!"
Noah twisted aside, dodging a slash that would’ve hit his neck.
He was silent at first, letting the rage of the boy fill the arena. Then, as he ducked under another swing, his expression hardened.
"Looking down on you?" he muttered, his voice cold.
He caught the student’s wrist mid-swing and drove his fist into the boy’s chest.
The impact sent the student flying backwards, crashing hard onto the arena floor.
Noah straightened, blood dripping down his arm, his face calm and unreadable.
"Why," he said softly, "would I look down on ants?"
The student groaned, struggling to rise. Noah’s eyes glinted.
"You’re not even worth my attention," he continued. "If you want to be soone worth looking down on, then grow stronger first. Then maybe I’ll spare you a glance."
The student’s face twisted with rage. "You!" he scread, charging forward again, aura flaring red with fury.
Noah didn’t move until the very last mont. Then he raised his hand once more, mana swirling around his fingertips. This ti, it ignited.
"Fireball."
The spell exploded to life, slamming into the charging student and engulfing him in roaring fla. The heat washed across the arena, scorching the sand underfoot.
Professor Oliver was already moving. His hand flashed, and a surge of water doused the fire instantly, steam hissing through the air.
The student collapsed to the floor, unconscious but alive, his uniform charred at the edges.
"Enough!" Oliver’s voice bood through the arena. He turned towards Noah, his expression hard but not angry. "Match over. Noah Webb wins."
He knelt briefly beside the fallen student, checking his pulse, then motioned for the assistants. Two of them hurried forward, lifting the boy onto a stretcher.
"Take him to the infirmary," Oliver ordered.
As they left, the arena fell silent again. Noah stood motionless in the middle of the floor,staring at his palm.
He exhaled slowly, feeling the ache in his arm. The cut wasn’t deep, but what unsettled him wasn’t the pain, it was the heaviness inside him.
That single spell had drained more mana than it should have. Much more.
He blinked, steadying himself as a wave of dizziness passed through him.
’What’s happening?’ he thought, frowning.
He’d cast Fireball plenty of tis before. It was one of the simplest spells he knew.
It shouldn’t have taken even a fraction of his reserves, yet his limbs felt heavy, and his vision slightly blurred.
He clenched his injured arm, breathing steadily.
Sothing was wrong with his mana.
Very wrong.
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