The first round ended as the sun reached its peak, and all the remaining contenders were allowed a short break to recover from their fights.
On the giant screen, the sixteen remaining contestants were listed out in their numbers, which now formed a clear tournament bracket.
Once again, Arthur would be fighting first. He glanced at his opponent, an Apprentice Bishop from Highcrest Academy named Gianna. The crossed keys symbol of a Bishop was embroidered on her fine robes. This wasn't going to be as easy as his previous matches.
"Well, at least I got to rest the longest," Arthur murmured with a small laugh as he looked at Orion, who was still meditating a few feet away, trying to recover the mana he had overused in his previous fight. The time passed by quickly, with every student locked in a spell of tense silence.
Soon, Arthur's name was called again, and he took the stage for the second time today.
The roar of the crowd around him slowly faded away as he focused on the girl who had just walked up.
He could see her staff. It was crafted from a polished, pale wood, with silver lines twisting around it like vines. Intricate inscriptions on the silver pulsed with a faint blue haze. His hand clenched around the hilt of his own plain sword.
"Nobles."
He had to be careful in this fight. Without a doubt, the staff in her hands was a Magic Armament. Rare, precious, and incredibly powerful, it would amplify her spells significantly.
The moment the starting gong went off, Arthur moved. He didn't charge forward; he simply shifted his weight, his body already primed for evasion.
The next second, right where he had stood, a giant fireball, far larger and more intense than the ones the Pawn conjurers had used, suddenly appeared. It slammed into the packed earth, burning the floor pitch black and sending a wave of heat across the platform.
"Damn, she's quick," he cursed internally as his body swayed, already anticipating her next move. "Chantless casting. That staff is dangerous."
Gianna frowned, surprised that her opening attack had missed completely. "You're fast, I'll give you that," she said, her voice laced with the casual arrogance of someone used to winning. She raised her staff again. "Earth Spike Field!"
The platform beneath Arthur's feet suddenly trembled. Dozens of sharp, jagged stone spikes erupted from the ground in a wide radius around him, trying to impale him.
But Arthur was already a blur. He weaved through the emerging spikes like a ghost, his feet never staying in one place for more than a heartbeat. The spikes shot up, meeting only empty air where he had been moments before.
In the Blackstone waiting area, one of Alaric's goons scoffed. "Look at him, just scurrying around like a rat. Is that all Everglen teaches? How to run?"
"Pathetic," another agreed. "He hasn't even tried to attack."
Alaric, however, was silent. His eyes were narrowed, focused not on Arthur's dodging, but on how he was dodging.
"That's not just running," Alaric thought, a flicker of annoyance in his gaze. "Each step is precise. There's no wasted movement. What is that footwork?"
Back on the platform, Gianna was getting frustrated. "Stand still, you rat!" she snapped. "Is running all you can do? Specter's Hounds!"
She pointed her staff, and five bolts of pure, violet energy, each shaped vaguely like a phantom wolf's head, shot out. They snarled through the air as they locked onto Arthur's position, curving to follow his movements.
Arthur didn't try to outrun them. Instead, his sword was finally drawn.
"Gale Rend Slash!"
His blade became a flicker of grey steel, mana coating its edge. He didn't meet the spectral hounds head-on. He angled his blade, deflecting the first two into the ground, where they exploded harmlessly.
He used the momentum to spin, his sword striking the third and fourth, sending them careening into each other. The final hound, he simply sidestepped at the last possible second, letting it fly past his ear.
Arthur remained silent, his expression calm, his breathing steady. This seemed to infuriate Gianna more.
"Fine! If you won't come to me, I'll just burn it all down! Inferno Circle!" she shouted, slamming the butt of her staff onto the platform.
A ring of intense, magical fire erupted around her, then rapidly expanded outwards, a churning wall of flame that threatened to consume the entire stage. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to dodge.
The crowd gasped. This was a high-level area-of-effect spell, powerful and difficult to control.
But Arthur didn't panic. As the wall of fire rushed towards him, he took a low stance, his own mana flaring. "Ironwood Stance!" He channeled his energy, not into his weapon, but into his own body, reinforcing it, preparing for the impact. He held his sword in a defensive guard before him.
The flames washed over him.
For a moment, he was completely engulfed. Gianna smiled, confident in her victory. But as the flames died down, a figure remained standing. Arthur's simple tunic was singed, his hair slightly frazzled, but he was otherwise unharmed, his sword still held steady.
"How…?" Gianna stammered, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You're just an Augmenter! You shouldn't be able to withstand that!"
Arthur finally spoke, his voice even. "Your own mana control is sloppy. You waste too much energy."
His words struck a nerve. Gianna's face twisted in rage. "You peasant! You dare lecture me? I'll show you sloppy! Prison of Thorns!"
This time, thick, razor-sharp vines shot from the ground, forming a cage around Arthur, the thorns dripping with a viscous, paralytic poison.
At the same time, she prepared another attack. "Tempest Lance!" A spear of swirling wind and razor-sharp air condensed in front of her staff, aimed directly at the center of the thorn cage. She was going to impale him while he was trapped.
But the Arthur inside the cage just… faded. It was another after-image.
The next moment, Arthur appeared right beside her his sword ready to come crashing down.
Gianna shrieked, startled, her concentration breaking. The Tempest Lance dissipated before it could even be launched. She tried to swing her staff at him like a club, a desperate, clumsy move.
Arthur easily ducked under the swing. He didn't press the attack, instead creating distance again with another short burst of movement, reappearing on the other side of the platform. He was toying with her, and she knew it.
Her face was flushed with anger and humiliation.
"FIGHT ME!" she screamed, her composure completely gone. She poured the last of her significant mana reserves into one final, spectacular spell.
The blue haze around her staff glowed with an almost blinding intensity. "I'll tear you apart! Archon's Judgment!"
A massive beam of pure, white-hot energy formed above her, crackling with immense power, and shot towards Arthur like a falling star. It was far too large and too fast to be dodged completely by normal means.
This was her ultimate move.
Arthur saw the attack coming. He saw the desperation in her eyes, the way her stance was completely open, all her energy poured into this one attack. This was his chance.
As the beam descended, he didn't use Phantom Step to disappear. Instead, he did something unexpected. He charged forward, directly into the path of the attack.
Then, his body blurred. He didn't just create one after-image, but a series of them, flickering in and out of existence along a zig-zagging path.
In the waiting area, a student from Everglen gasped, his eyes wide. "No… that's not just Phantom Step! That's the third stage of the footwork, the 'Mirage Dance'! To master it to that level in a month is… impossible!"
The beam of Archon's Judgment slammed into the platform where he'd been, carving a deep, molten trench, but Arthur was already through.
He appeared directly in front of the shocked Gianna, who had no defenses left.
The flat of his blade smacked squarely against the side of Gianna's neck.
Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed onto the platform in a heap, unconscious.
Silence descended on the arena for a moment, followed by an even louder roar of shock and amazement than before.
Arthur stood over his defeated opponent, breathing steadily.
"Winner, Arthur Greymark!"