The main arena of the academy was a hive of activity. Thousands of students and faculty filled the stands. Banners from various departnts—the Silver Swords of the Knights, the Golden Suns of Holy Magic, the Bronze Scales of Strategy—fluttered majestically. In the VIP balcony, nobles and high imperial officials were seated, including Princess Selene, who watched with a calm gaze.
At one of the arena gates, the "Anomaly Team" prepared. Gideon Stonehand nervously stroked his small golem, Roc. Celia chanted calming spells on herself. Finn Cogsworth checked one of his strange devices. Lian leaned against the wall with eyes closed, looking bored. And Nihil, their de facto leader, simply stood still, his crimson eyes hidden beneath his white hair.
"Our first opponent," Celia said, reading the information board. "The Silver Sword Team, led by Marcus val-Lorian. They’re all from the Knights Departnt. Their average rank is Upper Iron."
"Marcus val-Lorian," Nihil repeated silently. The first na on Selene’s list.
As their nas were called, they walked out into the sunlit arena. Cheers for their opponents, the Silver Sword Team, were thunderous. For the Anomaly Team, there were only curious whispers.
Marcus val-Lorian and his team were the perfect picture of knights. Uniform silver armor, swords gleaming with Blessings, and a perfectly coordinated formation.
"First match, Group C! Silver Sword Team versus Anomaly Team! Begin!"
The battle began at breakneck speed. Marcus and another knight charged forward imdiately, a classic spearhead formation. Two magic archers behind them unleashed a hail of enchanted arrows. A support mage in the center began chanting an empowernt spell. Their tactics were flawless, straight out of a textbook.
The Anomaly Team, on the other hand, seed chaotic.
"Roc, dig!" Gideon commanded. His small golem imdiately burrowed into the arena’s ground, vanishing from sight.
"Finn, now!" Celia shouted. Finn hurled a tal disk that landed in the center of the arena, emitting a high-pitched buzzing sound that disrupted the archers’ concentration.
"Wall of Thorns!" Celia yelled, growing a thick wall of thorny plants that forced Marcus and his companion to split up.
On the other side, Lian simply raised her hand to the sky, and small clouds began to gather over the arena, threatening with lightning flashes. She was preparing a large-scale spell, ignoring the skirmish below.
And Nihil? He stood motionless in the midst of the chaos. His eyes were closed.
[Activating: Void Sonar.]
In his mind, a three-dinsional map of the arena ford. He could "see" everyone’s position, the trajectory of every arrow, even the flow of mana gathering around the enemy’s support mage.
He began issuing commands, his voice calm yet clear to his teammates through the small communication crystals Finn had prepared. "Finn, change the frequency. Target their mage. Celia, shift your wall three ters to the left."
Marcus, who had breached the wall of thorns, now faced Nihil directly. "Just you and , anomaly!"
The mont he was about to attack, Nihil made his first move. He glanced slightly toward the two archers behind.
[Using Void Grasp. Target: Two Bowstrings.]
[Capacity: 40/40 -> 38/40]
Across the arena, two taut bowstrings vanished instantly. With a loud TWANG, both bows exploded, sending wooden and tal shards flying. The two archers were thrown backward, their hands injured. Two opponents neutralized without a single visible attack.
The support mage, disrupted by Finn’s buzzing, finally managed to cast an [Acceleration] spell on Marcus.
Nihil stared at him. [Suppressing Gaze.]
The mage gasped, his head feeling as if pierced by ice needles. The [Acceleration] spell enveloping Marcus flickered then died.
"What the—" Marcus, who had been moving swiftly, suddenly felt his body beco heavy.
At that mont, the ground beneath another of his teammates erupted. Roc, Gideon’s golem, leaped out from below and tripped the knight, causing him to fall flat on his face.
In less than thirty seconds, Marcus val-Lorian was alone, surrounded.
Rage filled him. "BASTARD!" he roared, all his strategies in ruins. He unleashed all his strength and charged at Nihil, his sword blazing brightly.
Nihil did not retreat. He waited. As Marcus was just a few steps away, Nihil calmly used Atom Manipulation on the ground in front of his opponent.
[Application: Reducing the Coefficient of Friction of Stone Surface.]
The stone surface beneath Marcus’s rapidly running feet suddenly beca as slippery as oiled ice.
His eyes widened in horror as he lost his footing. With an undignified yelp, the noble House val-Lorian’s scion slipped and fell face-first onto the arena ground.
Silence. Then laughter erupted from the spectator stands.
Before Marcus could rise, Nihil stood over him. He did not point a weapon. He did not utter a word. He simply stood above, his shadow blocking Marcus from the sunlight.
The referee, stunned into disbelief, finally blew his whistle. "The winner... Anomaly Team!"
The team had won. Not with extraordinary power, but with strange strategies that dismantled their opponents piece by piece, ending with total humiliation.
In the VIP balcony, Princess Selene watched Marcus being helped to his feet, his face red with anger and sha. A cold, satisfied smile played on her lips.
Her weapon had worked perfectly.
While Nihil celebrated his quiet victory, Velka Nocturne walked through hell.
She followed her guide, "Twitch," a gaunt one-eyed man, deeper into The Undercroft. They left the bustling market and entered the "Rat’s Nest," a labyrinth of ancient sewer tunnels and shantytowns built atop one another. The air here reeked of desperation.
"The Duke paid well for this," Twitch grumbled, his eyes constantly on the alert. "But if we’re caught, his coins won’t raise from the dead. So stay quiet and follow my lead."
Velka nodded, her hand never far from her hidden dagger. She learned quickly. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t show fear. Walk as if you have a purpose.
Twitch led her to a smoky underground tavern. There, he spoke with several informants in rough Undercroft dialect. Velka could only catch a few words: "hunter," "arm," "ghost," "obsessed."
After trading so information (and coins from Duke Alaric), they secured a location. An abandoned gang hideout in the deepest, most forgotten part of the sewers. The perfect place for soone who wanted to disappear.
As they approached the location, Velka noticed crude traps—strings attached to bells, shards of glass scattered in dark corridors. Tarek Mornhall was extrely paranoid.
Twitch signaled her to stop. "From here, you’re on your own, noble girl," he whispered. "That man will shoot before I can utter a word. Show him this." He handed her an old coin with a strange engraving. "It’s a token from an ’old client.’ Maybe it’ll buy you a few seconds to speak before he kills you."
Twitch vanished, leaving Velka alone in front of a rusty iron door.
Heart pounding, she knocked.
"Go away or die," a raspy, threatening voice ca from within.
Velka slid the coin through the door’s crack. Silence. Then the sound of bolts being drawn. The door opened a sliver, revealing a crossbow barrel pointed straight at her face.
Behind the crossbow stood Tarek Mornhall. He looked terrible. His beard was unkempt, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his missing right arm made him appear like a wounded, cornered animal. The room behind him was filled with maps, notes, and crude sketches of Nihil’s face.
"A Nocturne," Tarek hissed, his eyes blazing with hatred. "You have the guts to co here. Your father sent you to finish the job?"
"I am not my father," Velka said, her voice steady though she was terrified. "I am here because we share a common enemy."
Tarek laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "We have nothing in common."
"Do we not?" Velka countered. "Your father betrayed you. He sent The Silencer to kill you. My brother took your arm. And the family secret is the obsession that now burns you alive. I’d say we have plenty in common."
Tarek hesitated. This girl was different.
Velka seized the mont. "I want to know everything you’ve learned about the curse within our family. Every detail. In return," she took a deep breath. "I offer you two things. First, protection. The person who sent here is powerful enough to hide you even from The Silencer. Second..."
She stared directly into Tarek’s hate-filled eyes. "...I will give you a path to true revenge. Not against my brother, who is also a victim. But against the man who sent you to hell from the very beginning."
"My own father. Valerius Nocturne."
Complete silence filled the underground room. Tarek slowly lowered his crossbow. In his madness-filled eyes, a glimr of cunning calculation began to shine.
The little girl before him had just offered a deal with the devil. And for Tarek, who had nothing left, the offer sounded like a prayer answered.
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