Reincarnation of the magicless Pinoy!
From zero to hero! (Volume 2)
" No magic? No Problem!"
Encounter 6 : The Magicless Protege!
The sun dipped low by the time the final bouts ended. The crowd had started to disperse, but the tension in the arena still lingered, thick as ever. Bruised, battered, and bloodied, the combatants stood near the tournament board, breath held in anticipation.
A drumroll of murmurs spread as the final bracket was displayed—magic ink scrawling the names across the sky-scribed parchment.
Finals List:
Luke Arcadia vs Ayden trask
Third princess Sophia vs Gregor Cain
Rolien Edric vs Brand Solheim
The murmurs became a wave of protest.
"What? That doesn't make sense—Serena already fought!"
"Didn't Brand lose earlier?!"
"They're just shuffling it now?!"
It didn't take long for the more politically aware students to connect the dots. This wasn't random.
It was a setup.
"They're trying to make sure Luke has the cleanest path to the finals," someone whispered. "Keeping the stronger opponents apart until they're worn out…"
Rolien squinted at the list, unimpressed.
"Tch. Twisted bastard," he muttered under his breath, already suspecting the Crown Prince's hand in this mess.
Leto crossed his arms, clearly irritated. "Looks like they want to exhaust you, bruh. Make you fight two of the toughest back-to-back."
Rolien simply shrugged, calm and collected. "Let them try. I'll beat them anyway. I'll slap them with their own game."
Sophia gave him a sideways glance. "Scoff. As expected from my—uh… I mean, from a friend." She turned away, ears red.
Leto and Mira exchanged a look. Then both burst out laughing.
"You heard that, right?" Mira grinned, elbowing Leto.
"Crystal clear," Leto smirked.
Sophia rolled her eyes but smiled as she turned to walk ahead.
The group broke off for the night, heading back to their dorms. No more joking now.
Tomorrow wasn't just about pride.
It was war.
The Next Day — Arena Grounds
The sky was mercilessly clear.
No clouds. No breeze. Just the sun, glaring down like an eye of judgment.
The stands were packed again, louder than ever. Nobles, knights, students, and even foreign guests filled the arena, eager to witness the final day of the academy tournament.
Magic sigils hummed around the coliseum's edges, amplifying the sounds and reinforcing the battlefield.
But down below, the air felt still—like the calm before a storm.
Serena Vaux stood alone, her twin blades resting on her hips, one black as night, the other gleaming silver. Her eyes were fixed on the center platform, where Rolien Edric waited.
No pomp. No long introductions. No grand speech.
Just two names.
A single judge raised his hand, voice carrying across the arena.
"Match: Rolien Edric versus Serena Vaux! Begin on signal!"
Serena stepped forward, expression unreadable. "So… it really came to this."
Rolien stood casually, arms loose, posture relaxed. "Yeah. Guess it did."
She unsheathed both swords with a fluid motion. "I won't hold back."
"I'd be insulted if you did," Rolien replied, cracking his knuckles. "Come at me."
The signal dropped.
And Serena moved like lightning.
Her dual blades whirled like wind and steel, crossing in a scissor-strike aimed at Rolien's neck.
CLANG!
A metallic burst echoed out as Rolien's forearm met her blades, his skin now hardened—like tempered steel beneath flesh.
A faint shimmer ran across his veins, glowing pale blue.
Hollowveil Force: Activated.
His body moved unnaturally fast now, enhanced not by magic, but by the raw will of his spirit core. His steps cracked the stone beneath as he weaved around her flurry, arms tucked tight, movements precise—like a trained boxer fighting a swordswoman.
"Your form got sharper," he muttered, ducking a horizontal slash and catching her wrist mid-swing.
"But not sharp enough."
He twisted, yanking her into his elbow—wham!—then spun behind her and launched a roundhouse kick.
Serena grunted as the blow landed, staggering, but she recovered fast—planting her feet and digging one blade into the ground to pivot herself into a rising slash with her silver sword.
Meanwhile, in the general audience:
"That kid… He's fighting a Vaux. That family's known for their blade arts and elemental weaving."
"And he's holding his own—with no magic?"
"No magic. That's the Edric family's youngest… the so-called 'magicless prodigy.' I thought that was just a nickname."
"He's actually… impressive."
A younger student clutched their notebook tightly.
"He calculated that sidestep before she even finished casting."
"He's fighting like a tactician, not a duelist. Look at his footwork—it's military. Close-quarters drills, combat feints, battlefield positioning. This is war, not a duel."
Back at the arena.
A shallow cut danced across Rolien's cheek, blood flicking in the air.
"You're faster too," she said, breathing hard.
He wiped the blood with a thumb, then cracked his neck. "You haven't seen fast yet."
He rushed her—no, disappeared from her vision for a heartbeat.
Serena crossed her blades just in time as Rolien appeared inches from her, arm cocked.
Boom!
The punch landed against her guard, and she flew backward, skidding across the arena floor.
Dust rose.
She coughed, rolling back to her feet, blades trembling—but her eyes… they sparkled.
"I've been waiting for this," she said. "Ever since that day. The day you stood up to Luke Arcadia."
Rolien's eyes narrowed.
Her grip tightened on her blades. "You're the reason I stopped pretending. That I started fighting back."
She charged again—this time spinning mid-dash, her blades forming a storm of slashes. Rolien stepped in, bobbing and weaving between the arcs, redirecting her strikes with minimal motion.
He stepped on her shadow mid-spin, halting her momentum—and brought down a hammer-fist on her shoulder.
Thud!
She fell to one knee, gasping.
But still, she didn't stop.
Rolien could see it in her eyes: defiance, pride, and something else—something old. A wound that had never closed.
"You're strong," she whispered, lifting her head. "But I have my reasons too."
A spark of magic suddenly flared around her blades—not from her, but from the engraved gemstones embedded in the hilt.
"Time to stop holding back!"
She launched into her true style—Vaux Family Dual Blade Form: Wild Bloom.
Each movement became unpredictable—slashes like flower petals in the wind, dancing in patterns that weren't made to be read.
Rolien gritted his teeth, his Hollowveil Force straining. His body could enhance itself, but not forever.
"Fine," he muttered. "Let's finish this."
He lowered his stance, left foot forward—his whole body shifting into an aggressive close-quarter style.
Edric Knight Form: Iron Fang.
It was a brutal, no-nonsense martial form passed down in the Edric family—pure, vicious hand-to-hand built to dismantle even mages in close range.
And now, fists met blades in a thunderous clash of talent, instinct, and spirit.
Steel sang. Bones groaned. The crowd held its breath.
And beneath it all—two souls clashed.
Not enemies.
In the nobles' section, the mood shifted.
"He's dangerous."
"Not because of raw power—but because of that brain."
"And that prosthetic arm… that's not just a tool. That's a weapon."
A few commoner students, once skeptical, now cheered his name.
"Rolien! You can do it!"
"Show them magicless doesn't mean helpless!"
Even Mira and Sophia, watching from their reserved seats, exchanged glances.
"Look at them…" Sophia said quietly, watching the once-indifferent crowd now rallying behind Rolien. "He's turning the whole arena."
Mira grinned. "Guess being underestimated was part of the plan all along."
Back in the arena, Rolien skidded to a stop as Serena gasped for air, her twin blades smoking from the clash.
And as the thunder cracked above the arena and lightning danced along Rolien's arm, he rolled his shoulders and muttered just loud enough for the crowd to catch:
"You thought magic was the only way to fight gods?"
"Let me show you how a human wins."
The cheers rose like a tidal wave.
But two warriors trying to carve out their place in a world that tried to write their roles for them.
Serena dashed forward again, her twin blades slicing arcs through the air—one low, one high. A clean cross. Rolien leaned back just enough for the first to miss, then lifted his right arm to catch the second.
Clang!
Steel rang—not against flesh or armor, but something else. Something heavier.
Something unnatural.
Serena's eyes widened mid-swing. Her blade didn't cut. It bounced.
Rolien didn't flinch. Instead, he drove forward, twisting his arm and locking her blade under it. With one smooth motion, he pivoted and shoved her back, hard.
The crowd let out a stunned gasp as Rolien stepped into the light.
His right sleeve had been torn open during the exchange, and now it hung loose at the shoulder, revealing a gleaming, segmented prosthetic—dark gray metal laced with vibrant cyan veins that pulsed like blood vessels.
It wasn't bulky or crude. It looked sleek. Deadly. Like something out of another era… or another world.
A hushed murmur spread through the stands.
"Is that… his arm?"
"That's not just a prosthetic—that looks like a weapon!"
"I've never seen anything like it…"
Serena slid back, catching her breath, blades up. Her eyes narrowed—not in disgust, but something more like awe.
"You've been holding back," she muttered.
Rolien rolled his shoulder, the faint whirr-click of hidden gears singing beneath the surface. "I was trying to be fair."
The metal fingers flexed. A soft hiss of compressed air escaped as the joints reset, and then a heavy thud followed as he slammed his fist into his palm.
"But you kept pushing."
The crowd leaned forward, breath caught in their throats. The announcers didn't even speak. No one dared interrupt.
Serena grinned despite herself. "Show me what that thing can do, then."
Rolien lowered into stance, the fingers of the metal hand curling into a tight fist—jawbreaker mode engaged. His eyes locked onto hers.
"With pleasure."
Serena lunged first, her right blade sweeping low for his ribs while the left came down in a diagonal slash meant to feint—baiting Rolien into dodging into the real strike.
But Rolien stepped into the attack.
His metallic arm came up, absorbing the blow with a dull, vibrating clang. Sparks jumped as the blade scraped against the reinforced alloy. Serena's eyes widened—again, her blade didn't cut. Not even a scratch. But before she could adjust, Rolien twisted his hips and drove his elbow forward.
She ducked under it, spun, and unleashed a quick slash across his back. But as her foot touched the ground, Rolien swept it with a low kick.
She leapt. In midair, she cast.
"Ignis Twine!"
Her blades ignited, wrapped in swirling trails of red-orange flame. Her momentum changed—now she wasn't falling. She was diving. Twin flaming crescents crashed toward Rolien like a meteor.
He raised his prosthetic and braced.
BOOOOM!
The impact flared across the arena, knocking dust and flame into the air like a bomb went off. The arena trembled slightly. Smoke rose. The audience leaned forward, coughing, squinting.
Then a sound—like a generator spinning to life.
BZZZ-ZZZZT-CHAKK!
Lightning arced across the dust cloud. A deep hum filled the space.
And then—Rolien stepped through it.
Blue electricity danced across the surface of his prosthetic. Glowing lines flared up from his shoulder to his fingertips, pulsing with power. The limb hissed with steam and static. The crowd gasped.
He'd activated the Jawbreaker's crowd control mode.
Serena landed and twisted to look—but too late.
Rolien stomped forward, slammed his fist into the ground—
KA-KRACKOOM!
A pulse of electricity exploded outward from the point of impact, rippling in a wide circular wave. Arcs of lightning snapped across the arena floor like chained snakes. Serena reacted fast, slamming both swords into the ground to anchor herself with a counterspell: "Volt Wall!"
A barrier flickered into place just in time, catching the brunt of the surge—but her footing slipped, her stance broke, and the static still licked across her skin, slowing her movements.
She grimaced. "So that's what that thing can do…"
Rolien didn't speak. He was already moving.
The lightning around his arm hadn't faded. It surged again—now focused—coiled along his fist as he charged. Serena threw her blade up to parry, but this time—
CLANG!
Her sword flew from her hand. The force behind the punch was too much.
Her eyes widened—but she still had one blade. She twisted her wrist, going for a reverse grip thrust toward Rolien's side.
He caught her wrist mid-motion.
The metal fingers clenched with mechanical precision—and a soft click.
Serena felt it immediately. Her sword froze. A magnetic field had locked it in place. The crowd roared.
Rolien's eyes, calm and cold, met hers.
"You're good," he said. "But I'm not a kid anymore."
And then he threw her. A clean judo-style over-the-shoulder toss.
She flipped midair, landed in a three-point stance—but barely. Her breathing was ragged. Her hands shook. Her swords sparked from the lightning discharge.
But she smiled. "That's more like it."
He stepped forward, arm still crackling. The thunder hadn't stopped rolling across the stadium.
Above them, the skies echoed with it.
The duel wasn't over.
But the crowd?
They were on fire.
The air trembled as Serena Vaux swept her left blade in a wide arc, the metal edge igniting with bluish fire—enchanted. Her right blade followed in a feint, aimed for Rolien's flank. She wasn't holding back anymore. The crowd gasped as trails of flame and wind surged from her swords, dancing in vicious spirals as she combined elemental runes with her martial finesse.
Rolien ducked beneath the first strike, twisting his torso just enough for the second to graze past him. Sparks shot from his coat as the blade skidded off the side plating of his prosthetic. Then—
CRACK!
Lightning burst from Rolien's left arm.
Not the kind that flickers and fades—but a controlled, vicious storm arcing from the knuckles and traveling through the floor like veins of living light. His Jawbreaker wasn't just for brute strength. It had crowd control modules—elemental discharge options embedded deep in the core circuitry.
The lightning web spread across the arena floor in an instant. Serena's feet slid back as she threw both blades into a crisscrossed guard, forming a wind barrier just in time. The bolt struck—BOOM!—sending dust and wind howling outward.
The students watching from the stands shielded their eyes.
Serena coughed, armor scorched at the edges, but still standing.
Rolien didn't let up.
Using his Hollowveilforce, he kicked off the ground—his enhanced muscles making the movement blur-fast. He closed the gap, his right hand glowing with spirit force, and threw a downward punch meant to break defenses.
Serena countered, crossing her blades like a wedge and catching the blow—but she winced. Even with reinforcement magic, the shock of the hit traveled down her arms.
Rolien landed, spun on his heel, and launched a high roundhouse kick aimed at her temple.
She ducked.
He pivoted again—this time slamming his prosthetic arm into the ground, releasing another electric surge. This one came in a vertical column—like a rising pillar of lightning.
Serena backflipped mid-air to escape it, her body nimble and practiced.
But Rolien chased her. He grabbed one of the fallen pieces of arena rubble with his real hand, hurled it up—and punched it mid-air with the Jawbreaker. The force of the punch sent stone shrapnel flying like a shotgun blast.
Serena swung both blades, creating a quick arc of wind to deflect the fragments. Still, some grazed her cheek.
Blood trickled.
Her eyes burned with focus. "You're relentless…"
Rolien raised his head slightly, his voice calm but sharp. "And you're holding back."
In response, Serena threw both blades into the air. They hovered for a beat—then spun rapidly as her magic surged. She held her palms out, then slammed them together.
A glyph expanded under her, blue and white, rotating fast—a dual-element burst glyph.
Wind and Ice.
The blades shot down like homing missiles.
Rolien crossed both arms—real and prosthetic—and tanked the first blade. It hit hard enough to push him back a full meter.
The second blade curved around like a whip, aiming from behind.
Without turning, Rolien twisted his prosthetic arm backward—and caught it mid-air by the hilt. The metal fingers of his Jawbreaker snapped shut around the blade's edge. The enchantment tried to resist, crackling with magical backlash, but Rolien's lightning overrode it—sending a surge through the blade and back to Serena.
She gasped, but grounded the spell in time.
They stood across from each other again. Breathing hard. Chests rising.
Then Rolien cracked his neck. His Jawbreaker arm let off a hiss of pressure, and vents along its forearm glowed faint blue.
The crowd was dead silent.
Until someone finally whispered, "That arm… it's not magic. What is that?"
Murmurs rippled. Some students leaned in. Others exchanged nervous glances.
"That's no ordinary prosthetic…"
"Did you see that lightning shot?"
"He grabbed a magic weapon barehanded and countered it…"
From the stands, Luke Arcadia scoffed, arms crossed, eyes locked on Rolien.
"Tch. Show off all you want now. I'll take that smug face off when it's my turn."
Back in the ring, Serena retrieved her blades with a flick of her wrist. "Impressive. But I'm not done."
Rolien rolled his shoulders. "Then let's keep dancing."
The arena rumbled with anticipation again. Round two was just beginning.
Serena moved first.
This time, she didn't rush in recklessly. Her footwork tightened, steps precise, weaving small arcs across the arena floor as sigils flared beneath her boots. She was casting on the move—layering glyphs.
Rolien narrowed his eyes. He recognized this pattern.
She wasn't trying to outfight him anymore.
She was preparing to overwhelm him.
Twin glyphs flared beneath her blades—one wind, one frost—then merged mid-air.
The magic rippled out with a deafening hum. The air temperature dropped fast enough to mist the arena floor. Then—shatter!
Dozens of razor-thin ice shards exploded from the merged sigil, guided by spiraling wind currents—a storm of frozen daggers, all targeting Rolien's vital points with surgical precision.
Serena Vaux's secret art: "Winter Bloom - Fracture Waltz."
The kind of spell that shattered defensive barriers, even magical ones.
Rolien reacted fast—but not blindly. He didn't block. He moved.
His boots exploded off the ground—lightning-charged—Hollowveilforce fully active, his spirit core pushing past its limits. He ducked under the first wave, twisted through the next, and pivoted into a sliding dash across the stone floor, sparks trailing behind.
But it wasn't enough. One shard clipped his shoulder—biting deep.
Blood splattered, hissing against the heated metal of his Jawbreaker.
He grunted, twisting around, planting a palm to halt his momentum—and remembered.
> "When you're cornered… don't try to beat a spellcaster at their own game. Flip the board. Use your world."
Tactics.
Rolien's eyes sharpened.
He reached into the compartment on his belt, pulled a small, cylindrical mag cell glowing with electric current, and jammed it into the side slot of his prosthetic.
CLACK.
The arm whirred.
Jawbreaker Combat Mode: Mag-Ready.
The barrel along his forearm shifted open again—exposing the inner rail of the lightning cannon.
He raised it, pointing toward Serena as she launched forward, blades whirling like hurricane arcs.
She saw the cannon and braced—but her eyes widened when it didn't fire.
Rolien didn't shoot.
He paused.
The lightning surged—ready to unleash—and he hesitated.
> "Don't ever use that beam cannon of yours. Not in the arena. I don't care if you're about to lose—especially not in the arena."
Thorne's warning echoed louder than any roar from the crowd.
Rolien gritted his teeth. He lowered the cannon—cut off the charge—and twisted the mode dial on the side.
Boost Mode: Engaged.
Lightning channeled inward again—into his bones, muscles, tendons.
His body exploded with speed, Hollowveilforce fusing perfectly with the arc energy.
Ten times faster.
Time slowed.
He moved before Serena's blade could reach him.
Crack! He sidestepped and elbowed her wrist, knocking the left sword wide.
Whump! A low roundhouse to her thigh—breaking her stance.
Before she could recover, he slipped in—close, too close for blades—and locked her shoulders.
He whispered near her ear, "Checkmate."
Then rolled forward, throwing her off balance, and used the Jawbreaker's vented palm to deliver a blast of thunder-palm straight to her core.
BOOM.
It launched her back, not violently, but with enough force to disarm and disorient.
Meanwhile
The moment Rolien blurred across the battlefield, boosted by the lightning-enhanced Hollowveilforce, a hush fell over the crowd—right before it burst into a chorus of gasps.
"Did he just—? Was that speed magic?"
"No… no magic circle, no chant."
"That wasn't magic. That was… tech."
A few of the instructors in the upper seats leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Among them sat Headmaster Thorne, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh.
"He used the boost… not the cannon. At least he listened."
Serena hit the ground hard, rolling once before coming to a stop on her knees—blades scattered. She gasped, coughing mist.
The glyphs under her flickered—then shattered into harmless snow.
She tried to rise again—but her legs shook.
Rolien approached slowly, steam rising off his arm, face bloody, expression serious.
She looked up at him, proud eyes still burning.
Then she smiled. "You really held back that shot… Didn't you?"
He nodded, wiping blood from his mouth. "This wasn't the place."
A long beat passed. Then Serena laughed—a tired, breathless laugh.
"Good," she said. "That means I still have a chance next time."
The arena was silent for a heartbeat—then exploded into cheers.
The judge raised a hand. "Match over! Victory: Rolien Edric!"
Students jumped from their seats. Professors murmured with wide eyes. Nobles leaned forward, whispering to aides to find out what kind of tech that was.
But Rolien?
He just extended a hand.
Serena took it, letting him pull her up. "Don't think I won't pay you back for this."
He smirked. "Looking forward to it."
As they walked toward the edge of the arena together, the sun broke through the cloud cover—catching the metallic gleam of Rolien's arm as it powered down.
And up in the stands, Luke Arcadia narrowed his gaze.
"Looks like you just made things interesting, worm."
To be continued...