The sun rose over the Imperial Academy, but the warmth didn't reach the Grand Arena.

The massive stone colosseum was packed to the brim. Not just with first-year students, but second-years, third-years, and even scouts from the Knight Orders and Magic Towers. The Mid-Semester Practical was the first real chance to spot future talent.

The air buzzed with nervous energy.

I stood in the waiting tunnel with the rest of Class 1-A.

The atmosphere was suffocating.

Kael stood near the front. He wasn't talking to anyone. He wasn't doing his usual "Let's do our best, everyone!" routine. He was staring at the ground, his arms crossed, a dark aura practically radiating off him.

Bordon tried to pat his shoulder. Kael flinched away, his eyes snapping up like a wild animal. Bordon retreated, looking hurt.

"He's on edge," Ariana whispered beside me. She was clutching her pouch of horrors, her knuckles white.

"He's focused," I corrected, loading a magazine into my shotgun. Click-clack. "He wants blood."

"WELCOME, CADETS!"

The voice of the Vice-Principal boomed over the magical loudspeakers.

"Today, you prove your worth. Today, you show us if you are defenders of humanity or merely fodder for the demons."

Cheers erupted from the stands.

"The rules are simple. One versus One. Tournament Bracket. Win and advance. Lose and drop in rank. Knockout, Surrender, or Ring Out. Killing is prohibited, but maiming... is a learning experience. Healers are on standby."

A giant magical screen floated above the arena center. It flickered to life, shuffling names.

[MATCH 1] [Kael (Class A) vs. Jory (Class B)]

A hush fell over the crowd. The Golden Boy was up first.

Kael walked out into the sunlight. No waving to the crowd. No smile.

Jory, a large student wielding a massive war-hammer, grinned nervously.

"Hey, Kael! Let's have a good ma—"

"Begin!" Samantha shouted.

BOOM.

There was no movement. Just an explosion of sound.

The ground beneath Kael's feet cracked.

He didn't draw a sword. He didn't cast a flashy spell.

He launched himself forward like a cannonball, wrapped in golden mana so dense it looked like solid metal.

Jory barely had time to raise his hammer.

Kael didn't go around the hammer. He went through it.

CRACK.

Kael's mana-infused fist slammed into the steel shaft of the war-hammer. The weapon—forged of reinforced steel—snapped in half like a twig.

Jory's eyes bugged out.

Kael didn't stop. He grabbed Jory by the collar with his left hand and slammed his right fist into Jory's stomach.

WHAM.

Jory was lifted off his feet. He vomited bile instantly, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Kael spun and threw him.

Jory flew ten meters across the arena, crashing into the barrier wall with a sickening crunch. He slid down, unconscious before he hit the floor.

"Winner: Kael!"

The crowd was silent. It had taken three seconds.

Kael stood in the center of the ring, his chest heaving slightly. He looked at his fist, then turned his head slowly toward the waiting tunnel.

His eyes locked onto mine in the darkness.

He didn't say a word. He just turned and walked off.

"...Okay," I muttered, adjusting my collar. "He's definitely angry."

[MATCH 4] [Ariana (Class A) vs. Silas (Class C)]

Ariana walked out. She looked small in the massive arena.

Her opponent, Silas, was a rogue-type. Dual daggers. Fast. Arrogant.

"Don't worry, little girl," Silas sneered, twirling his daggers. "I won't cut that pretty face."

"Begin!"

Silas vanished. [Shadow Step].

He reappeared behind Ariana, his dagger aiming for her neck to force a surrender.

"Gotcha!"

Ariana didn't turn around. She didn't panic.

She simply dropped a glass vial at her own feet.

SMASH.

[Flash-Freeze Vapor]

A cloud of grey gas exploded outward.

Silas, who was mid-lunge, froze. Literally.

Frost crawled up his legs instantly, cementing his boots to the floor. His dagger stopped an inch from Ariana's neck, his arm stiff with cold.

"W-What?!" Silas chattered, his teeth clicking. "I can't... move!"

Ariana stepped forward, calmly walking out of the gas cloud. She was wearing a mask she had pulled up from her scarf.

She took out another vial. This one was glowing an angry, bubbling green.

She looked at Silas.

"Do you know what Gryphon Acid does to leather armor?" she asked softly.

Silas's eyes went wide with terror.

"I surrender! I SURRENDER!"

"Winner: Ariana!"

Ariana capped the acid vial and walked back to the tunnel.

"Ruthless," Elisha commented as Ariana returned, shivering slightly from the cold gas.

"Effective," I said, giving her a high-five.

The matches continued.

Celestia froze her opponent in ten seconds. Bordon shield-bashed a poor wind mage into the dirt. Elisha turned a swordsman into a pin-cushion (using blunt arrows, thankfully).

Finally, the screen flickered again.

[MATCH 12] [Lucien Ashborne (Class A) vs. Ren (Class A)]

I stood up.

Ren. I knew him. He was a Fire Mage from my own class. He had been one of the students mocking me the most at the start of the year.

I walked out into the arena.

The crowd murmured. They remembered the fight with the Princess. They wanted to see the gun.

Ren stood opposite me, his staff glowing with heat.

"I've watched you, Ashborne," Ren shouted, sweat already beading on his forehead. "You use that metal tube to shoot physical projectiles. I just have to melt them before they hit me!"

He slammed his staff down.

"[Fire Wall]!"

A wall of roaring flames, hotter and thicker than usual, erupted in front of him.

"Come on! Shoot through this!"

I stopped walking. I looked at the wall of fire.

"Melt my bullets, huh?" I muttered. "Smart strategy. Against lead."

I racked the bolt of the Benelli M4. I reached into my pouch and loaded a blue-shelled cartridge.

[Cryo-Slug]

I aimed right at the center of the fire wall.

"Let's test your thermodynamics."

BOOM!

The gun roared.

The blue slug hit the fire.

It didn't melt. It detonated.

FWASH.

A massive pulse of super-cooled mana exploded on impact.

The [Fire Wall] didn't just go out. It turned into steam instantly.

"What?!" Ren screamed as his defense vanished in a cloud of white fog.

I didn't wait. I racked the bolt again.

CLACK-CLACK.

I aimed the barrel through the fading steam, right at Ren's chest.

Ren froze, seeing the black muzzle pointing at him.

"I have four more rounds," I said calmly, my voice amplified by the silence of the arena. "The next one is Lightning. It hurts a lot more than ice."

Ren looked at his staff, then at me.

He raised his hands.

"I surrender."

"Winner: Lucien Ashborne!"

I lowered the gun and walked away.

Energy conservation.

I looked up at the bracket screen.

The names shuffled. The next round was being decided.

[MATCH 22] [Lucien Ashborne (Class A) vs. Elisha (Class A)]

The arena floor had been reset. The broken stone and ice were gone, replaced by a complex layout of pillars and low walls—a field designed for ranged combat.

I walked out to the starting line.

Opposite me, fifty meters away, stood Elisha.

She tied her chestnut hair back with a leather strip, her eyes sharp and focused. She wasn't an elf—despite the rumors that often circulated due to her uncanny eyesight—but a human noble from a family of renowned huntsmen.

She held a sleek, recurve bow made of white ash, humming with green wind mana.

"No hard feelings, Lucien," she shouted across the field, grinning. "But I'm not going to lose to a noisy metal tube."

"None taken," I replied, checking the safety on the Benelli. "Just try not to cry when I win."

"Arrogant!"

"Begin!"

TWANG.

Elisha moved instantly. She didn't draw one arrow; she drew three.

[Triple Shot: Homing Wind]

The three arrows screamed through the air, curving in unnatural arcs to flank me from the left, right, and center.

I didn't panic. My [Perception] stat slowed the world down just a fraction. I could see the mana trails guiding the arrows.

I raised the shotgun.

BOOM!

A spread of buckshot shredded the center arrow mid-air.

Simultaneously, I activated [Movement Arts: Dash].

My body blurred. I stepped sideways, letting the left arrow whiz past my ear. I ducked, and the right arrow sparked against the stone pillar behind me.

"Buckshot?" Elisha scoffed, already sprinting to a new cover. "Crude!"

She leaped onto a low wall, firing while moving. Her agility was impressive—Level 4 Movement Arts meant she was lighter than air, capable of acrobatic feats.

Zip. Zip. Zip.

Arrows rained down on my position.

I took cover behind a pillar, stone chips exploding near my face.

"She's fast," I muttered. "But not fast enough."

I took a deep breath. It was time to show the difference in our specs.

[Spell: Haste] [Skill: Adrenaline Surge (Partial Activation)]

I felt the mana flood my legs. My muscles tightened like coiled springs.

I stepped out of cover.

Elisha saw me. She drew her bowstring to her cheek.

"Got y—"

She froze.

I wasn't there anymore.

To the audience, I had vanished. To Elisha, I was a black blur tearing across the arena floor.

My Agility was 35. Hers was likely around 18.

I closed the fifty-meter gap in three heartbeats.

"What?!" Elisha's eyes widened in genuine terror. She tried to track me, but her bow couldn't traverse fast enough.

She abandoned the shot and tried to retreat, activating her own [Wind Step]. She pushed off the wall, launching herself backward.

But I was already in her airspace.

"Too slow," I whispered.

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