The mana in the arena churned. Above Lysander, a rift opened, and a massive, serpentine head made of living magma emerged. It wasn't a true dragon, but an elemental construct. It roared, shaking the barrier.

"Burn him to nothing! [Magma Deluge]!"

The Fire Drake opened its maw, and a river of lava poured out, aiming to bury Alvian.

The crowd screamed. This was a spell meant for siege warfare, not a duel.

Alvian stopped walking. He looked up at the descending lava.

"Finally," Alvian murmured. "Something worth hitting."

He reached over his shoulder and gripped the handle of the [Lance of the Void Winter].

As his hand touched the black metal, the air in the arena screamed. A violet aura exploded outward, overpowering the red glow of the lava.

Alvian activated the active skill of his new weapon.

"[Glacial Void Pierce]."

He didn't throw the spear. He thrust it upward.

A beam of violet-black energy shot from the tip of the lance. It didn't look like ice; it looked like a crack in reality that was simply cold.

The beam met the lava.

There was no steam. No explosion.

The lava simply ceased to be hot. It turned grey, then black, freezing instantly into stone mid-air. The beam continued upward, punching through the stone river, through the Fire Drake's head, and into the sky above.

"CRACK!"

The elemental construct shattered into a million pieces of obsidian.

Lysander stood frozen, staring up at the rain of black stones. His ultimate spell, destroyed with a single thrust.

Alvian lowered the lance. He blurred.

[Shadow Step].

He reappeared directly in front of Lysander.

Lysander yelped, trying to raise his staff.

Alvian grabbed the staff with his free hand. His [Wolf Tamer's Gauntlet] crushed the wood.

"You bet your position on this," Alvian whispered, leaning in close. "Bad gamble."

Alvian swept his leg. Lysander's feet were knocked out from under him. As he fell, Alvian drove the butt of the lance into Lysander's chest.

"THUD!"

Lysander gasped, the wind knocked out of him. He lay on his back, Alvian's boot on his chest, the jagged, violet-smoking blade of the lance hovering an inch from his throat.

[Target Immobilized.]

[Duel Winner: Alvian.]

The barrier dropped.

The crowd didn't cheer. They were too terrified. They had just watched a freshman dismantle a Vice-Head like he was taking apart a toy.

Alvian looked down at the terrified noble.

"I believe," Alvian said, reaching down and ripping the [Heart of the Red Drake] staff from Lysander's weak grip, "this belongs to me."

He stood up, holding the staff. He looked at the Silent Watchers who had materialized around the arena perimeter.

"Duel concluded," Alvian announced. "Someone take out the trash."

He turned and walked away, the Lance on his back, the stolen staff in his hand. He didn't look back at the fallen dragon. He had bigger monsters to hunt.

The aftermath of the duel was chaotic. Medics rushed to Lysander, who was physically intact but spiritually shattered. The students parted for Alvian like he was a plague carrier, their eyes filled with a mixture of worship and terror.

Alvian didn't go to the dorms. He went straight back to the Undercroft.

George met him at the entrance, looking like he was about to have a heart attack.

"You… you humiliated him," George stammered. "Alvian, do you know what you've done? The Arcanist Faction will declare war! The politics—"

"The Arcanist Faction is headless," Alvian interrupted, tossing the [Heart of the Red Drake] staff onto a table in Rogge's lab. "Lysander was the strongman. I broke him. The rest will fall in line or scatter."

"You're reckless," a voice came from the shadows.

Seraphina stepped out, peeling an orange this time.

"But effective," she admitted. "Lysander is currently crying in the infirmary. But there's a problem."

"The Syndicate," Alvian guessed.

Seraphina nodded, her expression grim. "They don't like loose ends. Lysander failed. He's a liability now. My Watchers intercepted a transmission ten minutes ago. An assassination order."

"On me?"

"On Lysander," Seraphina said. "They're going to kill him in the medical ward and frame you for it. 'Succumbed to internal injuries caused by the ruthless freshman.' It paints you as a murderer and silences their pawn."

Alvian's eyes narrowed. "Predictable."

"I have a team en route to secure him," Seraphina said. "If we can keep him alive, we can interrogate him. He knows who his handler is."

"Do it," Alvian said. "But that's not my concern right now."

He walked over to the Genesis Forge interface.

"The Syndicate is escalating. An assassination order on a student inside the Academy? That means they are getting desperate. The timeline is moving faster than even I anticipated."

"What's the next move?" George asked, looking between the two terrifying students.

"We need more power," Alvian said bluntly. "I'm Level 28. It's not enough. The Tournament is coming up in two weeks."

"The Overlords Academy Championship," Seraphina nodded. "The winner gets access to the Headmaster's private vault. And the Genesis Forge physically."

"I need that access," Alvian said. "The remote interface is limited. To upgrade my Talent… I need the physical anvil."

"Wait," George choked. "Upgrade your Talent? You can do that?"

Alvian ignored the question.

"To win the Tournament, I need to be at least Level 35. And I need materials to upgrade my defensive skills. [Runic Aegis] nearly killed me in Silverwood."

He pulled up a map of the world. He pointed to a desolate region in the south.

[Zone: The Ashen Sands]

[Recommended Level: 35-45]

[Hazard: Extreme Heat, Sandstorms]

"I'm going on a field trip," Alvian stated.

"The Ashen Sands?!" George cried. "That's a high-level zone! And it's a desert! Your ice magic will be weakened!"

"Exactly," Alvian said, a cold light in his eyes. "If I only fight where I'm strong, I'll never grow. Besides…"

He zoomed in on a specific part of the map. A sunken ruin.

"There's a flower there. The [Flame Flower]. It creates a potion that permanently increases Mana Regeneration. With the Lance absorbing mana and that potion… I'll have infinite sustain."

"It's suicide," Seraphina said, though she looked interested. "Going solo?"

"Always," Alvian said.

"Fine," Seraphina tossed him a badge. "This is a Silent Watcher clearance token. It will get you past the border guards. But Alvian… the Ashen Sands is Syndicate territory. They run the black markets there."

"Good," Alvian equipped the badge. "Then I won't have to look hard to find someone to kill."

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