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Chapter 334

One thing was certain.

The Kona Academy had immense confidence in their students’ abilities.

The problem was that both Ashuria and Melissa had learned to conceal their aura and mana.

Melissa, by virtue of the Heavenly Demon Divine Sword, had naturally mastered the art, while Ashuria had been taught restraint so she wouldn’t cause accidents.

So, from their perspective, the Imperial Academy’s students appeared unimpressive.

Both academies deliberately limited information exchange, but since Kona Academy’s current generation was an exceptional “golden class,” this arrogance made sense.

Although there were many events in the original lineup—some testing teamwork or other skills besides combat—they had deliberately chosen the Captain’s Battle.

Because in a head-on fight, they were sure they would win.

Of course, they seemed intimidated by my presence.

But since I was merely the supervising professor and not a participant, I wasn’t considered a factor worth worrying about.

To them, there was no reason to lose—having been overpowered in the professors’ meeting, they were eager to reclaim face through the students’ duel.

What they didn’t realize, however, was that our side had not one, but two natural disasters.

One born of nature, and one manufactured for war.

Melissa, accustomed to suppressing her energy due to her sword and training, and Ashuria, who needed restraint lest she injure others with her sheer power.

Neither revealed their true strength.

“Those bastards have no sense of decency whatsoever.”

Basara Krevard spat a curse as soon as they returned to their lodging after the banquet.

In truth, the first evening had gone relatively smoothly—until, as soon as the events were announced and the banquet resumed, two men approached them.

The notorious playboy of the Fedmore royal family, Talion Fedmore, and Rodri Algras, who had once made advances on Luna and been shut down.

The pair swaggered up as though already victorious, mockingly telling the Imperial students not to be ashamed when they lost, since facing them was simply bad luck.

The other three Kona students ignored them and continued to enjoy the banquet, but their provocation had clearly gotten under the Imperial students’ skin.

Sensing a brawl about to break out, I stepped in to calm things down and announced that, since it was the first day, everyone would turn in early.

“You saw it yourselves—the first event is the Captain’s Battle. Anyone not know what that is?”

Of course, no one answered.

Silence filled the room.

“Well, here’s something interesting: they rigged it.”

“Huh?”

“They tampered with the draw so that the Captain’s Battle would definitely be picked.”

Basara’s face turned red.

“This calls for an official protest—!”

“But why bother?”

I said casually.

“Isn’t this actually good for us?”

“Huh?”

When I repeated myself, he looked dumbfounded.

“The format’s simple: five one-on-one matches, best of three wins. They’re confident in their strength, that’s all.”

I pointed at Melissa.

“Ecosystem disrupter.”

Then at Ashuria.

“Also an ecosystem disrupter.”

Then at the remaining three.

“Competent chicks who don’t get beaten up anymore.”

Basara grimaced but stayed silent, unable to refute it.

“You just need one of the three of you to win. Simple enough, right?”

Basara hesitantly raised his hand.

“Uh… Professor, I heard that Prince Fedmore is an upper-level Expert. If something unexpected happens—”

“Hmm?”

“Senior Melissa is also an upper-level Expert, right? But if he really is that strong, maybe—”

Before he could finish, Melissa playfully lifted her hand.

A blade of aura shimmered in her grip.

“That kind of aura blade would be hard to—wait… aura blade?”

He blinked in confusion.

“Senior… that’s an aura blade, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Why what? I’m a Sword Master, so of course I can use it.”

“…Excuse me?”

All three—Basara, Carnivel, and Lishia—stared at her, dumbfounded.

“I bet they’ll rig the matchups too,”

I said.

“It’ll probably be arranged so they have the advantage.”

Someone in Valtosma’s administration must’ve taken a bribe.

We could deal with that later.

“The first match is in two days. I’ll help you prepare for whatever worries you have.”

“How?”

Carnivel asked.

I lifted the hammer I’d been holding.

The phantasm-forging sword, Utopia.

“With what your seniors went through.”

Those who’d once been called failures were now some of the academy’s top prospects.

* * *

The morning of the first duel dawned.

At the central exchange arena, the Kona Academy students stood proudly waiting—

until they saw the Imperial Academy approaching… looking like zombies.

“What the hell…”

Unlike Melissa and Ashuria, who appeared fine, Basara, Carnivel, and Lishia looked hollow-eyed, as if they hadn’t slept in days.

“What happened to them?”

Even Gordon Hontail, heir to one of Kona’s great houses, looked genuinely puzzled by their condition.

“Professor Leon, are they… okay?”

One of the Kona instructors asked nervously.

“They’re fine,”

Leon replied with a lazy shrug.

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“They just don’t look it.”

They didn’t look fine at all—but the match had to proceed.

The pairings were quickly drawn—

and, as expected, tampered with.

The surprising part was that Kona’s secret weapon, Gordon Hontail, had volunteered for the first match.

His opponent: Ashuria Abelgard, heir to the Grand Magus.

Kona’s faculty looked unconcerned about the result.

Originally, Ashuria was to face a weak mage named Tindel Ramos—they’d hoped to bait out the Empire’s strongest early.

But Gordon had refused, insisting on facing her himself.

“I’ve wanted to meet you,”

He said.

“The Grand Magus’s successor.”

“You know me?”

Ashuria asked calmly.

He nodded.

“I was raised to become the next Archmage. When I heard about you, I knew—if I couldn’t surpass you, I’d never reach that throne.”

Ashuria thought for a moment and shook her head.

“I can’t be an Archmage.”

“…What?”

“The Archmage is the strongest mage on the continent, right?”

“That’s right. The Hontail line has long held that title. It’s our duty to reclaim it.”

He tapped his staff, and it floated in the air as if alive.

“Rubas wanted to recruit you, but I’d rather defeat you myself.”

As he spoke, multiple magic circles flared around him. Mana rippled outward, warping the air like solar flares clashing with magnetic fields.

Ashuria merely watched.

“Fire Cannon!”

A massive fireball erupted, rocketing toward her.

The arena’s protective barrier would prevent fatal damage, but the attack was no less fierce.

It was the kind of spell few mages could even react to.

Gordon truly had the makings of a future Grand Magus.

But—

“Wind Blossom.”

BOOM!

Out of nowhere, a burst of emerald wind exploded, erasing all oxygen in the fireball’s path and snuffing it out completely.

Hisss…

Gordon’s eyes widened.

She hadn’t just deflected it—she’d twisted the chant itself and neutralized a Fourth-Circle spell outright.

His shock didn’t last long.

Expecting such resistance, he immediately unleashed a swarm of violet magic missiles.

“Magic Missile—Release!”

“Ice Blossom.”

Ashuria lazily waved her staff, tracing a half-circle.

Crackle!

A wall of ice blades surged up in a fan shape, physically deflecting every missile.

“Hah! So that’s your famous skill? Impressive! Then take this!”

Mistaking her calm for mockery, Gordon poured even more mana into his next spell.

But Ashuria continued to counter everything—

not with overwhelming power, but with perfect precision.

To instantly analyze, match, and break an opponent’s magic like that required godlike control and speed.

As their duel dragged on, Gordon’s confidence waned.

Ashuria, unbothered, simply kept responding.

She wasn’t toying with him—she was practicing restraint.

Ever since she’d learned to hold back her strength, she’d relied on reactive casting until she could control it.

And after watching Leon’s magic for so long, she’d learned plenty on her own.

* * *

“Fine then!”

Gordon shouted, breathing hard.

“Let’s see you block this!”

He raised his staff skyward, forcing mana into overload.

“Explosion!”

The chant came fast.

Heat surged through the air—too dense to counter.

Ashuria smiled softly.

“You’re amazing.”

There was no sarcasm in her voice.

Just relief.

Gordon froze.

Because suddenly—her mana erupted.

“Chain Lightning.”

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

Lightning struck before his spell could complete, wrapping his entire body.

“Gaaahhh!”

The protective barrier around him shattered.

His magic collapsed; his body hit the floor.

It wasn’t a close fight—it was an absolute wall.

“Haa…”

He looked up at her, dazed.

Ashuria approached quietly.

“You’re good. It shows how much you’ve practiced.”

“…”

“Did I tell you?”

She said softly.

“I can’t be an Archmage.”

“Why not? With talent like yours—”

“The title of Star passes to the strongest mage. I’ll never be as strong as him.”

She turned her gaze toward the stands.

There sat Leon, watching the match beside a beautiful woman, wearing his usual indifferent expression.

Gordon couldn’t sense any mana from him—but he felt something vast and invisible around him.

And at that moment, he understood.

The “wall” he’d felt… was that man’s presence.

“…I yield.”

He exhaled, taking Ashuria’s offered hand.

The first match ended in the Imperial Academy’s victory.

The second match followed: Lishia Hevilion, granddaughter of the alchemy head and a golem-master, versus Katia Vermug, a spirit summoner.

“Of all things… a spirit mage,”

Lishia muttered, her face grim.

Though she fought bravely—commanding three golems at once—spirits naturally countered constructs.

Soon, Katia’s water spirit had a blade at Lishia’s throat.

Then came the third match: Tindel Ramos of Kona, a mage, versus Carnivel Licentra of the Empire.

The problem?

No one knew what Carnivel had gone through during training.

As soon as the duel began, he shattered Tindel’s barrier magic in fifteen seconds.

Ramos specialized in keeping enemies away—standard defensive magic, fit for guarding nobles like the Hontails.

But Carnivel didn’t defend.

He charged head-on, overwhelming him instantly.

Even Kona’s professors looked shaken.

“So… that’s why he fought like a maniac during training…”

They had no idea what kind of hell Leon had put him through.

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