Enya kept her gaze fixed on Marybelle, but it wasn’t easy. Something about her presence made it harder to focus. Was it a skill? An artifact? Or perhaps some enchantment? No matter how hard Enya tried, her vision of Marybelle kept shifting, like trying to stare through water. Every time she blinked, her opponent seemed to blur and fade just slightly, as if the world itself was conspiring to obscure her. It was disorienting, to say the least.

  Enya wasn’t used to being out of control of her own senses. She had multiple skills honed for perception, and her entire class was built on seeing beyond the obvious, on revealing truths hidden beneath layers. Yet, Marybelle’s presence bent the very air around her in a way Enya couldn’t understand. Something was off, and it didn’t sit well.

  The announcer’s voice rang out, breaking Enya’s focus.

  “Fighters ready?”

  Enya’s fingers twitched, drawing on the familiar, comforting rhythm of summoning. The mana within her flared to life, swirling around her like a living thing. It surged through the circuit she’d already started to weave, quick and responsive, eager to obey her command.

  “Begin!”

  Enya wasted no time. She finished the spell circuit in an instant, ready to unleash the spell. However, right as she was about to invoke it—

  Whoosh!

  A blur of motion. Before Enya could activate her spell, Marybelle was upon her, a shadow materializing from nowhere, her right arm already wound back, dagger poised to strike.

  Instinctively, Enya barely managed to raise her arms in time, the magic embedded in her gloves flaring to life. Her mana drained sharply, feeding into the barrier, creating a circular shield just in time to intercept the blow. The moment the dagger made contact, a shockwave of force erupted, sending Enya crashing backward.

  The tournament badge, designed to absorb and nullify fatal damage, buzzed lightly in response. But the announcer had made it clear—blunt force and impacts would still be felt. And Enya certainly felt it.

  Enya groaned as the force of the strike sent her tumbling; she continued the roll to absorb the momentum, until she slowly came to a stop. Enya pushed herself onto her side, eyes snapping back to Marybelle. There, casually twirling her dagger between her fingers, Marybelle stood, a smirk on her lips as she stared back at Enya. Her movements were impossibly fast, as if her very presence was slipping through the cracks of reality itself. Even her strike was strong. Strong enough to knock Enya backward and rolling several feet away. It seemed almost contradictory for her to be that strong.

  Is this what blinking and teleporting is like? Enya thought. That is so cheating…

  Enya gritted her teeth, pushing herself up onto her elbows before staggering to her feet. She was getting real tired of people and monsters knocking her around. She had already been plastered against the floor multiple times back in Sable’s dungeon. Being knocked to the ground hurt.

  Alright. That’s how it’s going to be?

  Fine.

  She’d play along.

  Enya stood straight, and instantly formed her summoning spell. In front of her, she summoned Fred. He appeared in an instant without delay.

  Name: Fred

  Level: 13

  Type: Soul-Forged Humanoid Skeleton

  Class: Unassigned

  Power Rating: 791

  He stood in a defensive position, just a couple of feet in front of Enya, ready to intercept the opponent in front of him. Although he welded no sword right now, his power rating was high—much higher than that of Stupidface when she had resurrected it back in the dungeon. Fred being a higher level, and Soul-Forged, made him a formidable defender.

  Gasps rippled through the audience like a stone dropped into still water. Murmurs quickly followed, spreading across the stands.

  “She’s a necromancer!” someone whispered, their voice barely audible over the growing buzz.

  “I knew it. Look at that—she summoned a skeleton! Right in the middle of the arena!” another spectator said, leaning forward with wide eyes.

  Even the Ferris nobles, who had been mostly dismissive of Enya before, began exchanging looks. Lady Ferris herself folded her arms, her expression unreadable as she watched the fight unfold.

  In the noble section, Lord Ferris leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied Fred. “So it’s true,” he said, his voice low but carrying a note of fascination. “She is a necromancer.”

  Lady Ferris’s lips tightened, her expression a mix of disapproval and intrigue. “I can’t believe it. A child, practicing such arts. How… inappropriate.”

  Hestrel, however, seemed unfazed. If anything, his smile widened. “Well, this just got a lot more interesting,” he said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “A necromancer in the Youngling division.”

  Lord Ferris shook his head, his gaze never leaving the stage. “Necromancy is a foul, ungraceful art, and a dangerous power. To see it wielded by someone so young… This is unprecedented.”

  Hestrel chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “That’s not even the best part.”

  Harland looked to Hestrel, waiting for him to continue.

  With a smile on his face, Hestrel’s gaze slowly shifted over to a specific woman standing off to the side inside the arena. A group of healers were allocated there, in case of any emergencies. “We have a healer in this city, Lady Celeste, who is a prominent member of the Sanctity of Order.”

  Lord Ferris nodded and turned back to the arena. “Indeed. The Sanctity of Order is quite strict on things like this, no? I’ve heard they do their best to eradicate demons and the like, but I can certainly believe necromancers are among those on their list of enemies.”

  Back in the arena, Marybelle’s stance stiffened for just a second. Her smirk faltered, replaced by a look of surprise as Fred materialized in front of Enya. But she quickly recovered, her expression hardening into one of focused determination.

  Enya, meanwhile, stood tall behind Fred, her gaze steady despite the chaos around her. She could feel the weight of the crowd’s stares, their shock and curiosity exploding all around her. But she ignored it. There was a match to win, and she couldn’t afford any distractions.

  The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena, cutting through the murmurs. “It seems our young competitor, Enya Meltere, has quite the trick up her sleeve! A summoned skeleton! This match just got a whole lot more exciting!”

  The crowd’s murmurs turned into cheers and shouts, their excitement reignited by the announcer.

  Back on the stage, Enya took a deep breath, her fingers twitching slightly as she prepared her next move. She didn’t want to summon everyone or show off all of her abilities so soon. If the others were like her, they would be watching the matches, seeing what everyone was capable of. For now, Enya channeled mana, readying to summon another minion.

  Marybelle, however, didn’t wait. With a flicker of movement, she vanished again, her form blurring as she used her blinking ability to reposition herself. But this time, Enya was ready.

  “Fred, intercept!” Enya commanded, her voice firm.

  He reacted instantly. He stood his ground, swinging an arm in a wide arc to intercept Marybelle’s approach. Although Enya couldn’t see Marybelle, she could at least take a gamble on where she was going to appear again—directly to her left, prepped with a slashing motion.

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  Just like Enya predicted—more-so, guessed—Marybelle popped into existence on her left. Fred’s hammer-like swing came rushing toward her. However, her reactions were insanely quick. Marybelle twisted mid-step, shifting her weight in an impossible maneuver, ducking just under Fred’s sweeping strike.

  One major advantage Fred provided was his sheer size. While he wasn’t as tall as Numbskull, he still stood at adult height. Compared to Enya and Marybelle—both still children—Fred towered over them. So, even though Marybelle managed to breach their space and evade his attack, she couldn’t strike Enya directly with such a large skeleton blocking the way. However, if she simply cut him down, landing a quick follow-up stab would be easy.

  At least, that’s what she thought.

  Marybelle’s gaze snapped from Enya to the skeleton. She spun quickly, dagger flashing in the sunlight as she slashed—

  Clang!

  A pulse of energy flared as her blade struck Fred’s reinforced bones. The dagger hit the side of his upper rib, just beneath his arm—but instead of slicing through, it rebounded with a harsh metallic ring. Marybelle was forced back, her feet skidding across the stone floor.

  Fred hadn’t moved an inch.

  Marybelle’s eyes narrowed, her composed demeanor cracking ever so slightly. She swiftly retreated, widening the distance between them.

  Enya smirked. “Not so easy to cut through soul-forged bone, huh?”

  Marybelle didn’t respond. Instead, she adjusted her stance, crouching lower. Her free hand subtly drifted toward one of the pouches on her belt.

  Enya caught the movement. Was it a distraction? A hidden weapon? Maybe a throwing dagger? Assassins typically relied on either precise stabs, throwable knives, or poison. Marybelle had the look of the dagger-wielding assassin Enya had read about in countless books.

  But Enya wasn’t about to let her control the pace any longer.

  She had noticed something important about Marybelle’s teleportation strikes—she had to wind up her attack the moment she blinked. Her momentum didn’t carry through the teleport, meaning she had to restart it entirely upon arrival. That explained why Enya had been knocked back by the first strike and why Marybelle hadn’t simply teleported with a dagger already buried in her ribs.

  A slow, steady exhale left Enya’s lips as she focused. Her eyes gleamed, turning a sharp yellow as the world around her seemed to slow. Every detail sharpened, every movement became clearer.

  If she could react fast enough—just enough to dodge the instant Marybelle attacked after she blinked—then her gimmick would be useless. That was, unless if she could teleport behind Enya. But considering that she blinked in front of her just now, maybe that wasn’t possible. However, Enya saved the thought of that possibility in the back of her mind, ready to duck or throw herself forward if Marybelle completely disappeared with no trace.

  Marybelle flicked her wrist, pulling a small dagger from her pouch. Enya’s response was instant—another summoning.

  Name: Uglyface

  Level: 13

  Type: Repulsive Soul-Forged Quadruped Skeleton

  Class: Unassigned

  Power Rating: 521

  ”Oh, folks! It looks like we’re getting another summon on arena one! What is Enya about to—oh dear gods! What is that thing!” the announcer shouted.

  A good majority of people were already focused on the first arena’s battle—however, after the announcer’s commentary, now almost the entire stadium was watching them.

  Up in the crowds, folks could be seen muttering and talking about the new development.

  “Honey, I’m scared. Is… is that a rat with a stretched-out human skull?” one woman asked, clutching her husband’s arm.

  “Why does that mouse have a human ribcage?” a man muttered, his face pale.

  “That is horrifying! Are those human hands? Did she kill people to get those?!” another spectator exclaimed, their voice trembling.

  Back on stage, Enya sent a mental command through her bond.

  Charge at her, Uglyface!

  The command surged through their connection, and Uglyface responded instantly. The grotesque skeleton let out a rattling snarl, its bones creaking as it lunged forward, its mismatched limbs propelling it toward Marybelle with extreme speed.

  Marybelle was momentarily taken aback by the horrendous creature charging at her, but her composure snapped back into place almost immediately. She gripped the dagger in her hand tightly, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation.

  In a swift motion, Marybelle threw the dagger—not at Enya, but at an angle, off to the side of the arena.

  “What?” Enya muttered, her gaze flicking to the dagger. Did she miss by accident? At that angle, the dagger would only hit the arena walls dozens of feet behind her.

  But before Enya could dwell on it, Marybelle vanished, causing Uglyface to tackle and bite thin air as it reached her.

  Enya could faintly see the path of mana exuding from her. A straight, thin line of blue energy flickered briefly in the air—a telltale sign of teleportation. With absolute focus activated, her perception sharpened enough to catch the trajectory of mana, even if she couldn’t detect Marybelle herself.

  Ignoring the odd dagger throw, Enya turned to the right, sending another command to her minions.

  Fred, right! Uglyface, come back!

  The thoughts shot out, and Fred reacted instantly, pushing off his left leg, right arm wound back and poised to strike.

  As Enya predicted, Marybelle reappeared to her right, her dagger arm retracted, about to thrust forward in a deadly stab. In that split moment, Fred intercepted, blocking the blow with his arm and ribcage, causing the strike to fumble against his frame. He let his punch fly forward, but Marybelle twisted her body, dodging the blow entirely.

  Then Enya noticed something unsettling—a subtle shift in Marybelle’s expression. It wasn’t frustration or irritation at being blocked. No—it was triumph.

  A sharp disturbance prickled at Enya’s mind.

  With absolute focus, her perception formed a sensory field around her, like an invisible barrier. Anything that moved or intruded upon it, she could sense instantly. She could also extend and manipulate this field, slingshotting it like an arrow or expanding it like a balloon. Right now, however, it was in its idle state—a few feet wide, surrounding her.

  So when Enya felt the disturbance—a quick, darting warning of danger from behind—her thoughts scrambled.

  Marybelle pulled her dagger back and hopped backward in quick, fluid steps, retreating several feet at once. Simultaneously, a piercing force struck Enya’s back.

  “Ah!” Enya yelped, stumbling forward. She whipped around, her eyes locking onto the fallen dagger—the same one Marybelle had thrown earlier. Enya’s tournament badge flashed brightly, signaling the absorption of damage, but the force of the impact still stung, like she just fell onto a sharp rock.

  How had the dagger hit her? It had been thrown at such a terrible angle. Was it a trick? Had it curved mid-air? Or had it teleported? Enya’s thoughts all came crashing into one another in her mind as she tried to come up with adequate reasoning for what had happened.

  No, that couldn’t be it, she thought. If it had teleported, Marybelle could have just tossed dozens of daggers at her, blinking them right next to her and ending the fight instantly. If the dagger had blinked using Marybelle’s teleportation ability, it would have been bound by the same momentum-resetting restriction as her own movements. It would have simply just appeared before her, and fell onto the ground instantly.

  Whipping her gaze back to Marybelle, Enya met the child assassin’s cruel smirk.

  “Honestly, if you wore armor, that dagger wouldn’t have done much,” Marybelle sneered. “Goes to show how stupid nobles are when they’re too busy looking down on others.”

  There was something about the way she spoke that made it clear she truly believed her own words. Perhaps a noble had wronged her in the past. After all, Enya hadn’t done anything to deserve such a spiteful response from a girl she had just met.

  “Fine,” Enya said, a spell circle forming above her right palm. “I’ll take this seriously now, you stupid cheater!” Enya sent out a nonverbal command to both Fred and Uglyface, prepping them for what was about to come.

  She had spent most of her mana and Soul-Energy forming her minions and preparing the spell inside the Grim Pullet. That meant she didn’t have much left for other spells, like bone spears. At most, she could afford a few mid-strength ones—or just a couple at full power.

  Marybelle reached into her pouch again, pulling out another dagger. Like before, she aimed off to the side and threw it.

  Enya’s sensory field burst forth, expanding to cover the entire arena. She sensed the force and trajectory of the dagger. As expected, it was flying straight, and in a few seconds, it would crash into the arena wall. But she wasn’t naive. Something strange was happening, and she wouldn’t assume it was a normal throw like last time.

  Once more, Marybelle’s form flickered and vanished. The same trail of mana appeared in Enya’s sensory field. This time, she predicted she would reappear to her left.

  Fred, left!

  Fred responded instantly, shifting to intercept.

  That was when Enya felt it—the change in the dagger. A burst of mana radiated from it, and in that moment, she realized what was happening.

  Luckily, she had a minion already in position.

  Marybelle flashed back into view, her strike blocked once again by Fred. That same smirk curled on her lips, as if she barely cared that her attack had been stopped.

  “Checkmate, noble!” she spat, eyes flicking past Enya.

  Behind her, the dagger had curved in the air, propelled by mana, and was now streaking straight toward Enya’s blind spot.

  But that was only her human blind spot.

  Her absolute focus made it so she was practically omniscient, aware of everything within the arena’s boundaries. But that wasn’t all. Through her bond, Enya shared a portion of her senses with her minions.

  This time, Enya smiled back at Marybelle, never breaking eye contact.

  Although its power rating was much lower than her other minions, one thing set it apart—something none of the others could match.

  Speed.

  “Fetch!” shouted Enya’s voice, eyes never leaving Marybelle’s.

  The dagger was mere feet away, barely a second from striking.

  Then came the sound of scuttling—rapid, bone-cracking footsteps echoing across the arena.

  In a split second, Uglyface launched into the air, its monstrous skeletal frame twisting as it caught the dagger in its mouth.

  Marybelle’s gaze faltered, her eyes widening as she watched the monstrous skeletal rat intercept her dagger mid-flight.

  “Don’t look away!” came the annoying voice of the girl in front of her.

  The words snapped the assassin’s attention back to Enya—only to find her smirking.

  Then the ground rumbled.

  Marybelle’s gaze snapped downward just in time to see the arena floor crack. Something sharp and white burst from below, surging toward her.

  She tried to leap back—only to find herself frozen in place.

  A skeletal hand clamped down on her arm, locking her movements.

  The last thing she heard—

  “Checkers, commoner!” Enya exclaimed, playing along. “Bone spear!”