Ten minutes finally pass.

  The Executor Machine activates, firing ten homing projectiles through its glowing magic circle.

  The air grows thick with tension as spectators and masters watch the decisive moment unfold.

  The ten projectiles surge past Tseryo, streaking downward with relentless speed—straight toward Zeff.

  From above, Tseryo’s cold gaze lingers, savoring the seconds until his long-awaited revenge is complete.

  Zoi’s voice cracks, almost breaking into tears.

  “Zeff, get up!!! Runnnn!”

  Blizt!

  A sudden spark of electro flares—lighting the arena floor where Zeff lies.

  Not the roar of an explosion echoed, but a barrage of electro flashes streaking rapidly from the base of the rocky hill. The silver-violet light surged forward, veering away from the spot where Tseryo stood. Ten homing missiles instantly locked onto its trail, pursuing without pause.

  Tseryo’s eyes widened in disbelief.

  “He’s still conscious?”

  Zeff leapt high out of the rocky hill’s base.

  The crowd, who almost loses all hope for Zeff, is utterly stunned. With lightning-charged electro speed, Zeff shoots forward like a streak, straight toward Tseryo, while ten homing missiles chase relentlessly at his back.

  Tseryo tightens his grip on the sword.

  “So, that’s your plan?”

  This time, no daggers are in Zeff’s hands. As he dashes forward at blinding electro speed, he clenches both fists tight. On the backs of his hands, the glowing marks of two orbs emerge.

  “Zoi’s upgraded orbs…”

  Tseryo begins readying a strike of water and ice. Zeff keeps rushing in, drawing closer and closer, the swarm of homing missiles chasing right behind him.

  “Now!”

  Blitz!

  In the blink of an eye, Zeff vanishes from sight.

  Tseryo’s tension shatters in sudden shock. The ten homing projectiles veer toward him, forcing him to unleash his prepared water strike against them all.

  BLAAARR!

  A thunderous explosion shakes the arena.

  Though he manages to block, the explosive force of ten magic missiles hurls Tseryo backward. His protective sheath plummets to 50%. He drops to his knees, chest tight with pain, clutching his sword to stay upright.

  “Such… destructive power…”

  He barely begins to search for Zeff when that sound cracks the air again—

  Blizt!

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  This time, from above.

  Tseryo’s eyes widen. No respite—Zeff descends, unleashing a devastating strike from the skies.

  “SPEAR OF THUNDER!!”

  DHZAAAAAAR!!!

  The arena shakes violently under the cataclysmic blast of electro. Blinding light sears the eyes of every spectator. The thunderous roar echoes across the academy grounds.

  “Tseryo!!”

  Vichel’s voice trembles with fear. Tseryo’s protective sheath gauge collapses to 0%.

  .

  After the cataclysmic electro blast subsides, silence grips the spectators. Not a single voice dares to break the tension. Everyone strains with anticipation, desperate to know what remains inside the arena—what has become of Tseryo after taking such a strike.

  Jacelin and Bertan sit frozen in place, their bodies locked in the same breathless stillness.

  As the smoke of the explosion thins, Zeff’s figure emerges, standing atop one of the rocky peaks. His breaths come heavy and forceful, as though the last attack has drained every ounce of his stamina.

  His gaze drops downward—toward Tseryo, lying motionless on the ground.

  The medics and priests rush into the arena, immediately checking Tseryo’s condition.

  The committee and Faculty Council exchange uneasy looks.

  “Even with the priest’s protective sheath, an electro blast of that magnitude could still cause direct harm to Tseryo Lavrel’s body.”

  “Oh no, we mustn’t end up in conflict with Duke Lavrel of Karsh.”

  One of the medics who has checked on Tseryo, signals from afar to the committee at the edge of the arena.

  “He’s safe, only unconscious.”

  Relief instantly spreads among everyone involved in the match, including the audience who had feared for Tseryo’s condition. Zeff sits cross-legged atop the rocky peak, releasing the tension from his body. Deep inside, he too is relieved that his opponent hasn’t suffered a serious injury from his power.

  The announcer immediately raises his voice,

  “Here is our first finalist! Zeff Lou Roaaan!!”

  Cheers erupt across the arena as the crowd claps and roars Zeff’s name. Jacelin impulsively hugs Bertan in pure joy. Zoi beams wide, tears of happiness glimmering in her eyes. The Grand Master also smiles once more, proud of his favored participant.

  “Just like a dark horse—his moves are utterly unpredictable.”

  Still seated atop the rocky hill, Zeff barely reacts to the thunderous ovation. But when he spots Zoi waving at him from the stands, he smiles back at the girl and raises his fist high in acknowledgment.

  .

  Verlyn Academy Medical Hall

  Tseryo, lying on one of the infirmary beds, slowly opens his eyes. His brows furrow as the dizziness in his head lingers. A few faint scratches mark his cheek, yet they do nothing to diminish his handsome features.

  As Tseryo struggles to steady his body, his ears catch the hushed voices of two girls speaking behind the curtain that partitions his bed. The tones are familiar to him.

  “He’s awake.”

  “Oh, good. You talk to him, I’m going to see Zeff.”

  “Jacelin ….”

  With that, Vichel is left alone in Tseryo’s ward.

  “Vichel?”

  Tseryo’s voice calls to her from behind the curtain.

  Vichel grows slightly awkward, suddenly left alone with Tseryo—especially since he’s the only patient in the ward. She takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly to calm herself. Gathering her composure, she steps fully out from behind the curtain, though her smile still carries a trace of unease.

  “Hi… how are you feeling?”

  The young master is already sitting up on the bed, looking much better. He greets Vichel with a gentle smile.

  “I feel better now.”

  Tseryo shifts, trying to find a more comfortable position, and finally leans back against the headboard.

  “How long was I unconscious?”

  “Counting until now, almost an hour.”

  “That long?” Tseryo is taken aback.

  “Can you imagine how strong Zeff’s electro strike was to knock you out? The whole arena shook. The Faculty Council was deeply worried when you didn’t move.”

  “Then the match …?”

  Vichel shrugs with a relaxed smile.

  “Zeff advanced to the final.”

  A heavy sigh escapes Tseryo’s lips, his gaze dimming, disappointment clear in his eyes.

  “My training still isn’t enough.”

  “But I truly admired your match.”

  Those words draw Tseryo’s eyes toward Vichel.

  “Your elemental strength is incredible—I honestly didn’t expect it. I think Zeff only managed to win because he used the homing missiles in the arena. If it had been a pure duel between contestants, I believe you would have won.”

  Vichel’s expression reflects the honesty behind her words. What she says is exactly what she thinks, and her sincerity leaves a deep impression on Tseryo.

  “Thank you—you’ve saved me from sinking too deep into regret. But … the disappointment still lingers, because I failed to throw Zeff Lou Roan out of the arena,” his gaze fixes directly on Vichel, his tone turning cold, “the way he threw you out last year.”

  Vichel jolts at the words.