The atmosphere in Verlyn Academy’s arena grows lively again as the matches continue. The cheers of the crowd rise louder when the announcer’s voice booms across the stage.

  “Before we move on to the final round, the semifinalists who were defeated in the previous two matches will now battle for third place. Ladies and gentlemen, once again, let’s welcome to the arena—Tseryo Lavrel and Heirian Geroga!”

  Thunderous applause greets Tseryo and Heirian as they step onto the platform. Yet, the fire in their expressions no longer burns as brightly as it did in their earlier matches.

  Heirian glares at Tseryo with a deeply sour face.

  “This time, I’ll put you coma in the hospital until that arrogant girlfriend of yours cries tears of blood over you.”

  Tseryo already looks bored, unimpressed by such a worn-out threat.

  “Thanks for calling a good girl like Vichella Arleith my lover. I guess I’m not as lonely and pitiful as you are.”

  With that, Tseryo turns away and heads toward the arena entrance. The words make Heirian’s blood boil, and he shouts after him:

  “You’ll pay for that, damn you!!”

  The Last Blood Executioner.

  Tseryo and Heirian step back into the same arena, under the same rules. The expressions on their faces both carry the weight of grudges against the executioner machine that cost them their victories before.

  But Heirian’s gaze burns fiercer than ever, eyes blazing as he fixes them on Tseryo. In his grip, the massive claymore seems ready to unleash a storm of fire.

  “This time, I’ll make sure all ten missiles lock onto him!”

  The command rings out.

  “Begin!”

  Heirian Geroga charges forward with fiery fervor, carrying his claymore as he leaps swiftly from one rocky peak to another, closing the distance to Tseryo in mere moments.

  Yet to Tseryo—who has once faced Zeff, the master of electro speed—Heirian’s movements seem sluggish. Calm and focused, he waits for his opponent’s arrival.

  The moment Heirian reaches him, the claymore swings with full force, unleashing a tremendous surge of fire.

  Blaaar!

  The fiery wave expands wide, its crimson glow flooding the arena. A savage grin twists across Heirian’s face.

  “With that big explosion, there’s no way he could’ve dodged it.”

  But his ambition for victory dulls his caution.

  Without realizing it, a powerful surge of water erupts from below, sending Heirian crashing down. From behind the rising wave, Tseryo emerges.

  The spectators gasp in surprise at the sudden reversal.

  Tseryo immediately fixes his gaze on Heirian, who has just fallen onto one of the rocky cliffs. His blue sword rises, ready for a second strike.

  Before Heirian can fully regain his footing, another surge of water crashes into him. The fire-wielding youth is hurled back once more, unable to even lift his claymore.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  With swift sword movements, Tseryo keeps pressing forward, unleashing wave after wave of water without pause. Each time Heirian is knocked back, Tseryo immediately closes the distance, striking again and again. The fire-wielder is relentlessly battered, unable to find a break.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What is this?! Heirian Geroga can neither counter nor evade Tseryo Lavrel’s attacks! His protective sheath keeps dropping!”

  “Why does it look to me like he’s taking revenge for losing to Zeff?” Jacelin comments from the spectators’ seats.

  Heirian finally manages to dodge Tseryo’s latest surge. This time, he doesn’t crash to the ground but lands firmly on both feet, quickly taking a battle stance. Tseryo closes in again with his water-forged sword. Heirian’s battered face burns with fury as he swings his claymore with all his might, ready to unleash a storm of fire.

  “CURSE YOU!!”

  But his ambition, clouded by uncontrolled emotion, blinds him to the small trick Tseryo has prepared. Just ahead of him, a transparent bubble of water has already formed, waiting.

  Just as Heirian’s flaming claymore is about to unleash its power, Tseryo forms a simple magic circle with a swift hand gesture—enough to trigger a teleport. In an instant, he swaps places with the water bubble.

  Heirian’s eyes widen as his opponent suddenly appears right before him. Tseryo immediately launches a double airborne kick—one strike knocking the claymore aside, the other landing squarely on Heirian’s face.

  Once again, Heirian is sent sprawling, crashing hard into the ground, his claymore torn from his grip.

  For a moment, Tseryo glances at the status screen—Heirian’s protective sheath is already down to 22%.

  Once again, he unleashes a surging wave of water through his blade. The strike slams hard into Heirian, sending his protective sheath plummeting to just 4%.

  Meanwhile, the battle clock ticks into the eighth minute.

  The Faculty Council can already tell who is about to emerge as the victor.

  “A claymore wielder with such slow attack speed is simply no match for Tseryo Lavrel.”

  Heirian can only lie on the ground, gasping for air as his body aches from all the blows he has taken. Tseryo dissolves his water blade, then walks calmly toward where the fire wielder lies.

  Through the grimace of pain, Heirian still wears a scowl at his opponent. His voice is filled with fury.

  “Damn it! Why don’t you just finish me off?!”

  Tseryo looks down coldly at his powerless opponent.

  “Yes, one small strike from me would instantly shatter your protective sheath and the priests would drag you out of the arena. But … that’s not what I want to see.”

  A sinister smile spreads across Tseryo’s face, betraying the ending he desires. It makes Heirian tense up, consumed by rage.

  “You want to see me blasted by the missiles?! You bastard!” Heirian roars in fury.

  “In my family, using foul language is strictly forbidden—it’s a mark of poor education. But just this once, I truly want to use it against you.”

  With eyes cold and full of disdain, Tseryo delivers the words.

  “Die, loser!”

  Ten minutes are up. The executioner machine unleashes ten missiles, all of them striking the helpless Heirian.

  Keeping his distance, Tseryo watches with a satisfied smile, followed by a short sigh— as if defeating the fire wielder is no achievement worth noting to him.

  “Here is our third-place winner, Tseryo Lavrel!”

  Thunderous applause greets Tseryo as he steps out of the arena. Many girls grow even more enchanted after witnessing his performance. Tseryo only gives a slight bow of his head in gratitude before quickly stepping down from the stage.

  Claiming third place does little to lift the spirits of the young master of Lavrel. With a blank expression, Tseryo returns to the participants’ room.

  Vichel greets him with a warm smile.

  “I knew you would win.”

  Only then does a faint brightness return to Tseryo’s face, though it shows merely as a thin smile.

  “It’s easier than I imagined.”

  “You’ve made Heirian Geroga take twenty bullets in a single day.”

  “Looks like water alone isn’t enough to cool down that overheated head of his.”

  A soft laugh passes between them—lighthearted banter that means so much to Tseryo, who always buries every emotion behind a formal smile.

  .

  The pause doesn’t last long. The battlemage competition reaches its final stage. With full spirit, the announcer calls out the names of the two finalists to step onto the stage.

  Vichel takes a deep breath first, bracing her mind.

  “Huff, time to step into the execution ground.”

  “Want to hear my advice?”

  Vichel turns her gaze to Tseryo.

  “Follow your intuition—you’re very good at that.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  Answered with a faint smile that carries warmth, Tseryo says, “I’ve often watched your training.”

  Vichel raises her brows, truly surprised. But she values the attention deeply, and a smile blossoms on her face.

  “Thanks.”

  Now she feels more confident as she walks toward the arena.