The crowd roars as Benjamin slowly walks off the stage, disappearing into the dim corridor of the colosseum. In the shadowed hallway, Mathew stands before him, a strange aura radiating from his body.
"That killflow of yours—it's truly something," Mathew says, the words leaking from a snarky smirk.
"I would've been very disappointed if it was some basic copy of some pre existing style."
The faint light creeping from the far end of the corridor gradually reveals him—his hair more rugged now, his standard leather armor worn and damaged.
"Pleasure seeing you here," Benjamin replies, clear enthusiasm on his face.
"I'm looking forward to your performance. And besides—I'm the best. Of course I'd be special."
He strides past Mathew, vanishing into the shadows—
but not before Mathew adds one last line:
"Wait for me at the top, bastard."
Mathew marches toward the light as the crowd erupts once again.
"And for our second and final fixture of the day: Mathew Strauthman vs. Kessia Draconlin!"
The battlefield that Benjamin and Helar had fought on shifts, the platform expanding. Pillars erupt from the ground as rocks and sand fade, revealing a grander arena.
"That's one of your students, right?" Charles asks Edric.
"Yeah—and the best at that," Edric says with a smirk.
"He's something else, I'll tell you that. A beast in human form."
"Sadly, he's up against Kessia. There's no hope for him," Charles mocks.
"I guess we shall see," Miseria interjects.
"Hm," Lilith grunts.
"It seems she has arrived," Charles says with a knowing smirk.
The air thickens. The crowd goes quiet. Spectators' hair stands on edge as static builds and wind stirs.
Kessia has arrived.
"Quite the theatrics," Mathew says.
"Entertained?" Kessia replies as she descends onto the stage, her movements laced with exaggerated elegance.
"Barely," Mathew scoffs, leaping up to meet her.
"Do you really think someone with your fighting style can truly defeat a mage of my level?" she taunts.
"You say that like you're in any way above me," Mathew retorts, arrogance in every word.
Kessia grits her teeth. The static around her intensifies—audible now in her mounting anger.
"We shall see," she hisses, trying to maintain her composure.
They stare each other down before the fight begins, tension humming in the air like the calm before a storm.
"Combatants, you may begin!" the announcer shouts.
Kessia raises her staff high, lightning crackling along its edges as her voice rings with clarity.
"Stormborn charge, from sky to soul—Arc Surge!"
Electric arcs burst from her staff and race across the ground toward Mathew. He narrows his eyes and pivots gracefully, sidestepping the main bolt while blocking a secondary spark with the flat of his blade.
"Too predictable," he mutters.
He slowly edges to the side while locking eyes with Kessia.
"Aren't you going to attack?" Mathew taunts.
"As if. You're practically baiting a counter," she replies, silently gathering mana.
There's something different about her attacks, Mathew thinks as he creeps toward one of the pillars. Her mana reserves aren't depleting the way they should. It's like she's casting without cost.
"I assume you've realized," Kessia says, slowly pointing her staff at him, a malicious smile curving her lips.
"She was the first to get the hang of it—even before Lelovia," Miseria comments from the stands.
"Background mana harvesting. If used properly, a mage could hypothetically fight for days—if not weeks—on end."
"Among all the apprentice mages I've seen… she's definitely one of the best," she continues.
Back in the arena, Kessia waves her staff. A temple of stone rises from the ground beneath her.
"If this becomes a battle of attrition, you've already lost."
"I knew it. She's using the same principle as Miseria—drawing from the mana around her instead of within." Mathew's brow tightens.
"There's always a cost," he says aloud. "Manipulating ambient mana lowers the amount you exude, sure—but you still exude mana."
"What difference does it make?" Kessia smirks, then launches the pyramid she had constructed toward him.
He narrowly evades it, but the pyramid crashes through the nearby pillar, and the debris forces him forward—straight toward her.
"Begone!" Kessia shouts, launching a strong gust of wind that slams Mathew back into a pillar.
"Gagh!" he grunts as his back hits hard. But he quickly recovers, climbing to the top of the now-damaged pillar and standing tall.
"Where's that confidence gone? You look so worried," Kessia laughs.
"I have another trick I want to show you," she says as she begins to rise into the air.
"Here it comes—her dual casting," Miseria remarks.
"The fight's over," Lilith says flatly.
"Don't count Mathew out yet," Edric notes.
"Mathew," Kessia calls, "do you know of Coarze the Trickster?"
"Can't say I do."
"He became famous for his illusions. His most notable feat was object duplication—but he could only maintain the copies for about a minute. The mana cost was too great."
Her eyes glaze slightly as a brilliant light pulses from her staff. A wicked smile curls her lips.
"But with background mana harvesting, that limit no longer exists."
She chants:
"Break and reform,
Dual Scepter of Coarze—Duplicate."
A sharp surge of mana explodes outward. A second staff forms in her hand, perfectly mirroring the first.
"With this method, the retention rate can be extended far beyond a few minutes."
The crowd roars.
"There's no way…" Mathew thinks. Such high-level spells—if she's this powerful, what about Lelovia?
"Now the true battle begins!" Kessia declares, sending the duplicate staff forward. It casts in tandem with the original, a relentless onslaught of lightning and arcane force. Mathew narrowly avoids each burst.
"How long can you last?" Kessia laughs, raising her staff. Bolts of thunder rain from the sky.
"So this is the level of Miseria's students?" Mathew mutters.
"Pretty disappointing." He smirks—and throws his blade at Kessia's staff.
The sword strikes the core crystal embedded in the staff. It cracks, then shatters—her spellwork flickers and fades.
"I told you," Edric smiles from the stands.
Kessia falls to the ground in awe as Mathew steps forward, victorious.
"Give up," he demands.
"Never," Kessia growls. "If I have to cast with my very hands, then so be it."
"Okay then," Mathew responds coolly.
He dashes forward, fists raised.
Kessia meets him with hands coated in mana, grunting as they clash.
"If you thought breaking my staff would be enough to stop me, then you're sorely mistaken," she challenges.
"No," Mathew replies. "I don't think I can defeat you—I know I can."
He fakes a follow-up strike, forcing her guard high—then slips to her side, landing a swift punch to her jaw. She stumbles back, but recovers quickly, lightning dancing in her palm.
"Let's see you think your way out of this—Scatter Volt!"
A web of lightning crackles outward in all directions.
Mathew drops low and rolls beneath it, emerging with a blow aimed at her arms. She narrowly pulls them back.
"I studied your style," he says. "Broad arcs. Wide bursts. Power over precision. You're efficient—but reckless."
Kessia scowls, then lifts her arms for a chant:
"Strike from the storm, swift and unseen—Flashbind!"
A burst of light erupts in Mathew's face, blinding him. Kessia takes the opening, landing a bolt square in his shoulder.
He staggers, gritting his teeth.
"She's turning the tide," Miseria leans forward.
"She's clever," Charles nods. "But I don't think Mathew's shown his full hand."
"You were always a smart one," Edric smirks.
In the ring, Mathew exhales and drops his shoulders.
"Brute force was never my strong suit. So I won't rely on it."
He shifts into a relaxed, open stance.
"Yes! Bow to me!" Kessia says, surprised.
"No," he replies. "I'm changing the game."
Visibly annoyed, Kessia narrows her eyes.
"Thunder Chain!"
A series of connected lightning bolts whip toward him.
Mathew doesn't flee. Instead, he weaves between the arcs, guiding his body with precise timing—grazing danger but never struck.
Her attacks are almost militant, he thinks. They follow a rigid structure.
He suddenly closes the gap and lands a few choreographed blows.
A pulse shudders through Kessia's body.
"You—!" she gasps. The mana surrounding her wavers, as if tamed.
"Only works once," Mathew admits. "But once is all I need."
Kessia pulls back, scowling. "I won't allow that! Storm Spiral!" She strains, forcing the depleted mana in her body out
She lifts her arms, summoning a vortex of lightning that whirls around her and lashes outward.
Mathew's eyes focus sharply. He tosses a small chunk of debris at her forehead.
The hit is light—but it shakes her focus.
The spell falters.
Kessia gasps, losing control just for a moment.
In that breath of time, Mathew rushes forward—not with brute force, but with a clean, pressure-point strike to her chest.
Kessia's body seizes. She crumples to her knees.
Mathew steps back. No finishing blow. Just calm words:
"You're powerful. But you need more than power to win."
Kessia breathes heavily, sweat clinging to her brow. After a moment of silence, she closes her eyes and bows her head.
"…I yield," she says quietly.
A beat of silence follows—then the announcer's voice rises above the crowd:
"The winner of this battle—Mathew Strauthman!"