The morning sun bathed the school in golden light, casting warmth over the grounds as the sounds of birds chirping filled the air. Students strolled about, not in their usual uniforms, but in casual clothes, enjoying the rare calm.
BOOM. BOOOM.
The explosions echoed across the school. In the arena, a thick cloud of dust slowly cleared—revealing Akira, smashed into the wall, groaning in pain.
Sigvard, unarmed and menacing, walked toward him without breaking stride.
"Master," he said coldly, "you would have died five times if my intent was to kill."
Without pause, Sigvard surged forward with a punch. Akira vanished using Shadow Step, reappearing in front of him, gasping for breath. But before he could regain composure, Sigvard was already beside him—arm pulled back, ready to strike.
"You're too predictable," Sigvard said. "Be sharper before delivering a punch."
Akira managed to block, but the sheer force sent him crashing upward into the roof. As he began falling, Sigvard launched toward him again to deliver the final blow.
Before impact, Mr. Oliver appeared like a flash between them. He caught Akira mid-air with one arm and raised the other—meeting Sigvard's punch with an open palm. A shockwave cracked through the arena, debris scattering as if time paused.
"Valiant soldier," Oliver said sternly, "I'd like you to go easier on the students. Especially Akira. He may be Malakar to you, but to me—he's a student first."
Sigvard's expression didn't shift. "The easier I go on the young master, the closer he is to death. And I? I would have failed my purpose."
Oliver didn't respond. He simply carried Akira out of the ring, the boy barely conscious.
Sigvard then turned toward the stands and pointed at Edward, who had been quietly observing.
"Come forth."
Edward blinked in surprise, slightly offended but curious. Still, he complied, stepping down into the arena.
Mikage and Yukiko sat nearby, watching in silence—but Mikage wasn't fully present. His mind drifted back to the brutal encounters with the Nightwalker and Sigvard… the moments he'd almost lost both Yukiko and Akira. His fists clenched unconsciously.
Noticing, Yukiko gently tapped him on the head with the hilt of her katana.
"Huh?" Mikage blinked.
"You were zoning out," she said softly.
"It wasn't that bad..." he muttered, rubbing his head.
Yukiko stood, then squatted directly in front of him, locking eyes at his level. "Something's bothering you. What is it?"
Mikage's face turned slightly red at the closeness. He looked away, flustered. "I-It's nothing."
Meanwhile, on the sidelines, Akira suddenly jolted upright in Oliver's arms, adrenaline still coursing through him. He stumbled into a defensive stance, eyes wild.
"Easy!" Mr. Oliver raised a hand.
"Relax, you're safe now," Mr. Simon added, stepping in.
Moments later, the arena doors creaked open. Kane stepped in, eyes sweeping the room until they landed on the tall figure standing in the ring.
He laughed—loud, demeaning, and meant to provoke.
"So you all got your asses handed to a shadow puppet?" he scoffed, jabbing a thumb toward Sigvard with blatant disrespect.
A sigh came from Mikage. "I wouldn't go counting my eggs before they hatch," he muttered, arms folded.
Akira quietly added under his breath, "Dumbass."
Kane's glare snapped to him. "What was that, punk—?"
But he stopped mid-sentence.
A towering figure stood over him—Sigvard, who'd somehow crossed the distance silently, his shadow looming like death.
"You've got quite the mouth on you," Sigvard said coldly, his voice cutting like steel. "Let's see if you can back it up, boy."
Kane's breath caught. He tried to step back but froze in place. His vision blurred. Sweat began to bead across his forehead as his fingers twitched uncontrollably.
"I-I-It can talk...? When did he move? I didn't even hear it… and there's no mana coming from him. None."
Kane's thoughts raced in panic.
Without another word, Sigvard turned and stepped back into the ring, raising one hand and curling his fingers inward—beckoning Kane with a warrior's challenge.
As Edward walked past him, exiting the ring, Mikage turned to Sigvard with a puzzled look.
"This has been bugging me for a while… Do you even have magic? I mean, I can't sense any mana in you. So how are you this strong?"
Sigvard answered calmly, as though stating something obvious.
"I have no mana. I'm not a mage. I'm human—with no magical prowess whatsoever."
He gestured to his gear. "Only my blade and armor carry mana. My strength is muscle. Nothing more."
Everyone in the arena went silent.
> No mana? That speed... that power… he's matching and even overpowering high-level magic users? Without enhancement?
Mr. Simon's mind reeled. This defies every magical law we know.
"If he were a Divine Visionary," Mr. Oliver muttered under his breath, "he'd be ranked at least B-tier. Maybe higher."
Kane, now fully recovered from his moment of fear, smirked as he ascended the ring steps. His posture loose, cocky, and twice as exaggerated.
> "Tch… I was just being paranoid. The only reason I didn't sense him was because my mind didn't register him as a threat. He's just muscle. Pure brawn can't override magic. This'll be easy."
He cracked his knuckles, stepping onto the battlefield with a grin.
But deep down, a sliver of doubt still gnawed at the edge of his bravado.
"Anytime now," Sigvard said calmly.
Kane clicked his teeth and dashed forward at full speed, yelling, "I'll show you the difference between brute strength and real magic!"
His punch landed with a thunderous crack, sending shockwaves through the arena as dust erupted, obscuring the view. Kane smirked, laughing.
But it faded quickly.
As the dust began to settle, a single hand emerged — gripping Kane's fist.
Sigvard stood unharmed.
"You let your pride think for you," Sigvard said, his voice low and disappointed. "That will be your downfall."
He began tightening his grip. Kane winced, quickly jerking back and leaping away. Sigvard raised his hand and swiped it through the air, creating a gust of wind that cleared the dust instantly.
The spectators shielded their eyes from the blast. Mikage muttered, "Get ready for the humbling of a lifetime."
Sigvard stepped forward.
"Why clear the dust? Afraid I'd gain the edge?" Kane sneered.
"Not at all. I did it for your sake. I hunt better when my prey can't see me."
Kane scowled. "Ironhide!" he shouted.
His skin shifted, metallic plates rising over his body like armor. He launched forward, feinting low — Sigvard moved to block, but Kane spun up and went for the chin.
Blocked.
Kane stepped back and unleashed a rapid flurry of blows, each one deflected by minimal movements. He threw a heavier punch — Sigvard caught it mid-air and locked his arm.
"You activated your hide — that means you see me as a threat."
"To me, that's respect. And I always return respect..."
A sharp blow to Kane's abdomen cracked through the silence — blood sprayed from his lips as he was launched across the arena.
Coughing, Kane staggered up. "T-That punch was weak as hell..."
"You're trying to rile me up."
"Glad it's working." Kane smirked.
Suddenly, he slammed his feet into the ring, shattering the arena floor. Sigvard lost footing for the first time.
Kane charged and tackled him, raining down punches.
Sigvard caught both fists.
"Making me lose balance to gain control... Clever. But not enough."
He flung Kane off his chest like a ragdoll.
"How are you this strong?" Kane asked, groaning.
"I was trained by Malakar since childhood." Sigvard crouched beside him.
"You know why I became like this?"
"Why?" Kane asked, backing away.
"Conviction. I wanted something badly enough to walk through hell for it. I trained until even my footsteps vanished..."
He vanished.
Kane spun — too slow.
A punch struck his ribs, sending him crashing to the ground again.
"I wasn't perfect. My heartbeat always gave me away. But now... even that is silent."
Kane's Ironhide slowed him. Sigvard was in front of him again before he could react.
"Give up, or evolve. Or die."
He delivered a sharp jab to Kane's jaw.
Kane faltered — mind screaming in resistance. "Give up...? If you're aware of how much i HATE that word."
He caught himself mid-fall. Blood dripped from his lip.
He swung again — missed.
Sigvard countered.
A final blow.
Kane hit the ground. Unconscious.
His Ironhide faded, skin returning to normal.
There's no way I'm getting in the ring with that freak," Yukiko muttered under her breath.
Sigvard's gaze shifted, and he raised a hand toward Edward. "You. Step into the ring."
Edward flinched. His eyes widened as sweat streamed down his face. He shook his head furiously, unable to hide the fear.
"That's enough for today," Mr. Oliver interjected firmly.
"There isn't even a ring left to fight on."
Sigvard glanced around at the shattered arena and nodded. "I suppose you're right."
"Thank the heavens," Edward whispered, sinking in relief.
"I guess someone should carry Kane to the infirmary," Akira said, watching the unconscious boy still sprawled out.
Without a word, a few shadow soldiers emerged from Akira's feet and gently lifted Kane. Akira turned and led the way.
Inside the quiet infirmary, the shadow soldiers laid Kane gently on the bed. His breathing was ragged, sweat beading on his forehead as he let out strained murmurs—like he was fighting something in his sleep.
"Bad dream?" Akira murmured, narrowing his eyes.
Inside Kane's Mind:
Total darkness.
A void.
Everywhere around him, disembodied mouths whispered and cackled.
> "You're an embarrassment."
"Why haven't you dropped the name already?"
"You were lucky to even be born."
"Just give up."
Laughter echoed endlessly.
Kane screamed inside the darkness—
—and jolted awake, gasping for air.
"Easy, big guy. You're not fighting anymore," Akira said calmly.
Kane blinked and scanned the room. "Where... am I?"
"Infirmary," Akira replied. "I brought you here."
Kane swung his legs off the bed, stood up wordlessly, and brushed past Akira. As he walked by, he slammed his shoulder hard into Akira's with deliberate force.
Akira winced slightly. "You're welcome, ungrateful brat."