When Thunder's figure appeared in the arena, Headmaster Laurent, who had been holding his breath, finally exhaled in relief.
*Kid, you finally showed up to save the day!*
Laurent's previously humiliated expression shifted instantly. He turned to glance at the middle-aged man sitting beside him, who was grinning smugly.
"Headmaster Laurent, I must say, I admire your students' sense of honor! Truly commendable!" The man smirked, then added, "However, this kind of self-inflicted humiliation is rather pointless. Sometimes, retreating in the face of overwhelming strength is the wiser choice."
"Oh?" Laurent leisurely picked up a fruit from the table and took a bite, eyeing the man sideways. "I think he'll win."
"Hahaha!" The man burst into laughter, even slapping the table theatrically.
*Laugh all you want, you bastard.* Laurent's face twisted in disdain. He'd been enduring this man's mockery since yesterday afternoon, but with his students performing so poorly, he couldn't exactly challenge the guy to a duel. Watching the man laugh so hard his teeth might fall out, Laurent fantasized about smashing a club over his head.
Still, as much as it galled him, he had to admit that Austin Magic and Martial Academy's instructors and students were formidable. Even this middle-aged instructor leading the team was a Great Mage.
"Headmaster Laurent, that's the funniest joke I've heard all day! Especially after witnessing my student's strength firsthand!" The man shook his head, then suddenly turned serious. "What if I told you Andy hasn't even shown his full power yet?"
"Doesn't matter," Laurent retorted. "I guarantee your Andy will be picking his teeth off the floor soon."
The man sneered. "Headmaster Laurent, that's an insult to Austin Academy. I'll be sure to report this to our headmaster when I return."
"Enough of your yapping!" Laurent slammed the table, sending fruit rolling. "If my student loses, I'll strip naked and run through Faelor City!"
Laurent had reached his limit. Before Thunder arrived, he'd swallowed his pride—what else could he do when his students were outmatched? But now that Thunder was here, the headmaster's confidence was unshakable.
The middle-aged man's face twitched. Though he had absolute faith in his student, he hadn't expected Laurent to stake his dignity on this.
*Naked? That's too humiliating.*
Instead, he pursed his lips and said, "If your student wins, I'll give him this staff!"
"Nice piece," Laurent remarked, though whether it was praise or sarcasm was unclear.
The staff *was* impressive—crafted from Starwood, second only to Magic Pattern Wood, and reinforced with rare Mithril by a master alchemist. The result was a staff harder than steel, unscathed by blades.
At its tip sat the core of an eighth-tier Wind Serpent, amplifying the user's magic by 80%.
"Too bad it's wind-attuned. Won't do much for a lightning mage," Laurent muttered. The man pretended not to hear.
---
Down in the arena, when Thunder calmly announced, **"I'll give it a try,"** the furious Faelor students fell silent. Every head turned toward his voice.
That familiar tone, that understated confidence—everyone knew who it was.
After a stunned pause, the crowd erupted in cheers.
"Brother Thunder, you're finally back!"
The welcome was thunderous. On stage, Andy from Austin Academy watched the spectacle with cold indifference.
"Make way! Let Brother Thunder through!" someone shouted. Instantly, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, clearing a path straight to the arena.
Playing along, Thunder nodded graciously and strode forward with his Lightning Class companions, basking in the adulation.
Nearby, Franks slumped on the ground, his handsome face pale, his robes slashed to ribbons. Blood seeped from multiple wounds.
Thunder crouched beside him. "What happened?"
Franks reflexively flicked his hair, then winced and dropped his hand. "He's strong. A wind mage. His elemental control is on another level. Be careful."
"It's just a spar. How'd you get hurt?" Thunder eyed the bloodstains—likely from wind blades.
Franks shook his head weakly. "No magic shields this time. Pure combat. We're inexperienced in real fights. They've done this before—they don't panic."
Normally, academy matches included instructor-shielded barriers, allowing full-force duels without injury. But this was different. Franks' fear of getting hurt had crippled his performance. With more experience, he wouldn't have ended up so battered.
"Don't underestimate him," Franks warned. "He's young but sadistic. He cut me over a dozen times before knocking me out. Could've ended it anytime."
Thunder nodded.
"Hey! You done chatting? Get up here and fight! Or are you just wasting time?" Andy called impatiently.
"Coming." Thunder vaulted onto the stage.
Across from him stood a boy in junior mage robes—no older than thirteen or fourteen. Baby-faced but oozing arrogance, his eyes radiated pure disdain.
"Are you even a mage? Where's your robe?" Andy sneered.
Thunder's original robe had been destroyed in Bretton Forest. Now he wore plain clothes from home.
"Mine got ruined. Haven't replaced it yet."
"You that poor? After this, I'll buy you ten." Andy waved dismissively. "But you *are* a junior mage, right? I don't like bullying weaklings."
"Still technically an apprentice." Thunder hadn't had time to get promoted.
"Pathetic." Andy's voice cracked with scorn.
"Enough talk. I just got back—what are the rules? Don't expect me to go easy just 'cause you're a kid."
Andy grinned. "No need for mercy. Only rule: Fight until one falls off or surrenders."
"Fine. Begin."
The moment Thunder agreed, Andy chanted softly, and a razor-sharp wind blade shot toward him.
*Fast!* Twice as quick as Faelor's wind mages.
Thunder pretended to chant and launched a Palming Thunder—standard procedure this time. The lightning bolt collided with the wind blade, canceling both.
*Whoosh!* Another wind blade followed instantly. Thunder countered again.
Three spell clashes in under four breaths left the audience breathless, but Thunder handled each effortlessly.
"Brother Thunder, fry him crispy!" a girl shouted.
Both combatants knew these were just probes. Andy had his answer: This man's casting speed and control matched his own.
Excitement flickered in Andy's eyes.
A new chant began. Andy's hands danced, conjuring wind blades in rapid succession. The battle escalated violently, the stage now a storm of white slashes and crackling lightning.
Thunder slipped in a few paralyzing lightning nets, trying to catch Andy off-guard, but the boy dodged each with uncanny instinct.
Gradually, Thunder gained the upper hand. His casting speed was unmatched—his "chants" mere theatrics.
Andy, pressured relentlessly, finally gasped out, **"Gale Surge!"**
A second-tier spell shattered three incoming lightning bolts, buying him breathing room.
---
Up in the stands, Laurent gloated. *How the tables have turned!*
"Ah, Andy's so *fierce*. My student's surely doomed," the headmaster taunted, oozing sarcasm.
The middle-aged man shot him a look. "Headmaster Laurent, if I were you, I'd start stripping now. I'm sure Faelor would *love* the show."
Laurent bit back a retort, but unease prickled his spine.
*Why's he so confident?*
Down below, Thunder felt it too.
He was dominating—alternating paralyzing nets, Palming Thunder, and Lightning Strike to keep Andy scrambling. The boy looked ragged, yet Thunder's instincts screamed *danger*.
A well-placed Palming Thunder slipped through Andy's defenses, jolting him. The crowd roared.
Andy staggered, his playful smirk twisting into fury. The more enraged he grew, the sloppier his spells became. Thunder landed more hits, carefully controlling the voltage—enough to scorch skin but not seriously harm.
Faelor's students erupted in cheers.
This was Brother Thunder's true power!
A hero, stepping forth when honor hung by a thread.
Yet Thunder's unease deepened.
Channeling mana to his eyes, he activated **Celestial Vision.**
His golden pupils dilated.
*Holy hell.*
Dozens of condensed wind clusters surrounded him, tethered to Andy. They moved as he moved.
If Andy triggered them, Thunder would be shredded.
*For a spar? Brutal.*
But now Thunder understood: Andy's micro-control surpassed his own. While Thunder trained to compress spells, Andy manipulated ambient wind mid-battle.
Dismissing the vision, Thunder relaxed.
Knowing the trap, he could avoid it—or end this *now*.
Eleven wind clusters. Eleven blades.
Thunder could dodge them all.
Or—
He lunged.
Andy's grin widened. **"Die!"**
Eleven wind blades materialized around Thunder, spinning lethally. The crowd's cheers died in their throats.
This was advanced magic—far beyond junior mages. Even the instructors gaped.
*How?!*
The blades converged—
Thunder's body twisted unnaturally.
And then—
He stood before Andy.
The boy's eyes bulged.
*Impossible! He dodged… all of them?!*
**Will Thunder crush Andy—or will the young prodigy have one last trick?**