A massive pillar of fla towered in the arena, its heat palpable even to the spectators. The students and players alike stared, frozen in awe and unease.
It was the kind of fire that made even the strongest Trionians realize they wouldn't walk away unscathed if caught in its grasp.
And within that blazing inferno was Arlon, swinging his sword with precision and focus.
The spectators quickly pieced together what was happening. They recognized the wind magic around his blade and the source of the fire.
"Wait... wasn't he supposed to be a warrior?" one student asked, his confusion evident.
"No warrior could create a fire pillar like that," another responded, her eyes glued to the flas.
Their murmurs grew louder, but the question on everyone's mind was the sa: What exactly is Arlon?
As the flas slowly dissipated, another realization struck the crowd. Orlen was nowhere to be seen.
"The professor..." one student whispered, their voice trembling.
"Is he okay?"
But while the students began imagining worst-case scenarios, Arlon didn't celebrate. His stance was steady, his expression focused. It was clear he didn't believe the fight was over.
Within the clearing flas, Orlen's figure erged.
Arlon's eyes imdiately locked onto Orlen's right leg—it wasn't a normal Elf's leg. The limb was green and scaly, resembling sothing reptilian.
So that's what the weakness referred to, Arlon thought. Though he didn't fully understand the significance, it was clear this leg was special.
However, it had just stopped Aetherion's Edge mid-swing without taking any damage.
Unable to press further, Arlon sheathed his sword and bowed slightly. "It's my loss," he declared.
At his words, Orlen's right leg transford back into a normal Elf's leg, and the remaining traces of the flas vanished.
The students sward the arena, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief. Arlon's surrender shocked them.
"But why? You had him cornered!"
"That last move could've won you the match!"
The crowd bombarded Arlon with questions, their excitent overriding any sense of decorum.
anwhile, Orlen stood calmly in front of Arlon, shaking his hand.
"Professor, how did you shield yourself from that attack?" one student blurted out.
"No, before that—what was that attack?" another chid in.
Orlen chuckled, waving them off. "Now, now. Do you think I'm that easy to beat? I have my trump cards, but if I explained them, they wouldn't be trump cards anymore."
"Then what was the point of the match?" a clever student asked. "If we can't learn from it, wasn't it all in vain?"
"Hmm, good question," Orlen said, stroking his chin theatrically. "Let's say the lesson here is... sotis, not everything has a clear lesson!"
"Professor, we're going to report you to the Head Teacher," the students said in unison.
"Hey, hey, okay! I'll give you a proper lesson," Orlen said, raising his hands in surrender. He slid a ring off his finger and held it up for everyone to see.
"This ring is a magic device that absorbs spells and stores them for later use. I had stored a shield before the match—it was simply released when needed."
Arlon's sharp eyes narrowed slightly. That's not the whole truth, he thought, but he didn't call Orlen out.
Thanks to the Fire Pillar, none other than Arlon saw the green leg of the Elf. It seed more like a strength than a weakness to Arlon.
But since the Eyes of K*T** said it was a weakness, Arlon had a few guesses.
One of them was that he couldn't show his leg around and it had sothing to do with being an Elf.
"But professor," Sia interjected, "wasn't that combustion magic? A small shield shouldn't have been able to block sothing so strong."
This ti Zack was surprised. He had already felt that the red-haired girl was similar to him. But Sia wasn't just a strong fighter—she was also well-versed in magical theory.
Again, this was normal since this was the best academy in Trion. No matter how strong one was, if they didn't support it with intelligence, they couldn't get in.
Even if they sohow got in, they couldn't graduate.
It was a testant to the academy's standards; every student here had to balance strength with intelligence.
So, Sia's intelligence was also high.
"Small shield?" Orlen repeated with mock offense. "Don't underestimate . That shield wasn't created on the spot—I prepared it long before the match began. And that's another lesson for you: don't rely on improvisation. Preparation is key."
He smirked, pausing for dramatic effect. "Oh, and you're wrong. That wasn't combustion magic. Arlon rged two spells to enhance each other. That's your new assignnt—research how it was done."
Sia's jaw dropped. "Wait, what?!"
"Yes, yes. A written report, please. Due by Friday," Orlen added with a teasing grin.
Sia groaned. "I should've kept my mouth shut."
"And for questioning ," Orlen continued, "you'll also write an essay on spell theory for your language class."
"Professor, please!" Sia protested. "I'll never do it again, I swear!"
While Sia's exaggerated complaints filled the air, a small group of students approached Arlon.
"That was amazing!"
"You almost beat the professor!"
"But why did you surrender? You could've won if you tried again!"
The questions overwheld Arlon, and he struggled to respond. He had tried to present himself as a stoic figure, hoping to focus on learning without distractions. But instead, his actions had earned him admiration—and even so unwanted attention.
So of the girls, regardless of their race, were already hovering closer, their intentions clear.
Before things got out of hand, Orlen intervened.
"It was a good match, Arlon," he said, drawing the crowd's attention back to him.
"Thank you," Arlon replied. "I learned a lot from it."
"And you adapted well," Orlen said. "So well, in fact, that I don't have an assignnt for you."
The students erupted in protest.
"That's not fair!" Continue your journey at My Virtual Library Empire
"He doesn't even have to do the exam?!"
Orlen raised a hand to silence them. "Let explain. Whenever I noticed a weakness in his technique during the match, I ntally noted it to address it later. But by the end, he'd already corrected all of them. That's why his exam is complete."
The protests didn't die down until Orlen made another offer.
"How about this? I'll award my ring to the person with the highest grade on their exam. Of course, Arlon won't be eligible.
That is unless you still want him to take the exam. In that case, I will still give him a mission, but let tell you that he will probably get the highest score," Orlen offered.
That settled the matter, and the students begrudgingly accepted.
Reviews
All reviews (0)