Erik made his way toward Training Hall Seven.
"Master Erik!" a voice rang out.
He turned. "Oh—Yosul."
"Good morning!" Yosul jogged up beside him, grinning. His eyes gleamed like polished marble, that same infuriating innocence plastered across his face.
"…Yeah. Morning," Erik muttered.
"There's been a slight change," Yosul said.
"A change?"
"Not many rookies left after the first two rounds. From now on… you'll be facing bronze and silver-ranked hunters."
Erik frowned. Bronze he could handle. But silver—one after another? He'd only just clawed his way into silver himself.
At the gate, an old man was already waiting. Tall, with a beard down to his chest, his White Wolf uniform pressed immaculate. His presence was quiet, but heavy.
"Master Erik, allow me to introduce Arch Mage Kruzen Wizdeath," Yosul said.
Erik froze.
An Arch Mage. The pinnacle of mana control.
He bowed quickly. "It's an honor, sir."
"Raise your head, child," the old man said, voice calm but carrying weight. "So you're the one Evalyn keeps talking about…" His eyes scanned Erik. "Hmm. I see why."
Kruzen turned toward the arena. "Let's begin."
"Since you'll be up against silver and bronze ranks—" Yosul began.
"—you should go all out!" Evalyn's voice cut down from the balcony.
Erik looked up sharply. "Wait… don't tell me—"
"Oh, I'm telling you," Evalyn grinned. "You and Kruzen will be linked. He'll feed you mana. As long as you don't blow yourself up, you can use Core Activation as much as you want."
Erik blinked.
They're letting me go all out… with an Arch Mage fueling me?
He gave a slow nod, stepping into the arena.
"I'd appreciate it if you referred to me as 'Arch Mage Kruzen' in public," the old man muttered.
"Okay~" Evalyn sang, utterly unbothered.
"Do your best, Erik," Kruzen said. "I'll step in after the rookies."
"Got it."
"Let the selection begin!" Yosul announced.
The gate creaked open.
Seven rookies marched in, shields raised. Nothing threatening. Erik wasn't focused on them anyway.
He was focused on control.
The goal wasn't to hurt them—just break their shields. But precision meant pulling punches at the last second.
Let's try again.
He launched forward.
The rookies fanned wide. Standard formation. Erik faked toward the center, then pivoted right—his fist smashing into one shield.
BOOM.
It shattered. The rookie flew with it.
Too much. Again.
Spells rained down—fireballs, ice shards. Panic casting. Two mages in back, swordsmen guarding.
Never works.
Erik sprinted through the barrage, drove his fist into the ground.
BOOM.
Dust swallowed the arena.
He vanished inside. A second later, one swordsman flew back. Another staggered. Erik grabbed both by the head and slammed them together.
Crack.
The mages scrambled. "Behind—!"
Too late. Erik's fist smashed one to the floor.
The other hurled spells wildly. Erik darted between them, closed the gap, and with one kick sent the swordsman crashing into the mage.
Another charged from behind. Erik ducked low, pivoted on one hand, and drove his heel into the attacker's face.
BOOM.
Erik paused, eyes narrowing.
What if I used their weapons?
He snatched a fallen sword, hurled it like a spear.
It struck dead center.
Shatter.
The mage's shield broke, his scream echoing.
"…Maybe too far," Erik muttered.
"Round over!" Yosul called. "Erik, pull that out of him, would you?"
Erik yanked the blade free. The wound shimmered and vanished—the shield had absorbed it all.
Cleanup teams dragged the groaning rookies away.
"Second round, done! Next team—assemble!"
Ten rookies this time. Erik didn't hesitate. He tore through them—fast, brutal, efficient. But it still wasn't right. Every strike carried more weight than he wanted. Precision eluded him.
"That's it for the second round," Yosul said. "Short break."
Erik stood in the center, catching his breath. Still not good enough.
He glanced up. Evalyn was speaking with strangers on the balcony. Not rookies. Not guild members. Their mana was sharp, dense, dangerous. Unfamiliar.
Who the hell are they?
They looked back at him. He held their gaze.
"I see you're trying something new," Kruzen said, stepping forward.
"Yeah. Control. It's not—"
"Your speed," Kruzen cut in.
"…Should I go slower?"
"No." Kruzen's eyes sharpened. "You're not fast enough."
"What?"
"One-on-one, you'd manage. But against many—you're still too slow."
"So if I go faster—"
"No."
Erik frowned.
"You have to see your target before you strike," Kruzen said.
"But the mana shield is invisible. How am I supposed to see something that isn't there?"
"Is it?" Kruzen asked, raising a brow. He offered nothing else.
Erik stared, frustrated.
"I'll give you a push this round," Kruzen said. "Be ready."
And then Erik felt it.
The link snapped into place. Mana poured in—pure, refined, endless. His body grew weightless. His mind razor-sharp.
"Next team's up!" Yosul shouted. "Four silvers, five bronze! Erik, go all out!"
The gate opened.
One silver scoffed. "This kid? You serious?"
Erik didn't answer. He looked up at the gray sky.
"Cloudy today," he murmured. "Might rain."
He closed his eyes. Activated his core.
Fire licked across right side of his body—hot, controlled. His eyes opened—
And he saw it.
The shimmer.
A faint distortion wrapping each opponent, like glass bending light.
Mana shields.
"There you are."
He drew his dagger.
The silver hunters blinked—then Erik moved.
A blur. A bolt of fire.
One shield shattered. Then another. Then another.
No wasted motion. No hesitation. Each strike perfect.
By the time the last hunter realized what happened, Erik was already behind him.
"All of you," Erik whispered, voice like steel.
"Out."