A flurry of icicles came shooting straight at him. Elias canceled his spell and focused on dodging them.
Normally, he’d have put up his barrier or even blown the spells away—but not this time. He had to conserve mana. He was running low, and he couldn’t waste it on useless, poorly aimed attacks.
His gaze snapped up after dodging seven different shards of ice, just in time to see the armored skeleton barreling toward him. His moved his hand up, fingers already weaving through a spell circuit. Sparks snapped through the air, twin arcs of electricity coiling like serpents around his palm.
This wasn’t going to be precise. It wasn’t going to be perfect.
But he didn’t have time for either.
His mana surged violently, the circuit flaring too quickly, unstable but potent. Then—release.
A double bolt of lightning exploded forward, spiraling in a violent helix of raw power. The arena flashed white, the sheer force sending a deafening crack through the air. It struck Mr. Bones’ ice shield dead center. For a single, suspended moment—the skeleton’s momentum completely stopped; its joints locking up to resist the blow-back of force from the attack.
The charge spread violently, amplifying as it hit the lingering pools of water on the battlefield. Shards of ice broke apart from the shield, instantly cackling into miniature explosions. The entire arena hummed, the air thick with static, and for an instant, vibrating with uncertainty.
Then came the detonation.
Lightning burst outward, a violent shockwave rippling across the tiles. The ice-forged shield cracked—then shattered completely, its fractured chunks scattering like broken glass.
Mr. Bones was flung backward.
His massive frame hit the ground hard, sliding across the stage before coming to a heavy thud. Smoke curled from blackened cracks now lining his ribcage. His gauntleted arm had taken the worst of it, the ice energy being blown apart, leaving his armored forearm partially exposed through the sleek ice.
The arena fell silent.
Then, with an unnatural fluidity, the skeleton moved again.
A heavy clang echoed as Mr. Bones planted his sword into the ground. Sparks still crawled along his frame, the residual charge lingering, but he stood—unfettered.
Elias’ face drained of color. “What is this thing?! That is not a normal summon! Don’t tell me that’s the body of a resurrected War Paragon! It’s as strong as—”
A dungeon boss, Enya thought, finishing his sentence for him.
Having Mr. Bones was practically cheating.
He wasn’t just a summon. He was a full-fledged dungeon boss, and this was without her even Soul-Forging his bones. That made a terrifying difference.
Still, Elias’ magic wasn’t something to scoff at. The layered spell circuit, the double lightning bolt—it had been devastating. Without the Gravecaller’s Band enchanting and reinforcing Mr. Bones’ body, that attack might have completely incapacitated him.
If Elias had been in Enya’s place back in the dungeon, she had little doubt—he could have cleared it. Maybe even defeated Mr. Bones outright. When she fought him, she had only managed to chip his bones and force him to kneel.
She had never actually injured him.
The moment Mr. Bones hauled himself back up, Pell launched another barrage of icicles. Although he could forge them quickly, it still took time, and he didn’t have an infinite supply of power.
With each creation, he could feel the drain—the magic thinning, growing weaker the more he pushed it.
The first few icicles missed, shattering against the arena tiles in bursts of crystalline frost. But the next few found their mark.
A jagged icicle clipped Elias’ side, a sharp sting of cold lashing through his ribs. Another slammed into his forearm, throwing off his balance, forcing him to stumble mid-dodge. He barely managed to raise a hasty mana barrier in time to deflect the last two.
Elias’ expression soured. He hated wasting mana, and the fact that Pell was forcing him to burn through it defensively was beginning to seriously irritate him.
Then his entire demeanor shifted. His annoyance snapped into focus as the arena trembled beneath him.
The skeletal titans moved in tandem.
Numbskull was upright now, closing the gap, each thundering step shaking the ground. In its bony grip, it clutched another massive slab of stone, pried straight from the arena floor.
It hurled the slab forward without breaking stride.
Elias dove to the side, rolling just as the stone crashed down, obliterating the space where he had stood moments before. But he had no time to recover. Because Mr. Bones was already upon him.
The armored skeleton surged forward, greatsword now coated in frost, the lingering remnants of his shattered shield seeping into the blade.
The sword came down in a powerful arc, the swing disciplined, heavy, and perfectly aimed for Elias’ center.
Elias barely had a second to react—
He threw up a mana barrier.
It shattered on impact.
The sheer force of the blow sent him skidding backward, his boots dragging across the cracked tiles. Though he had avoided the full brunt of the blade, the impact had still blasted through his defenses, his arms trembling from the force.
His badge flashed again. Even though he blocked the attack, the shockwave and backlash from it still counted as damage.
The fight was spiraling out of his control.
The crowd erupted, voices blending into a deafening roar as the announcer’s voice boomed across the stadium.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this match has taken a shocking turn! Elias Ferris is being pushed to the limit by the little necromancer’s unstoppable summons!”
Elias’ teeth gritted so hard his jaw ached. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
He was a noble. A prodigy. The one expected to dominate this round, to crush his opponents with raw talent.
Although the girl he fought against wore clothes befitting of a noble—her class and magic use were lackluster. Her style of fighting was so undisciplined that it upset him. Her coordination with her summons was awful. He was only being pushed back by their sheer individual power.
He knew about summoner classes—that they were always wildly unpredictable. Their power didn’t depend on their own strength, but on whatever they commanded. A weak peasant could rival a high-level noble if they got lucky and controlled a divine beast.
And this?
This wasn’t luck.
Whatever these skeletal monsters were, they weren’t normal summons. They were too powerful. Too resilient.
Elias didn’t know much about necromancers, but he could only assume—she had found and resurrected the corpse of some long-dead War Paragon.
Despicable.
His family was watching. His tutors—some of the finest money could buy—were watching. He had been trained in layered casting, high-tier elemental manipulation, battlefield strategy. And yet, here he was, losing to some hack who wasn’t even using her own power.
His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, his arms shaking from the last impact. His mana reserves were dangerously low. His body ached from dodging and deflecting attacks that should never have landed on him.
He had planned to save it.
His trump card.
It was supposed to be used in the final stage—to secure an overwhelming victory, to make his win undeniable.
But now? He had no choice. If he could make it into the academy, he’d receive a monthly allowance of half a platinum coin, anyway, making up for its cost. He could only hope he could win in the third round of the tournament without this artifact.
His hand shot to his belt, fingers curling around a small, unassuming pendant. The engraved metal was cool to the touch, the shimmering mana crystals embedded within worth more than most fighters in this tournament would ever see in their lifetimes.
An artifact worth four platinum coins.
The effect was immediate. The instant his fingers pressed into the core, a surge of raw mana blasted through his body like a dam breaking open. His mana veins ignited, pulsing with pure arcane power.
Ten percent of his maximum mana restored per second.
For twenty full seconds.
The rush was intoxicating. The sheer density of his restored mana swelled within him, suffocating everything else. His body thrummed with energy, his fatigue washing away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of invincibility.
He stood, eyes flashing with renewed confidence, then ignited his feet with wind magic.
The next blow from the armored skeleton came fast, but Elias was faster.
He dodged cleanly, vanishing in a streak of blurred motion as the massive ice blade slammed into the ground. The impact ruptured the tiles, sending shards of stone flying in all directions.
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He had already repositioned, a dozen meters away, his hands forming another spell circuit. This time, he wouldn’t hold back.
A barrage of flying icicles shot past in front of him—Pell had already adjusted his aim, tracking Elias’ movement, forcing him to stay on the defensive.
But it wouldn’t work. Not this time.
With his pendant active, Elias conjured a full omni-directional barrier. The shards slammed into the shield, their sharp edges shattering on impact, falling uselessly to the ground.
The fight wasn’t over.
And although he preferred to keep far out of reach, Elias was done playing defense.
Numbskull lumbered forward, but Elias kept his distance, forcing it to resort to hurling more tiles—attacks that had become trivial to block or dodge. Its size was imposing, but its sluggishness was downright pathetic. So much so that Elias felt irritation creeping in. What a useless summon.
Mr. Bones charged again, but Elias wasn’t about to let it reach him. Another spell, another counter.
Wind erupted, whipping through the second arena in spiraling currents. The gusts funneled into a single vortex around the armored skeleton. Elias no longer cared about overusing his element—his pendant would absorb whatever excess mana he wasted.
The skeletal fighter’s movements faltered. Its heavy footfalls grew lighter, the force of the wind lifting its massive body. It still touched the ground every few steps, but only briefly. This wasn’t just wind—it was a contained storm, a twisting cyclone strong enough to make even heavy armor weightless.
Elias spotted another tile sailing toward him. Without hesitation, he flicked his wrist and sent Mr. Bones hurtling. A burst of force launched the armored skeleton straight at the larger one.
Mr. Bones didn’t so much fly as he tumbled, rolling and skidding across the ground before colliding with Numbskull in a cacophony of clattering bones and scraping metal. The two became a tangled mess, limbs locking together in an awkward heap.
Mr. Bones scrambled to regain its footing, but Elias was already gone.
Pell’s eyes locked onto the young boy. Oh, no, you don’t!
Elias was dashing straight for Enya, moving like a gust of wind. Pell lunged to intercept, his ice-coated gauntlets reaching for him, but Elias spun left in a blur, slipping just past his grasp.
In the same motion, Elias flared a spell circuit in his palm and unleashed a point-blank burst of fire.
Flames erupted around Pell, melting the ice encasing him and momentarily obscuring his vision. He gritted his teeth, thrashing his arms to swat away the lingering embers. “You little—”
By the time he cleared his sight, Elias was already gone, sprinting past him, closing the distance toward Enya.
She caught the shift in tactics immediately and reacted. Her boots, enhanced with agility, propelled her into motion. She was no longer sluggish from Rose’s spores. Time stretched in her perception, every detail sharp.
She ran.
Weaving along the perimeter of the arena, she tried to circle back toward her entangled skeletons, hoping to use them as cover. Her mana reserves were nearly empty, and her Soul-Energy was dwindling—bone spears were no longer an option. Whatever she had left had to be conserved to maintain the Gravecaller’s Band’s reinforcement on her minions.
But Elias wasn’t done.
He reached into his robe and tore open a talisman.
Enya’s senses flared.
A brief scan revealed the truth—his robes concealed dozens of talismans, each marked with a different design. The one he had just activated took effect immediately.
For a heartbeat, nothing seemed to change.
Then, his speed doubled.
Even with Absolute Focus active, even with time stretched and slowed—she couldn’t make herself move faster.
The ground trembled beneath Enya’s feet. Then, it caved.
Another pit, just like the one he had used on Numbskull. The moment she felt herself sinking, she kicked off with everything she had, launching herself upward.
She barely landed before Elias slammed his hands against the tiles.
A dome of earth rose around him, thick and impenetrable, swallowing him from sight. In an instant, he vanished within.
A sharp, crackling laugh rang across the arena—then a shattering force cut through the air.
A sword of ice streaked forward, aimed directly at the dome. Mr. Bones’ signature attack, moving with immense force.
The impact was explosive.
A massive detonation ripped through the arena, carving out a cone-shaped blast of destruction. The frozen blade shattered upon impact, rupturing the tiles, sending debris flying in all directions like ripples from a stone striking water.
Enya kept running, extending her senses, even though the explosion rattled her balance. Where—
She reached the other side of the dome and stopped.
Elias was gone.
No mana. No presence. The rubble where he had been standing was empty. What? A wave of confusion hit her like a crashing tide.
He had simply vanished.
Pell and her minions felt her uncertainty ripple through the link. All three turned, scanning the arena, searching.
Enya gritted her teeth and squinted, focusing deeper. Her sensory field wasn’t picking him up—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find him. She searched for his mana signature, scanning the battlefield in careful sweeps.
Nothing.
Nowhere.
A flicker—just on the edge of her awareness. She turned—or tried to.
A hand settled on top of her head.
Enya froze.
A chill—not from ice, not from magic, but from sheer, paralyzing realization—crept down her spine.
Elias was behind her.
Her mind raced. How?! She had been tracking him, sweeping for his mana, searching everywhere. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there!
Her golden eyes darted upward, just in time to catch the faint, glowing blue hue of a spell activating.
Then—
A cold sensation trickled over her scalp, down her shoulders, soaking through her robes.
A shower of water.
Droplets rolled down her arms, her clothes clinging to her frame as the spell took hold. A smug voice came from behind.
“That’s checkmate.”
“H—Hey!” she whined, huffing as she wiped her dripping bangs out of her eyes. Her pout deepened into a full-on scowl as she stomped in place, lips twisting into an exaggerated frown. “I already took a bath!”
Elias grinned, fingers still resting lightly on her head. He could just pull her crown off and take it, but he wanted to enjoy the victory a little while longer. He pressed down slightly, just enough to mock her height. Another spell, half-formed, was about ready for him to cast.
“How’d you even get behind me?!” she demanded, frustration boiling over as she shook her head like a wet cat.
Elias scoffed. He pulled out a talisman from his robe.
“Presence-Erasing Talisman.” His tone dripped with pure arrogance. “Prevents anyone from detecting me unless they have a powerful enough sensory skill.”
He tilted his head, feigning deep thought.
“And since your eyes were glowing the whole fight, I’m guessing that’s your detection ability?”
A pause. Then, a slow smirk.
“Guess it wasn’t strong enough.”
Enya’s cheeks puffed out. “That’s cheating!” she huffed, arms crossing in stubborn defiance. This was her mistake. Though she had Absolute Focus active, she wasn't actively focusing on Elias' presence. She had become distracted with avoiding his spells, and momentarily relied on her preconception that he was still inside the dome. Simply put, she had lost sight of the true target.
Elias only smirked. “Items are allowed. You even used one yourself, so why complain?” He leaned in slightly, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “So… are you going to give up? I’d rather not fry you.”
A sharp crackle of energy danced between his fingertips. He wanted her to surrender, instead of winning by means of crown retrieval.
Enya didn’t need to turn to know what that meant—he was prepping lightning.
Her pout deepened, shoulders hunching. She stomped her foot again—for emphasis—then let out an exaggerated, theatrical sigh.
“Fine.” Her voice dropped to a sulky mutter. “I gi—”
Before the word could even fully leave her lips, a violet light ignited before her.
The Grim Pullet activated. The pages flipped open on their own, glowing with prepared magic.
Elias’ fingers tensed—his spell circuit flickered, milliseconds from release.
Then—
A hand shot out from Enya’s body.
Not her real hand.
A second Enya—a ghostly, ethereal apparition, pale white and translucent—emerged from within her like a specter peeling away from flesh.
The moment it materialized, Elias’ hand—still resting on her head—went numb. The ghostly girl’s head brushed past his hand.
His concentration shattered.
Enya tried to sprint forward, but her boots were caught on the slipper, wet ground pooled with water. Instead of getting away, she fell forward onto the ground instead with a small shriek.
The ghostly Enya grabbed Elias’ arm. A cold, creeping numbness flooded his veins. Before he could react, the apparition reared back and slammed its fist straight into his gut.
The impact ripped the air from his lungs. His body folded inward, stomach twisting from the sheer force. Vision blurred. Breath gone.
Before he could even recover, the phantom reeled back again, its fist rising toward his face for a second strike.
At the last possible second, Elias managed to pull up a barrier.
The ghost’s fist struck. A ripple of force shimmered across the magical wall, distorting the air around it. But no cracks formed. No damage. Just an eerie silence as the apparition’s glowing eyes locked onto his.
Elias grimaced, one hand gripping his stomach while the other crackled with unstable lightning. His spell was already primed, mana surging, ready to ignite.
Across from him was Enya, lying sprawled in a pool of water, barely moving, her own head slightly turned to stare at what was happening.
The flared mana in Elias’ hand, caused Enya to flinch. She could sense it—the impending doom about to strike in under a second.
The ghostly apparition wasted no time. It launched another punch straight for Elias’ face.
He didn’t flinch. His barrier was still active. Whatever this spell of hers was, it clearly wasn’t as strong as her skeletons.
His confidence, however, was poorly misplaced.
The apparition’s fist phased through the barrier—and clocked him right in the face. Elias’ head snapped back. His badge flashed in warning.
But the damage was already done.
The instant the punch connected, the lightning spell in his palm detonated—wild, uncontrolled, a raw surge of energy bursting outward in all directions.
Electricity ripped through the arena in an indiscriminate arc of chaos.
And Enya?
She felt every bit of it. Still drenched from his earlier spell, the current hit her full force, sending sharp, biting jolts across her entire body.
“ow—Ow—OW—OW!” she squeaked, her body seizing as the electricity danced through her limbs. Her badge flickered wildly, pulsing with rapid bursts of light.
Elias wasn’t spared either—his own lightning snapped back at him, running over his skin in jagged sparks. “Argh—” he shrieked, trying to bite down his own pained cries.
And then—
A rush of movement. Pell, Mr. Bones, and even Numbskull, as slow as he was, charged forward at the sight of the chaotic discharge.
“Nine hells, kid.” Pell muttered as he reached Enya, watching her twitch on the ground like a stunned frog. She barely moved, just lay there, her body limp as she muttered tiny, miserable ‘ow’s under her breath.
Elias, still staggering, prepped another spell. His gaze locked onto the ghostly apparition, which flickered, translucent and white—an odd contrast to its ominous presence.
Then Pell’s voice cut through the moment. “Enough already, kid.”
Elias’ jaw tightened. “What?” His eyes darted to the skeleton, cautious. “You think I’m gonna quit?” His fingers twitched, mana still gathering. “I still have plenty—”
“No, you idiot. You already won.”
Elias hesitated. “—what?” His stance relaxed slightly, confusion creeping in.
Pell only gave him a look, then glanced down at Enya. There. Beneath her, the unmistakable glint of shattered plastic.
Her badge.
It lay beneath her, broken into useless fragments.
Pell sighed, stepping forward. He reached down and gently lifted Enya off the ground.
“Owwww… I can’t… move…” Enya mumbled weakly, her voice soft and pouty. She tried to bury her head into Pell’s arms—even though he wasn’t exactly as comfortable as a pillow.
As Pell straightened with her in his arms, Elias’ eyes finally caught sight of the fractured badge. His spell fizzled out and he stood tall with bated breath.
The announcer’s voice boomed across the coliseum:
“VICTORY on Arena Two! The winners are—Elias Ferris and Rose Allener!”
The crowd erupted, cheers and scattered applause rippling through the stands.
Enya, barely coherent, mumbled something under her breath.
Pell glanced down. “What?”
She pouted, her lips puffing out in a grumble. “Big… fat… noble meanie…”
Pell gave a single chuckle, carrying her toward the oncoming healers who were already climbing the arena steps, stretcher in tow. He glanced over at the other Enya, who was now skipping along with him.
She was completely translucent white, like a congealed mist taken form. He remembered back in the magic association, the shown an example of the spell should’ve been an apparition made of profound darkness. Inner Darkness Apparition, if he recalled correctly.
So why was this one—translucent, white—and pure?
“How the hell did you get even… more creepy?” Pell muttered, though his words were probably too silent for the stunned Enya to hear.
Meanwhile, the announcer continued, shifting the crowd’s attention. “With that explosive match decided, and Elias Ferris and Rose Allener moving onto the third stage, we now turn to Arena Three—our last ongoing battle for the Youngling Division’s rotation!”
The crowd roared, excitement building once more as all eyes turned toward the final fight still raging on.
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