There was a building hidden behind the veil of mist.

This place was adjacent to the demonic realm, so civilians rarely ventured here, fearing the abundance of monsters.

In truth, the dangerous beings had long since rotted away, their flesh decomposed and bones buried beneath the earth, but only a select few within the Empire and the staff working inside the building knew that.

At the Pathfinder headquarters, Arental sat in his office chair, immersed in paperwork.

Reviewing proposals and deciding whether or not to approve repairs—just routine tasks.

He had become so accustomed to it that it no longer took long to process.

However, today, his attention was elsewhere, slowing his work pace.

'If it weren’t for work, I would’ve gone to see it myself—what a shame.'

The Empire was abuzz with the Aizen Arena, yet this place remained eerily quiet.

Even the elders, who knew that winning meant receiving a huge budget from the Emperor, dismissed it as nonsense and remained silent.

Instead, everyone seemed careful with their words.

‘Well, it’s not surprising. No one here, where so many are from Frostheart, would have fond memories of the Aizen Arena.’

It was an annual ritual of bitter defeat and return.

Bringing it up would only evoke shame or sorrow.

‘This is frustrating. I want to hear the results already, but I don’t want to pressure my subordinates.’

Unfortunately, Noras, who shared Arental’s interest in the Aizen Arena, was away on a business trip.

“Hm, it’s uncomfortable without Noras. Have I always been this powerless?”

Arental considered, just once, closing his eyes and ordering an employee to fetch the results.

‘No, even if I send someone now, it’ll take half a day. This place is too remote. I’ll just wait for Noras. Thankfully, she’s returning today—shouldn’t be long now.’

He stamped documents while glancing at the wall clock.

After repeating this a few times, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps beyond the door.

Judging by the fast rhythm, someone was rushing.

Click clack—

“Permission to enter, Sir Arental.”

The door opened right after the knock.

Noras entered with a lifted smile, as if bringing good news.

Just as she opened her mouth, loud voices rang out from outside the window.

“Is that true?!”

It was the driver and staff shouting in front of the carriage Noras had taken.

“They won? Against Ever Blaze?”

“Yes, seriously! Ten wins and only one loss.”

The voices were so loud that it was only a matter of time before a crowd gathered.

Wouldn’t they set aside work and just chatter about the Aizen Arena for a while?

Arental smiled faintly and looked at Noras.

“A fresh sight indeed.”

“It’s the first time in history, after all.”

“Still, this place is so remote, getting news takes forever.”

“I’ll set up a separate communication network.”

“Hmm, are there any networks left unused?”

“They’re all connected to field operations, but I’m sure we can secure one.”

Noras chuckled sharply and gazed into the distance.

“They won.”

“Yes, they did.”

“Surely the other elders will gladly approve it too.”

“That’s true. They might hand over one of the lesser-used communication lines.”

Given the shocking upset they delivered, the elders’ interest must be at its peak.

“Principal Arkandric must be especially pleased.”

Arental chuckled, imagining him flaunting among the other principals.

Then Noras cautiously asked,

“Sir Arental, may I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Aren’t you nervous?”

Arental immediately understood what she meant.

Frostheart’s restoration and the overly drawn budget for field operations had put them in financial strain.

And the one responsible was Arental himself.

‘Ah, that’s right. If they didn’t win, I would’ve been unemployed. No, I wouldn’t just lose my position—it wouldn’t end there.’

It was a matter executed under an elder’s discretion, so execution was unlikely, but he might have to endure a few years in prison.

Still, Arental thought it was worth the risk.

“Not really. I had complete confidence in their victory from the start.”

“Pardon?”

“Three grand duke's children participated. And even Dorosian was there.”

That guaranteed at least four wins.

So they only needed two wins from the remaining seven contestants.

They only needed six wins total.

Besides those four, Arental had also seen promise in the others.

“The outstanding talents weren’t just those four. The rest also survived harsh trials. A few of them were bound to win.”

Then Noras grimaced and delivered shocking news.

“Sir Arental?”

“What is it?”

“Dorosian didn’t participate...”

Arental closed his eyes and clenched his lips.

Not there?

That was supposed to be a guaranteed win extending to both Wisdom and Valient.

“Hmm.”

Now he was getting a little nervous.

***

In the first round against Wisdom, Mircel had won with a clean performance.

From the VIP seats, Arkandric had ground his teeth at Viron, the principal of Wisdom.

'That guy. Mircel going up against someone using that kind of magic? That’s no coincidence. Must’ve rigged the match to favor themselves.'

He had suspicions but no proof—nothing to confront them with.

And there was no need.

Viron already looked visibly uncomfortable.

“We beat Wisdom in the first round, huh?”

Arkandric smugly leaned in, making Viron change his expression to feigned calm.

“Ahem, he’s exceptionally talented. It was expected from the start.”

“Really? Strange—your guy looked a little too tailor-made. Sealing aura? Is that even magic for students?”

“That’s why we selected him. Facing Mircel was just a fortunate accident.”

Arkandric mentally cursed him as a shameless bastard, then turned his gaze to the principals of Ever Blaze and Scarlett, who remained speechless.

Was being outdone by Frostheart that shocking?

Their faces were completely blank, as if their souls had left them.

‘Hmm. If only Viron had that same expression…But realistically, this is a situation where all I can do is click my tongue. Even coming in third place was enough to shock the Pathfinder HQ.’

Still hoping for second, Arkandric prayed earnestly.

‘I won’t ask for more. Please, just second place. Just second.’

But the next duel was merciless.

***

In the second round, Aslay tried to close in on a mage using martial arts, but countless clones left his swinging at air, and he ended up kneeling from a water-made thorn in the thigh.

Wisdom rarely had bad matchups.

They analyzed opponents, bribed officials to obtain match lists, and adjusted match orders to their advantage.

Apparently, Frostheart was no exception.

Limberton noticed and scowled.

“Look at those clones. Isn’t that too much for Aslay? Same with Mircel—everything seems rigged in their favor.”

“Our secrecy was our strength, but since we showed our hand in round one, it’s worthless now. Of course they’d come fully prepared.”

“Wait, are you saying they knew our match lineup? That they used underhanded tactics?”

“Well, yeah.”

Limberton glared toward the Wisdom participants.

“Cheating scumbags. Now I can’t help but hate them too.”

“What do you expect from those guys? They’re just following orders from above.”

Being playable characters meant they were usually on the good side, and many of them disliked such tactics.

But considering they ambushed each other even before the tournament, the event was never clean to begin with.

Underhanded tricks were implicitly accepted.

“Should we file a complaint?”

“Won’t matter, Limberton. Just look at the atmosphere. Most people in the stands already know Wisdom pulls tricks like this. They support them anyway. It even makes the fight against Valient more entertaining.”

“Still...”

"Think differently. It’s not entirely bad for the participants either. It's like a double-edged sword."

While I was explaining to him, Aslay straightened his back, gasping heavily.

Surrounded by ten clones.

He approached to grab them, but once again, it was just a clone.

When his hand swirled through empty air, jeers erupted from the spectators.

"Trying to fight barehanded without even a weapon? Does he even know how to handle one?"

"All he does is try to grab them—what is he even doing? He should just throw a punch or something. It's painful to watch."

Even I felt annoyed listening to them.

Because of his cursed trait, Aslay’s accuracy was limited to just 60 percent.

Other than grappling, he had no options.

If he missed a critical hit even once, he would expose a huge opening and get finished off by a devastating counterattack.

"They blabber without knowing anything."

Aslay’s movements noticeably slowed.

The opponent unleashed rain magic on him.

Even while the clones mimicked the spellcasting movements, Aslay didn’t give up.

Thorns of rain extended in all directions.

Long gashes appeared on his skin, and the accumulated damage kept building up.

At the moment Aslay reached for a clone he hadn’t checked yet—

His hand pierced through the air, and his eyes trembled.

Then, a voice flowed out from a corner of the dueling ground.

"Surprised? Yeah. I actually never revealed my real body from the start."

Aslay's opponent was a magician skilled in water magic.

All the clones were created using light refraction and shaping magic.

The real body was hiding invisibly in a corner of the dueling ground, controlling everything.

He confidently revealed himself now because the match was already decided.

"If you don't want to die of suffocation, surrender."

A bubble film had somehow formed around Aslay.

"Even if you try to tear it, it's useless. It took a long time to prepare, so it’s a very special bubble."

The film gradually shrank, wrapping around Aslay like a vacuum seal.

Even though the outcome was clear, Aslay staggered toward his opponent.

As the distance closed, his bloodshot eyes slowly shut, and his knees dropped toward the floor.

The opponent slumped his shoulders, watching Aslay.

"Such tenacity. I almost fell into mana exhaustion."

Watching Aslay suffer a crushing defeat, a thought crossed my mind.

Actually, the chances of encountering such an opponent were high.

I could have sugar-coated it, offering advice like "If you target this weakness, you'll win."

It was partly because Wisdom was supposed to advance according to the story.

But true growth must be achieved independently, not relying on future knowledge.

If I kept helping, they would eventually depend on it.

And someday, when they faced a crisis without me, they might die helplessly.

As someone who wished they could survive on their own, I genuinely didn’t want that to happen.

...It seemed I had grown attached to them.

"It's okay, Aslay. Hersel will win next."

"Yeah, it's just one loss. Nothing to feel sorry about. We still have Hersel."

"Even if the situation is bad, Hersel will win—even if he has to risk his life."

Well, it’s a kind of tough love.

***

The Aizen Arena building had waiting rooms prepared for each academy faction.

Although Dorosian wasn’t a participant, she freely roamed there.

Of course, she didn't have permission.

"Wait, this area is off-limits except for authorized personnel—huh?! Dorosian."

Dorosian pointed her finger at the startled staff member and cast a spell.

His eyes grew blurry, then quickly brightened with a cheerful expression.

"Ah, Lady Dorosian. Do you have business in the waiting rooms?"

"Yeah, that's right. But where were they located again? Was it here?"

"Heh. Wisdom’s waiting room is this way. To think a participant would forget—must be how much you’re focused on the tournament!"

Dorosion calmly let herself be guided into Wisdom’s waiting room.

Since everyone was preparing, the inside was empty.

While looking around, she spotted a rectangular bag.

The buckle bore the emblem of a black horse, symbol of the Grice family.

'Here it is. Arshian's bag.'

When she opened the bag, a towering wooden storage unit emerged.

'Father, you even lent such a precious heirloom to Arshian.'

This special bag could compress objects down to one-third their size.

Dorosion hesitated whether to take the bag but eventually shook her head and cast a spell on it.

Given Arshian’s skills, it would take him about 10 hours to open the bag now.

'It’s a shame, but to move forward with the story Hersel mentioned, it can’t be helped. Wisdom must face Valient.'

All Dorosian wanted was for a few members of the Magic Division to win.

To make that happen, she had to block off Arshian's escape options completely.

Specifically, stopping her from using equipment meant for the fight against Valient.

If they used that equipment early, Frostheart’s Magic Division would suffer a crushing defeat.

'This should be enough. Now, let’s go pick out the gear for our side.'

After finishing her work, Dorosian left the waiting room.

She had left her belongings in Frostheart’s waiting room.

On her way down the hall, she spotted a man deeply engrossed in a book.

It was Hersel.

Dorosion hid the smile creeping across her face.

She walked casually to avoid appearing suspicious.

For a moment, she thought of startling him since he was so absorbed in his reading.

But seeing his serious expression, she decided against it.

'What is he reading?'

The title was "The Disappearing Shadow of Her."

It was a story about a woman, the protagonist’s whole world, dying tragically.

Rustle—

He slowly turned to the final page.

Only then did Dorosion make her presence known.

"Is it really okay to be lounging around here?"

"Ah, you were there?"

As he turned, a faint floral scent spread.

"Why are you wearing perfume right before a duel?"

"I didn’t spray anything."

"Really? Then why are you reading a book here?"

"I stopped by briefly to check something. Since I was almost done reading, I paused for a moment."

Hearing this, Dorosion more or less understood.

'He must have given up.'

Well, when she heard his opponent was Lilot, she figured there was no hope.

After all, among those who had suffered at Dorosion’s hands, Lilot was one of the few who could be considered a proper rival.

'I remember tying up her skirt above her head and hanging her on the clock tower... She never wore skirts again after that. That was the price for protesting my tyranny.'

Of course, Lilot had a knack for beating up delinquent noble brats, regardless of skill, and was pretty strong.

'She was impressive.'

While thinking this, Dorosion felt Hersel's gaze.

"Hm?"

Without a word, he softened the tension around his eyes.

His sharp look faded, and an unexpected gentleness emerged.

As his face drew closer—

Dorosion thought again how absurdly handsome he was.

'What is this? Is it just the mood? Somehow he looks different today.'

Still, she didn’t want to put it into words.

Dorosion maintained a foxlike composure.

Then, suddenly, his hair brushed her ear, and a low voice whispered.

"...The bond you gave me was a gift that transcended time."

It was a voice soaked in melancholy.

Overflowing emotions of longing and tenderness broke through.

Without realizing, Dorosion’s guarded expression melted, and she stared blankly at Hersel.

He smiled and showed her the book’s cover.

"How was it? A famous line from the novel. Doesn’t it stir your heart?"

Only then did she realize he had been joking.

But by that time, Hersel was already checking the wall clock and hurrying away.

"Oops, it’s already time. I must go now."

Even as the sound of his footsteps faded, Dorosion couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Her mind was now complicated with countless "what ifs."

‘...Was he trying to flirt with me?’

He certainly had the sensitivity for it.

The potion in her pocket was also safe.

***

Other than the booing, the environment wasn’t bad.

"This is an insult to the Aizen Arena. A guy like that, calling himself a magician?"

An insult? You should consider it an honor.

"Is he planning another shady trick?"

Shady trick? As if all they could ever do was belittle my wisdom.

"Everyone, watch carefully with your eyes wide open. His opponent is a woman. Who knows what horrendous thing he might do? We must all bear witness!"

Well, I can’t argue with that.

After all, what I was about to do to Lilot would definitely be classified as horrendous.

While walking up to the dueling ground, I checked the bare skin at my chest by tugging at my shirt collar.

I stopped when I reached the line designated by the referee.

The first words I said to Lilot were purely psychological warfare.

"How about a riddle?"

Lilot reacted with a face full of hostility.

"Out of nowhere?"

"Think of it as a game. Guess which of my five senses awakened first."

"Then why don’t you guess what I know about you?"

Such a smug attitude.

Lilot probably knew I was a magician specializing in a unique branch after the fight with Ever Blaze.

But such impressions could easily be shifted.

No matter how firm a belief, once humans saw a few pieces of contradictory evidence, they wavered.

"Heh, so you know. Yes, I’m a magician specializing in shaping magic."

I swung my staff and created a teddy bear.

Seeing my magic, Lilot’s pupils trembled with unease.

"…Shameless. Creating such a grotesque monster and calling yourself a shaping magician?"

Well, I’ll admit her sharp eyes.

But did she just call my teddy bear a monster?