Baguil poured a stream of mana into the scroll, then hurled it toward the totem.

  The artifact activated instantly, hovering above the structure like a hawk ready to strike.

  "Once I break these runes, there’s no turning back…" he muttered, eyes locked on his creation.

  Eryndra knelt a few steps away, spear ready. Her gaze never left the scroll, as if she could predict the exact moment everything would change.

  "Ready?" Baguil asked.

  "Ready," she answered without a trace of hesitation.

  "Fulmen Ignis!" Baguil whispered.

  A burst of blazing lightning shot from his fingertip, striking the red seals on the scroll.

  The runes shattered with a sharp crack, and the parchment unfurled in one smooth motion, revealing glowing inscriptions that immediately began to pulse.

  Before the stunned eyes of everyone present, the first thread of mana slipped out of the green crystal… then a second… a third… and soon, thousands. They swirled into a bright green torrent, sucked into the scroll as if into a bottomless well.

  Baguil allowed himself a brief smile. Yes… this invention would change the magical world forever.

  For the first time, mana could be extracted from a crystal with such precision and delicacy.

  But the triumph lasted only seconds.

  The scroll began to swell… too fast. Far too fast.

  "Damn… it’s reaching its limit!" he barked.

  "Everyone, back!" Abodrar’s sharp command cut through the air.

  The streams of mana, unable to be absorbed, started colliding and tangling into a chaotic blaze. Some burst apart, their shards slamming into the ground in flashes of raw energy. The scroll warped, letting out a deep, rumbling growl with every surge.

  "Eryndra! Now!" Baguil shouted.

  Without hesitation, she leapt forward.

  "Lance Splash!"

  Her spear flared, wrapped in a brilliant golden aura, before she slammed it upward with staggering force.

  The scroll ripped free from the mana flow, whistling through the air as it shot higher and higher—until it reached a hundred meters.

  Then it exploded.

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  A blinding flash tore across the sky, followed by a rain of green particles drifting gently down into the arena like strange, silent snow. The totem, cut off from its power, went dark in an instant. The runes etched into its surface lost all light.

  Baguil, panting, let his clenched hands relax.

  He glanced back—the department heads were slowly lowering their guard.

  "It’s over…" he breathed, before offering Eryndra a smile.

  "Well done… Miss Eryndra."

  "Master Jorvik, can you disable the barrier of Training Dome 44?" the guild master asked firmly.

  The head trainer, a stocky man with a weathered face, glanced briefly at Eryndra. She was still catching her breath, her shoulders rising and falling from the effort, but she gave a slow, determined nod.

  Jorvik stepped up to the totem, pressing his hands against its cold surface. A pale glow ran along the carved lines, and his lips whispered an incantation so faint it was almost swallowed by the air.

  A low, deep crack echoed through the dome. Light flared from within the walls, spreading in rippling waves, until the surface thinned and thinned… becoming just a fragile, transparent film.

  With a sharp snap, it shattered—breaking into countless tiny fragments that dissolved into the air like stardust.

  The shards of baked clay that had clung to the walls, finally gave in to gravity. They fell in long streams, forming a drifting red veil that slowly descended, breaking apart as it touched the ground…

  And behind that falling curtain, the inside of the dome was finally revealed.

  Eryndra had imagined all kinds of scenarios about what she might find inside the dome.

  But when the barrier finally dissolved… she froze.

  Everything was black.

  Not the ordinary darkness of a room without light, but a complete, absolute black—deep as a moonless night.

  The floor, the walls, even the air itself seemed coated in some strange substance so dark it erased any sense of space.

  And there, in the middle of this void, stood hundreds of golems.

  They filled every corner, motionless, their eyes dim, all covered in that same black matter.

  The entire dome looked like a black hole, swallowing all color, all life.

  "Where’s the candidate?!" Maelis—the head of the healing team—shouted as she ran in with her medics and a stretcher.

  Her voice cut through the silence like a blade, and everything changed.

  The black matter shivered.

  Then, slowly, it began to retreat.

  Shadows slid down the motionless golems, peeling away in countless thin threads—millions, billions—streaming toward the ground, vanishing as if sucked into some invisible drain.

  "What… is that?" Eryndra whispered, disbelief in her voice.

  "Look at the golems!" someone called out.

  Light finally spilled over them.

  Their bodies were riddled with tiny punctures, as if pierced thousands of times by those shadowy threads.

  Then, one by one, the golems crumbled into dust.

  "Dark magic…" murmured Lirden, the strategy chief, under his breath to Abodrar.

  "Are you certain?" Eryndra asked, without taking her eyes off the scene.

  "No… but it’s not the work of any clean magic," he replied grimly.

  "Look! The candidate!" Baguil shouted from the front of the group.

  Every gaze turned to the center of the dome.

  That was where the shadow-threads were gathering, disappearing beneath the feet of a young man.

  "He’s still alive…" Eryndra breathed, the weight on her chest easing.

  As if hearing her, the boy slowly turned his head toward them.

  A shiver ran through the group.

  His eyes were black. Not just dark, but empty—void of light, like two dead lamps.

  His lips curled into a strange smile.

  Then, suddenly, he collapsed.