Chapter 1469: The Grand Magus’s Wrath
The students and teachers of Wilton were gathered in Raze’s room. Some sat perched on the edge of the bed, others squeezed onto the small couch pressed into the corner, and a few more leaned against the walls, arms crossed, content simply to be in the same space together.
The air was light, almost festive, a ripple of laughter and chatter weaving through the room. Spirits were high; after the battles they had witnessed and endured, it felt as though victory already rested in their hands. Many believed it was nearly time to leave, that their ordeal was almost over.
At the same time, the students of Wilton didn’t want to leave. The event was drawing to a close and they might never see Raze and the others again.
Panla, ever thoughtful, broke through the noise with a serious tone.
“What do you plan to do about tomorrow?” she asked. Her voice pulled the room quiet. “It’s the group event, the one where all ten of us have to fight against the other academies together. There’s a good chance the Central Academy will force you two to fight each other… to make up for what happened today.”
Liam leaned back, smirking, his usual cocky spark returning. “Oh? So you’re admitting it now, acknowledging the Central Academy’s dirty tricks. But I’m curious too. What do you want us to do? Go all out? Crush them the way we did today and let the rest deal with the fallout?”
“No,” Raze said flatly, his voice carrying enough weight to still even Liam’s grin. “Tomorrow will be a learning opportunity for all of you. We’ll take a passive role. Limit ourselves. Hold back on our magic, make it seem as though you’re fighting alongside any other students. This is your chance to test yourselves against stronger opponents, to grow. You should take it seriously.”
His tone shifted slightly, colder at the end. “But… if the situation becomes dangerous, or if they plan something underhanded, then we will step in.”
Piba, Chiba, Yolden, and Moze exchanged subtle glances. Relief flickered across their faces. For them, tomorrow represented something more than survival; it was a chance for revenge. For all the arrogance, all the disdain shown to Wilton by the Central Academy, this was their moment to stand tall.
Even Londo, though he appeared indifferent, could not entirely hide the edge of anticipation in his eyes.
The truth was, Raze and his group had already done more than enough. They had humiliated Central Academy’s pride. But tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow was Wilton’s day to strike back with their own hands.
Raze, however, had other reasons for his caution. His thoughts drifted to Kelly, to the strange pill she had shown him. A pill provided by Ibarin himself.
None of them have used it yet, he thought grimly. And tomorrow is the last day they’ll have the chance. Is it a refined version of what Alen once gave me? Something stronger, something cleaner with fewer side effects? Or is it worse, a more dangerous gamble disguised as a gift?
He knew too well the truth behind such pills. They forced breakthroughs unnaturally, shoving the body into a state it wasn’t ready for. Whether there were limits for students, or whether these ones carried new risks, Raze could not say. What he could say was that tomorrow’s battle might bring out opponents more dangerous than any they had yet faced.
While the Wilton group discussed their hopes and fears, another scene unfolded in the principal’s office.
Ibarin loomed over Wilton, his towering figure casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the entire room. Flames spiraled across his palm, twisting upward and casting a hellish glow across his furious face. The heat was suffocating.
“I understand you might have suspicions,” Wilton pleaded desperately, his voice trembling, his body pressed against the back of his chair. “You may even think I have intentions against you, but I swear, I do not. I only want what’s best for the academy!”
He could still speak, but he realized quickly it was not because of mercy. It was because Ibarin allowed it, restraining his magic just enough not to silence him. A cruel courtesy.
“Did I give you permission to speak?” Ibarin roared. His voice cracked with unstable power. “Do you believe that because we both hold the title of principal, we are equals? Fool! You and I are nothing alike. I am the Grand Magus!”
The flames coiled outward, curling around Wilton’s arms. They seared flesh, eating into his skin, blackening it, leaving it blistered and charred. His body jerked against the bindings of magic, but no sound escaped his lips. The silence spell wrapped the room in suffocating quiet.
His groans of agony were trapped within his throat, swallowed by the spell. Only the smell of burning flesh betrayed his suffering.
Ibarin’s eyes narrowed. “If you truly know nothing, then explain. Where did those students come from? The white-haired boy. The girl with the God Eyes. The magic swordsman. Do you take me for a fool? Do you think you can deceive me with your pathetic excuses? Tell me the truth, or, “
Flames surged again, wrapping around Ibarin’s arm, swirling hotter, brighter, hungrier.
“I don’t know!” Wilton shouted, panic in his eyes, tears streaming down his face. “They came on Alen’s recommendation, that’s all I know! I don’t know who they are, I swear it!”
The fire flared once more. This time it wrapped around Wilton’s head, devouring the air, swallowing his face. For a single moment, he existed within the inferno.
Then, nothing.
The flames vanished. And where his head had been, nothing remained but ash, scattering gently to the floor.
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Chapter 1470: A Midnight Warning
Everyone had gone to their individual dorm rooms to rest for the night. The academy had finally grown quiet, though silence here never truly meant peace. For most of the Pagna warriors, sleep wasn’t a necessity in the way it was for ordinary humans; it was more of a luxury, a momentary comfort, something they indulged in to relax rather than survive.
Raze, however, remained wide awake.
He sat at his desk, surrounded by books, scrolls, and crystals that pulsed faintly with residual mana. His white hair caught the dim glow of a lamp as his eyes scanned the notes laid out before him. He wasn’t tired , not even close. His mind was too sharp, too restless.
Time magic. That was what he had been studying.
The affinity was strange, slippery, almost impossible to grasp, and yet the possibilities it contained were endless. Raze traced runes in the air with his fingers, only for the symbols to flicker and dissolve. He repeated the attempt again and again, cold determination etched on his face.
Beside that, there were formations. Nothing groundbreaking tonight, but he wanted to refine his earlier work, adjusting the runes to be more compatible with his crystal array. Each subtle alteration could mean the difference between stability and collapse when demonstrated before others. Planning was everything, and Raze planned further ahead than anyone dared imagine.
Then, in the stillness of the night, he felt it.
The air shifted. The mana around him changed, bending unnaturally, filling the corridors like an unseen fog.
Raze froze.
This wasn’t just a ripple of power , it was a flood. Raw, overwhelming, so dense that even students asleep in their beds might have stirred with unease. Only one person could emit such a terrifying presence.
The Grand Magus.
’Ibarin,’ Raze thought instantly, his eyes narrowing. ’But why would he come here in the dead of night?’
The thought made his pulse quicken. This wasn’t a casual visit. An unannounced appearance at the dormitories, cloaked in such dangerous power, could only mean trouble.
Raze’s mind raced. He replayed what he knew of Ibarin: the polite facade, the calm mask, and beneath it all the violent instability he had glimpsed before. His intuition whispered the truth , the man was acting erratically, dangerously, and tonight might be the night he lost all restraint.
’He won’t dare touch the students. That would draw too much suspicion. Which means… he’ll go after something else. Someone else.’
The realization clicked together in Raze’s mind like puzzle pieces locking into place.
’He’ll want to know where we came from. And if he’s been asking questions… then he must have found out about Alen.’
The guests and the competitors were kept in separate sections of the academy housing. The wave of mana had been strongest when it first appeared, but already Raze could feel it shifting, moving. It was growing fainter in his direction, which meant Ibarin had turned elsewhere , most likely toward the guest quarters.
His suspicion solidified into certainty.
’He’s going to Alen.’
Raze stood abruptly, pushing his chair back. He weighed his choices. If he confronted Ibarin here and now, in the heart of the dormitories, the battle would be catastrophic. Dozens, maybe hundreds, would die in the crossfire.
But doing nothing carried its own cost.
Alen.
The Grand Magus might hesitate against a fellow high-ranking official, someone with a position in the military, but… Raze almost scoffed at the thought. Who was he kidding? Men like Ibarin didn’t hesitate. They silenced threats before they spread.
The logical choice was to stay out of it, to let events unfold and protect his own mission. But logic didn’t erase obligation. Alen had already risked much to help him and his companions. He had vouched for them, sheltered them, even stood against the academy’s system for them. That kind of loyalty demanded repayment.
Raze clenched his fists. “I can’t sit here and do nothing.”
He slipped silently from his room, his cloak fluttering around his ankles.
Meanwhile, Alen slept peacefully, unaware of the storm gathering around him. Unlike the Pagna warriors, he required rest, and after everything that had transpired, exhaustion had finally claimed him. His breathing was steady, his dreams distant.
In the haze of sleep, thoughts lingered. He remembered Raze’s solemn determination, the way the boy carried burdens far too heavy for his shoulders. He remembered their agreement , the deal they had struck.
’He hasn’t acted against Ibarin yet,’ Alen mused in his drifting consciousness. ’Maybe… maybe he’s holding back because of me. Because of the promise we made. I wonder how long that will last.’
A violent gust of wind shattered the calm.
The windows rattled as if a storm had blown in, then burst open with a deafening crack. The sudden rush of air whipped through the room, cold and sharp, tearing at papers and tugging at curtains.
Alen bolted upright. His training instincts roared to life. Impossible… aren’t the guest rooms fortified with protection magic? For the barriers to fail so abruptly meant only one thing: someone had broken through them deliberately.
For a terrifying second, he braced for the sight of Ibarin’s wrath.
Instead, a familiar figure slipped through the swirling wind.
White hair gleamed faintly in the moonlight. Cold eyes scanned the room. It was the student , Raze.
Alen’s body tensed on instinct, but just as quickly it relaxed. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Strange. He wasn’t sure he trusted Raze completely yet. And yet, his body responded as if he did. There was no sense of threat in the boy’s presence, only an uneasy calm.
“I think there could have been other ways for us to talk,” Alen said dryly, forcing his voice steady. “You didn’t have to make an entrance like that. But… I suppose you didn’t want anyone to see us.”
Raze didn’t waste words. His gaze was sharp, his voice low.
“I’ve been searching for you for a while now,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”
Alen frowned. “Why? What’s wrong? Why do you look so panicked?”
Raze stepped further inside, the cloak of darkness trailing after him. He had used fragments of dark magic to peer through small holes in each room as he flew past the dormitory windows, searching for Alen’s location. It was a risky method, but necessary , Ibarin was already moving, and any wasted moment could cost a life.
“The Grand Magus,” Raze explained flatly. “He’s coming. He’ll be here any second. And there’s a very good chance… he plans to take your life.”
The words hung heavy in the air, slicing through the room like a blade.
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Chapter 1471: The Test of Doubt
The words struck like a thunderclap in Alen’s mind.
Raze’s warning , that the Grand Magus himself was coming for his life , was so sudden, so unbelievable, that for a moment Alen thought he had misheard. The idea was absurd. Why now, in the middle of the night? Why would someone of Ibarin’s rank and stature personally come to kill him?
His brow furrowed as he tried to process it. If this were any other moment, if the warning had been delivered under calmer circumstances, Alen would have brushed it aside as manipulation. It could have been nothing more than another attempt from Raze to convince him that the Grand Magus were all corrupt, all dangerous. After all, so far, Alen had only glimpsed pieces of proof of the Council’s darker deeds , enough to plant suspicion, but not enough to condemn them entirely.
Yet the words had been the very first thing out of Raze’s mouth. There had been no build-up, no persuasion, just an urgent statement of danger. That sincerity , that sharp urgency , made it far harder to dismiss.
Alen swallowed hard. “If what you’re saying is true,” he replied carefully, “then wouldn’t I see the Grand Magus’s actions with my own eyes? If he were to burst through that door, right now, and target me, then that alone would be all the confirmation I would need.”
Raze’s eyes narrowed. He could tell Alen’s mind was still trying to rationalize, still reaching for a way to dismiss the threat.
“Don’t be a fool,” Raze said flatly, his voice cutting through the tension. “You think too highly of them. The Grand Magus are not as kindhearted as you imagine. I wouldn’t have come here, risked exposing myself and ruining everything I’ve been planning, just to spook you. He is on his way. He will kill you, Alen , not out of necessity, but out of frustration. He wants answers. He wants to know why you recommended us to the academy. And when he doesn’t get the answers he likes, he’ll silence you.”
Raze’s words pressed down with weight, and then he leaned in closer. His next words came lower, more personal, with an edge of memory behind them.
“And it won’t stop at you. The Grand Magus never stop at just one person. Think about your sister. And think about our deal. I need someone who can witness what I’m going through. I need someone to confirm it all when the time comes.”
For the first time, Alen’s confident front wavered. Raze saw it , the flicker in his eyes, the subtle tightening of his jaw. His sister. The one thing that tethered Alen firmly to this world, the one vulnerability he could not dismiss.
Raze remembered Jake Dove , his closest friend, the one who had borne witness to so much before losing everything. He would not let Alen suffer the same fate, not if he could help it.
“If you want proof,” Raze said, lowering his tone, “then there’s a way to get it. But you need to trust me now.”
Elsewhere in the dormitory, Ibarin was moving with calculated precision.
The Grand Magus did not care for the lives of those around him. He thought himself above them , above the teachers, above the staff, above the rules. In his twisted mind, the fact that someone of his level even deigned to use magic in their presence should have been considered an honor.
And yet, even arrogance had its limits. He could not simply slaughter indiscriminately. Too many corpses, too many questions, would leave a trail. Trails invited investigation. And Ibarin was careful enough not to give his enemies something tangible to chase.
So, instead, he worked methodically. Using enchanted tools and a layered array of spells, he hunted for his target. He had confirmed the room. He had traced the wards and dispelled the protections woven into the door.
Now, as he entered the hallway, the Grand Magus whispered a series of incantations. Sound dulled instantly. A silence spell settled over the corridor like a blanket, ensuring that no matter what happened next, not a single scream or clash of power would leak out to curious ears.
With his hand alight in fire, he pressed his palm to the doorframe. Flames hissed, searing a deep burn along the wood until the lock weakened. With a flick of his wind magic, the door swung wide open , and just as quickly was halted, caught in a controlled current of air before it could slam against the wall. Even in his fury, Ibarin was precise.
He stepped into the room, confident, fire magic swirling hungrily around his hand. His steps carried him straight toward the bed. His intention was clear. His victim would not even have time to scream.
But when he reached the bedside, he froze.
The sheets were empty. The bed unoccupied.
“There’s no one here?” Ibarin muttered, confusion flashing across his face. “Impossible. This is the right room. Did he leave early? Did he somehow know I was coming?”
His eyes darted around the room, searching. His mind scrambled for explanations. Even if he sensed my mana… who would ever suspect the Grand Magus would come for them personally?
In the end, frustration gnawed at him. He could spend the night tearing the dorm apart, but what would that gain him? Too much noise. Too much risk. It would be easier to wait , to confront Alen later, in a setting where suspicion would not hang so heavily.
With a final scowl, Ibarin withdrew. He closed the door behind him with careful precision, using wind magic again to mimic a natural break, leaving it just damaged enough to be explained away.
And then, of course, fate forced him into an encounter.
A staff member rounded the corner of the hallway, their uniform marking them as dormitory maintenance. They froze upon seeing the imposing figure.
“Oh! Grand Magus Ibarin!” the man exclaimed, bowing quickly. “I never expected to see you here. Is there anything I can help you with? Were you looking for a guest?”
Ibarin straightened, his mask of civility snapping back into place. “No. I was simply taking a stroll, checking the grounds. If anyone was still awake, I thought I might ask whether their accommodations were satisfactory.”
The excuse came smoothly, as though rehearsed.
The staffer bowed again, still visibly nervous. Ibarin moved to leave, but as he passed he gave a parting command. “By the way, the door down the hall seems to be damaged. Get it repaired as soon as possible.”
With that, he walked away, his back straight, his presence lingering like the hiss of lightning in the air.
Only after the Grand Magus was gone did the staff member straighten fully. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked after the man.
“It looks like he was right…” Alen’s voice came quietly, the staff member’s form flickering as he dropped the disguise. “…The Grand Magus really was trying to kill me.”
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Chapter 1472: Whispers of the Missing
Although Alen’s body language made it clear he was ready to leave the room, his steps quick and nervous because he had no intention of losing his life in a pointless stand-off, there was still something about the entire situation that gnawed at Raze.
Alen was right about one thing. This was the perfect opportunity to reveal what the Grand Magus truly was beneath the polished image. To show someone first-hand what kind of man Ibarin had become. And Raze had one tool that might allow them to do just that.
His hand brushed against his robes, feeling the smooth weight of the mask he had taken from Alter. The special artifact was designed for disguise, and with it he could cloak Alen’s identity, allowing him to pass as a simple staff member. It was a risk, of course , there was always a chance that Ibarin might lash out even against his own people if he believed they had seen too much , but the likelihood was slim. As long as Alen kept to the background, unseen and unnoticed, he would be safe.
That was the plan they had agreed upon. And because of it, Alen had been able to witness the Grand Magus’s actions with his own eyes. That alone had shifted something in him.
Later, the two slipped out of the dormitories, moving cautiously until they were far from the main halls. They met beneath the cover of towering trees at the edge of the venue, where the academy grounds tapered off into shadow. The air was cool, the leaves rustling faintly overhead, carrying with them the lingering tension of the night before.
“Do you need me to explain what just happened?” Raze asked, his voice steady but probing, as though testing Alen’s resolve.
Alen shook his head. “No. I saw enough with my own eyes. If he truly wanted to just talk to me, then he would have knocked on the door, or waited until morning to call for me. But instead…” His tone hardened. “He used magic to break in. And I could sense the spell he cast even after he entered. You’re right. He had every intention of getting rid of me.”
His hands tightened at his sides. The words weighed heavier on him than he had expected.
“The Grand Magus…” he muttered, more to himself than to Raze. “It makes me wonder , how far does their corruption go? Is it only small instances, scattered here and there? Or is it deeper? Does it stretch through everything they touch?”
He thought back to the evidence he had uncovered against Enaxx , all the heinous acts and travesties that man had committed. And now, here was Ibarin. Two of the five Grand Magus exposed. A pattern was beginning to form, one he could not ignore no matter how much he wished he could.
Raze’s voice cut through his thoughts, calm but ironclad. “Don’t worry. I intend to reveal everything Ibarin has done. Thanks to your help, I will make sure the world sees him for what he truly is. And I assure you, Ibarin is not the only corrupt Grand Magus.”
The conviction in his voice was chilling, and Alen knew it was not a bluff. Raze meant every word.
Truthfully, Raze had already uncovered fragments of Gizin’s own wrongdoings , dealings tied to Pagna and to the Cerebus Guild. But those were matters outside this particular fight. One battle at a time.
“I want you to see what’s to come,” Raze continued, pulling the mask from his robes. The artifact shimmered faintly in the moonlight. “For now, keep this on. Take the face of one of the guests, and do not sit near me. If anyone sees the real you wandering around, it could be dangerous.”
Alen hesitated only for a moment before nodding. He was inclined to agree. His rational mind told him to be cautious, but another part of him , the part that had seen the fire in Ibarin’s eyes, that had felt the heat of his magic , wanted to stand beside Raze and witness whatever was coming next with his own eyes.
This, he decided, would be the first step.
By morning, the entire atmosphere of the venue had shifted. The previous night’s shadows lingered for those who had lived through them, but for the guests and spectators, talk was dominated by excitement and speculation about the final day of the student events.
Rumors swirled from table to table, whispered through corridors, buzzing across the stands. Some debated whether there would be another round of public voting, as had been done in earlier matches. If there was, many swore they would cast their lot with Wilton.
Others were desperate to learn more about the mysterious Wilton students who had risen to prominence in just a few short days. Raze, Safa, the swordsman , all of them had performed with unbelievable skill. Their displays of power had captured the imagination of every guest.
And yet, strangely, no one had any information about them. Not a whisper of their names or histories circulated through the guilds or the academies. Even those who had supposedly worked closely with Wilton had never seen these students before. It was as though they had appeared from nowhere, fully formed and impossibly talented.
That mystery only deepened their allure. And it made people wonder just what secrets Wilton Academy had been keeping hidden.
Eventually, the time arrived for the grand coliseum to fill once again. The final student event of the magical exchange was about to begin. This was the culmination of everything so far, the match that would decide how the world remembered this exchange.
Spectators poured in, their voices echoing off the towering walls. Teachers filed into their sections, and participants readied themselves in their designated areas. The anticipation in the air was palpable, each murmur carrying a weight of expectation.
But when the principals’ seating area filled, something immediately felt off.
“Where’s Wilton?” one of the principals asked, glancing around. “He’s never late to these events.”
The question drew nods of agreement. It was uncharacteristic. Wilton was always punctual, always present for the academy he had devoted his life to.
Ibarin, calm as ever, leaned forward slightly. “Wilton stated he had some important personal matters to attend to,” he explained smoothly. “So he will not be with us for the remainder of the exchange.”
The words settled over the group like a shroud.
There were only two days left. Two days until the entire exchange concluded. For Wilton to miss that , when his academy had been performing so well, when his students had never shone brighter , was unthinkable. He had no family left, no ties outside of the academy. The institution was his entire life.
The other principals knew this. They exchanged glances, uneasy. They did not voice their doubts, but a grim understanding twisted in the backs of their minds.
The silence that followed said more than words ever could.
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Chapter 1473: The Stage of Ten
The principals of each academy were stationed in their own quarters, far away from the crowds and noise of the coliseum. Their lodgings were nothing like those given to guests or even the teachers; they were luxury suites, arranged almost like a small compound on the edge of the campus. Here, anything they required would be brought to them at a single word. Meals, information, attendants, even security , all was provided without question.
They were meant to be treated as dignitaries, as leaders of their institutions. The separation was deliberate. It kept them from being pestered by the endless questions of curious guests, and more importantly, it ensured that if they did want to conduct private meetings, they could do so without interruption.
After all, the principals were figures of enormous importance in Alterian society. The elite, guild leaders, and wealthy patrons often sought to contact them. With the performances of the students on display during the exchange, these meetings could determine sponsorships, resources, and alliances that would shape an academy’s future for years to come.
In truth, however, because the Central Academy had dominated nearly every exchange in the past, these other principals rarely drew any attention. Very few had even bothered to request meetings with them. And so, when one of their own , Principal Wilton , failed to appear, his absence went largely unnoticed.
No one outside the circle of principals questioned it. Only they understood the significance. But if their suspicions were correct, then none of them dared voice it aloud. Speaking such a truth in public could bring ruin. Instead, they swallowed their unease and kept silent, forced to continue watching the events unfold as though nothing had happened.
The roar of the crowd filled the arena as the announcer’s magically amplified voice boomed across the coliseum.
“We welcome everyone to today’s grand event , the Group Stage Battles!”
The audience erupted in cheers. This was the spectacle many had been waiting for, a full-scale clash of academies, not just duels between individuals.
“The format,” the announcer continued, “is similar to the singles tournament. It will be a knockout event, but this time, all ten of the selected students from each academy will participate!”
Ten students per academy. Fifty combatants in total. The scale of it was unlike anything that had come before in this exchange.
“Because of the severity of this event, we will have ten teachers and staff members stationed around the battlefield. They will monitor closely and are authorized to intervene at any time if the fight grows too dangerous.”
The crowd murmured. Even with safeguards, the risk was immense.
“The rules remain the same as before. A student can be defeated if they are knocked out, if they surrender, or if one of the supervising teachers deems them unable to continue. Only when every member of a group has fallen will a winner be declared!”
Excitement rippled across the stands. This was not merely about strength , it was about teamwork, about strategy. Some remembered past exchanges where mages had combined their powers, weaving spells together to form devastating combinations. Others recalled academies protecting their healers or support units, structuring themselves like miniature armies.
It was never as simple as one group being stronger than the other. At least, that was how it had been for most academies. Central Academy was the exception. Their reputation was so overwhelming that people wondered if strategy even mattered when faced with such raw power.
The announcer’s voice rose again. “I am sure you are all wondering what will happen with the matchups, since there are only five academies present this year. How will the brackets be decided?”
The crowd hushed, waiting eagerly for the reveal.
“Because of Wilton Academy’s extraordinary performance , winning every single event so far , we have decided to grant them a reward. Wilton Academy will advance directly to the finals!”
The announcement shocked even the students of Wilton. None of them had been told in advance. Some had expected the Central Academy to force them into as many battles as possible, exhausting their strength, exposing their techniques, or even injuring them before the decisive match. But this… this was something different.
For the first time, the audience felt that an academy’s success had been properly acknowledged. This reward was deserved.
“It’s a shame,” one guest muttered to his companion. “I wanted to see what Wilton’s hidden strength really looks like. But I suppose the Central Academy must be feeling the pressure. They’ve become the underdogs in this exchange. Now they’ll have to prove themselves.”
The murmurs spread. Some were disappointed, others thrilled. But all of them knew that the anticipation for the finals had just grown tenfold.
The first of the group battles began.
The Central Academy stepped onto the field, their ten selected students taking their positions with confidence. Kelly was among them, standing tall at the backline. Their opponents looked visibly nervous, exchanging uncertain glances.
The clash began.
It was over in moments.
Kayzel moved first, and with blinding super speed he cut through the battlefield. Three enemy mages were down before they had even finished raising their staves. The crowd gasped at the sheer speed of it.
Nannan had vanished into invisibility, reappearing behind an unsuspecting student and striking them down with ruthless efficiency.
George’s gravitational magic surged outward, pinning the opposing backline in place, their spells collapsing before they could even be released.
The rest of Central clashed spell for spell, but the truth was clear: the match was already lost. Seconds after it began, it was over.
This time, there was no holding back. Unlike the earlier rounds, Central Academy was no longer hiding their strength. They displayed it openly, brutally, as though to send a message: they were too strong, individually and collectively, for any other academy to stand against.
The matches continued. As Central rested and healed, BIMM Academy entered the arena for their own bout.
Their strategy was unusual but effective. The entire group focused on protecting Lee Roy, forming a tight defensive circle around him. They did not waste energy striking at their enemies. Instead, they relied on Lee Roy’s unique tracking magic to whittle down their opponents. His attacks came from every angle, carefully calculated, until their enemies collapsed under the pressure.
It worked. BIMM claimed their victory and advanced.
The crowd expected the next match to be Central Academy versus BIMM. Many were curious to see the clash between Lee Roy’s strategy and Central’s overwhelming force.
But just as before, the announcement came.
BIMM had withdrawn.
Gasps of disappointment swept through the stands. Another academy bowing out. Another opportunity lost.
And so, the inevitable had arrived.
The fight that everyone had been waiting for. The revenge match that Central Academy craved.
Central Academy versus Wilton Academy.
The final confrontation between two powers that seemed destined to clash.
The air in the coliseum trembled with anticipation.
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