'Wow, those two are a disaster,' Luna mused, her voice tinged with what could only be described as amused pity.
I didn't need her comntary to confirm what was painfully obvious. Watching Rachel and Cecilia attempt teamwork was like watching two highly intelligent missiles collide mid-air—loud, bright, and catastrophically inefficient.
Their battle had started with the vague promise of coordination. It took exactly thirty seconds for that promise to collapse in spectacular fashion. Rachel's precise, calculated spellwork clashed horrifically with Cecilia's instinct-driven, raw-firepower approach. Every ti one of them made a move, the other would unintentionally—sotis intentionally—counteract it. Their magic didn't harmonize so much as combust on contact.
I winced as Rachel's golden light spell—ant to provide a barrier—was overwheld by Cecilia's crimson flas, the collision resulting in a blinding explosion that sent both of them skidding backwards.
"That was your fault," Rachel snapped, brushing dust from her uniform.
Cecilia smirked, utterly unfazed. "Oh? I thought you were supposed to be the Saintess. Shouldn't you be able to adapt to re mortal incompetence?"
The resulting golden flare from Rachel's staff suggested that if they hadn't been in an official evaluation, she might have actually smited Cecilia on the spot.
The six-star beast they were ant to be fighting watched the exchange with what I could only describe as mild confusion, before shrugging and lunging at them again.
It was painful to watch.
"I don't think any duo will be worse than them," I muttered. It wasn't just an observation—it was common sense. Rachel and Cecilia did not mix. It didn't matter that both of them were spellcasting prodigies of the Mind aspect. Their approaches were fundantally opposed.
When Nero finally sighed and called the match—because neither girl was going to swallow their pride enough to actually work together—I almost felt bad.
Almost.
But the show wasn't over.
Lucifer and Jin stepped forward next.
I straightened, my full attention on the two.
Lucifer Windward—the strongest first-year. The one destined to be king.
And Jin Ashbluff—the prince of necromancers.
They stood side by side, eerily silent as the next six-star beast was released onto the battlefield.
It was a massive, reptilian monstrosity, its obsidian-scaled hide glistening under the artificial combat lights. A beast known as the Dreadscale Devourer. Six-star. Heavy armor. Resistant to most elental magic.
And Lucifer moved first.
There was no hesitation. No wasted motion.
Lucifer didn't hesitate. He never did.
The mont the Dreadscale Devourer was released, he moved—a blur of motion that defied expectation, a streak of silver cutting through the air. He covered the distance in an instant, his longsword flashing as it ca down in a single, devastating arc.
A normal strike from a swordsman? No.
This was Myth of the Northern Peak.
A Grade 6 art belonging to the Windwards, the most powerful martial family of the Northern Continent.
And Lucifer used it with terrifying ease.
First Movent—Winter's Ascent.
His body disappeared from view, reappearing mid-air in a higher position as if stepping on an invisible platform. But it wasn't flight—it was a precise mana technique, using force to launch himself into the air without resistance. A technique that let him strike from angles no normal swordsman could.
The Dreadscale barely had ti to react before his sword descended—not just with raw strength, but with the weight of an entire frozen mountain behind it. Ice surged along the blade, freezing the very air around him, reinforcing the strike's force.
The impact sent shockwaves through the arena, cracking the Dreadscale's reinforced hide.
Jin was already moving, exploiting the mont, his necromantic summons surging forth. But Lucifer wasn't done.
The Dreadscale recovered, its massive bulk shifting to counter with a devastating tail swing. It ca fast—too fast for anyone to dodge on foot. But Lucifer wasn't on foot.
Second Movent—Northern Gale.
A flicker. A blur.
Lucifer stepped mid-air again, twisting his body unnaturally, like the wind itself carried him. His sword followed, carving a crescent arc of frozen mana through the air, trailing ice and fire as it slamd into the beast's tail before it could fully connect.
A perfectly executed counter.
The tail was forced back. The beast recoiled, letting out a guttural snarl, its reptilian eyes flashing with fury. Lucifer landed lightly—too lightly for soone who had just parried a strike from a monster twice his size.
The entire battlefield shifted in response to his presence. The air felt colder, heavier.
Jin capitalized imdiately, his undead detonating around the beast's legs, forcing it to stagger.
And Lucifer smiled.
He was pushing back a six-star beast with pure technique.
Not magic. Not tricks. Just swordsmanship honed to the pinnacle of what humanity could achieve.
And even then… it wasn't enough.
The Dreadscale adapted.
It twisted, using its own stagger as montum, and its tail slamd into the ground with a force that shattered the terrain.
The battlefield exploded.
Lucifer barely managed to pivot mid-air, landing with a sharp skid, his sword gleaming with a thin layer of frost.
Jin, however, wasn't so lucky. The shockwave tore through his formation, sending him sprawling, his summoned warriors disintegrating under the sheer pressure.
Lucifer's grip on his sword tightened. He was ready to step forward, to continue the assault, to push himself even further.
But Nero's voice cut through the battlefield.
"Enough."
And just like that, it was over.
Lucifer exhaled, standing down, his eyes still locked on the beast as it snarled, restrained by the Academy's safety protocols.
I exhaled too, tension I hadn't even realized I'd been holding finally releasing.
Even knowing how terrifying Lucifer was… seeing him up close was sothing else entirely.
'Wow,' Luna muttered in my mind. 'That boy is truly ridiculous.'
I nodded, gripping my sword tighter.
Lucifer Windward was ridiculous.
And one day… I'd surpass him.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Ren cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders as the beast was released into the battlefield.
The Titanfang Ravager erged—a massive, armored predator with reinforced plating that could withstand high-impact spells, its body a fusion of organic muscle and mana-infused exoskeleton. A true six-star monster, towering over them, radiating raw pressure.
Ren barely looked at Ian. He didn't care.
Fighting alone was all he needed.
Void Fist—First Movent: Collapsing Step.
The world lurched.
In an instant, Ren vanished, not in a blur of speed, but in sothing more… unnatural. His very presence contracted in on itself, like space was folding him forward, pulling him toward his target. One second he was standing at the starting line—the next, he was inside the Titanfang Ravager's guard.
His fist struck out—and space buckled.
A shockwave didn't spread outward. Instead, the force collapsed inward, focusing all of its destructive impact into a single pinpoint impact on the Titanfang's armored plating.
The beast reeled back, roaring in pain.
Ian moved next, his expression composed but burning with a quiet, draconic intensity. He had no plans to sit back and let Ren handle everything alone.
Legend of Prominence—First Movent: Blazing Dawn.
His spear ignited, a controlled inferno spiraling along its length, the sheer heat warping the air around him. Ian didn't vanish like Ren—he surged forward like a cot, his body a streak of molten gold, his dragon blood roaring through his veins as he launched himself straight at the beast's exposed flank.
The Ravager retaliated—its tail lashed toward him, a massive spiked battering ram. But Ian's movent didn't stop.
He didn't need to dodge.
His spear thrust forward—and in that instant, the fire didn't just burn.
It devoured.
The flas surrounding his spear ripped apart the incoming force, converting the kinetic energy into raw mana and feeding it back into Ian's strike. The spear slamd ho, embedding itself between the Ravager's plated ribs, the shockwave blasting outward this ti, sending embers scattering across the battlefield.
Ren clicked his tongue.
Ian had gotten in his way.
Ren moved again.
Void Fist—Second Movent: Event Horizon.
Ti warped.
The Titanfang's attempt to counter froze—not completely, but slowed, its massive limbs struggling to complete their movents. The air around Ren shimred, distorted, as if light itself was bending under the sheer pull of gravity.
Then, he struck.
A straight punch. Clean. Precise. And infinitely heavier than it should have been.
The Titanfang buckled under the impact, its own mass turning against it as the gravity in that single mont tripled, then quadrupled, locking it in place for a fraction of a second. A fraction was all Ren needed.
But Ian was still moving.
Legend of Prominence—Second Movent: Infernal Ascent.
His spear whipped upward, fire and mana exploding outward, turning the battlefield into a storm of gold and red. The ground beneath them cracked, the sheer force sending shockwaves up the Ravager's massive fra.
But sothing was off.
Ren wasn't coordinating.
Ian's attack forced the Titanfang to stagger—but it also knocked it out of Ren's controlled gravity zone.
Ren scowled as the beast's tail lashed out, freed from the force that should have locked it down for the final blow.
Ian barely dodged in ti, his spear blocking part of the impact—but the sheer weight of the strike sent him skidding backward, boots digging deep trenches into the ground.
Ren cursed. Ian had disrupted his opening.
Ian frowned. Ren wasn't adapting to him at all.
They weren't a team.
The Titanfang recovered.
Then, it counterattacked.
A full-body slam, reinforced with raw mana, faster than anything they had seen before. And this ti, neither of them were in position to stop it.
Ren tried to move—tried to activate Collapsing Step again, but he was off-rhythm. Ian tried to redirect with Blazing Dawn, but the impact was already there.
The Titanfang crashed into them.
Both were sent flying.
Ian twisted mid-air, his spear slamming into the ground to stop his montum. Ren, however, was forced to absorb the impact raw, tumbling across the battlefield before skidding to a stop.
Silence.
Then—Nero sighed.
"Enough."
The fight was over.
Ren gritted his teeth, pushing himself up, his frustration clear. Ian rose to his feet slower, his gaze locked on the Titanfang, but his expression unreadable.
They had lost.
Not because they weren't strong enough.
But because they weren't a team.
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