"Eh? Is the round over? It is, right?" Yosul asked, blinking.
"What? We weren't prepared for this! We need a rematch!" one of the silver-ranked hunters shouted—the same one who had mocked Erik earlier.
Before he could finish his protest, Erik lunged.
He grabbed the man by the throat and hoisted him into the air, flames flaring up his arm.
"If you walk into a monster's den unprepared," Erik said coldly, "then you're not qualified to be a hunter."
The man screamed as Erik's flames singed his neck. Erik dropped him, let the fire vanish, and turned away.
The silver-rank hunter coughed and fell to his knees. Then—he drew his sword and charged.
He barely raised the blade before Erik turned and kicked him in the gut.
BOOM.
He flew across the arena and slammed into the gate with a groan.
"The round is over, you idiots! Get out now!" Evalyn shouted from above.
A beat passed.
"Also, Erik, that was great—but maybe dial it down a little?" she added, less sternly.
Erik didn't reply. He turned and walked straight toward Arch Mage Kruzen.
"What the hell was that?" he asked.
"It's called Walker's Eyes," Kruzen said, his tone light. "A method that allows you to see the mana that exists around you an in you. Wonderful magic, isn't it?"
"But… how was I able to use it?" Erik asked, still catching his breath.
"Because I taught you," Kruzen said simply.
Erik blinked. "What?"
"Ah, ah, ah!" Kruzen wagged a finger. "Let's just call it a gift. For impressing me."
Erik stood there, stunned.
He knew what this meant. When an Arch Mage links with someone and teaches them a technique—not through words, but by imprinting it directly into their body and mana—that was no casual gesture.
It was a ritual.
A blessing.
Something that only happened during formal award ceremonies, granted to elite hunters or war heroes.
And Kruzen had just handed it to him.
Erik glanced around.
No one seemed to notice what had just happened.
"Let's keep it that way," he muttered under his breath.
"Alright! Let's start the next round," Yosul called out cheerfully.
The selection continued.
Team after team filed in. Bronze, silver, sometimes mixed. Erik didn't stop. He tore through them—relentless, calculated. Each team fell faster than the last. He tested their limits, forced them into panic. He left one or two standing at the end of each round, just to see what they would do in the face of hopelessness.
Fight? Flee? Freeze?
He played with them like a child with dolls in a sandbox. And part of him… enjoyed it.
Through it all, he didn't feel even a flicker of fatigue.
The Arch Mage's mana. This is what it's like.
By the time the twentieth round ended, the sun was dipping below the walls of the training grounds. The arena floor was stained with shattered shields and scorched mana traces. The Arch Mage hadn't moved once from his place. He didn't even look winded.
"Okay, that's it for today!" Yosul called out. "Erik, thanks again. You can head back to your quarters. I'll see you tomorrow morning!"
Erik turned to Kruzen and gave a deep bow.
"Thank you."
The Arch Mage gave a faint smile and left without a word.
Erik looked up at the balcony.
The guests were still there—silent, watching. Evalyn stood among them, speaking, nodding occasionally, distracted.
"She looks busy… I'll just head to bed. Not in the mood for a meal."
He returned to his room, stripped off his armor and boots, and stepped into the bath. The hot water did little to soothe the restless energy in his limbs.
Even as he lay in bed, the pressure of the day refused to lift.
Twenty rounds.
And he hadn't felt a thing.
The next morning arrived, crisp and quiet.
Erik rolled out of bed, washed up quickly, and donned his armor and boots. He pulled his cloak over his shoulders and fastened it tight.
"Hmm… Today's the last day here."
He stepped out of his room—and was immediately greeted by Yosul's warm smile.
"Good morning, Master Erik," he chimed, his voice as sweet and cheery as ever.
"Oh, good morning," Erik replied, more relaxed than he'd been the day before.
"Today, we'll be heading to Training Hall One," Yosul said, already leading the way.
"And who are we testing today?" Erik asked, raising an eyebrow.
Yosul only grinned. "You'll see."
Training Hall One loomed ahead—larger, more fortified than the modest Hall Seven. Erik stopped at its gate, feeling a strange tension in the air. The moment he stepped inside, the sight waiting for him made him blink.
"Really now?" he muttered.
Evalyn stood at the center of the arena, axe resting across her shoulder. Armor light, posture casual—but her presence pressed down on the hall like a storm waiting to break.
"Erik," she called, her voice carrying across the stone walls. "This will be your test. To see if you're worthy of fighting on the White Wolf front lines. Get ready."
From the balcony, Erik could feel Arch Mage Kruzen's calm pulse threaded through him—the link still steady in his chest. Yosul stood beside him, smiling faintly. And beside them, the mysterious woman watched in silence.
Evalyn cracked her neck, rolled her shoulders, and let out a breath. Her aura surged, thick as a wave crashing against the shore. It should have been overwhelming.
Erik stood firm. He activated his core. Mana coursed through his limbs, hardening bone, tightening muscle, sharpening focus.
Evalyn lowered her stance, axe sliding into both hands.
"You ready, Erik?" she asked.
His grip tightened on his blade. "Let's find out."
Her first swing never touched him.
She stepped forward and carved the air. The pressure alone split the space between them with a razor-thin wave of force.
A mana slash.
Erik dropped low, the invisible blade hissing over his head. He pushed off the ground, sliding forward, and struck toward her flank.
Evalyn slipped aside like smoke. Her counter came instantly—a brutal downswing.
Steel met steel. The clash blasted him across the arena like a ragdoll. He smashed into the wall, stone cracking beneath the impact.
Vision blurred. Breath caught.
"Damn it—"
Another slash tore through the wall where he'd been. He rolled away, heart pounding.
Evalyn stood calm, tracking him like a teacher watching a child stumble through drills. "Running won't help you, Erik!"
She stomped the ground.
The arena shook. Stone split and rose in jagged chunks, stealing his footing. She ripped one of the boulders free and hurled it with terrifying ease.
Erik roared and sliced through the rock, flames splitting it into molten shards—
—and Evalyn burst through the debris like a cannonball.
Too fast—
Her hand clamped into his hair. Pain flared white. She wrenched him overhead and slammed him into the wall.
CRACK.
His spine jolted. Air ripped from his lungs.
No pause.
Her fist dropped toward his skull—merciless, final.
Erik caught her wrist with both hands. His arms screamed against the pressure, vision flickering with black spots.
"Fire Domain—Cage!"
Flames exploded outward, coiling into a dome of molten bars snapping shut.
Evalyn hissed and leapt back just before the fire clamped around her. Smoke licked her boots as she landed, grinning.
"Phew. You almost got me."
Erik staggered upright, flames spiraling from his core, hotter, hungrier. The air shimmered.
Evalyn's grin widened. "So you're upping the game. Good. Let me show you a few tricks too."
His sword ignited fully. He slashed—once, twice. Arcs of fire raced across the floor toward her.
Evalyn didn't flinch. She charged through, her axe spinning, sparks flying as she carved through the flames.
Erik was already there, blade sweeping up in a fiery arc.
She sidestepped.
But Erik twisted mid-swing, redirecting the strike. Fire licked toward her side.
She caught the burning blade with her bare hand.
For a heartbeat, it looked like madness. The flames clawed at her skin, mana shrieking. But Evalyn only yanked him forward and buried her boot in his gut.
The kick hurled him across the arena.
He skidded, boots carving trenches in stone—but landed on his feet, chest heaving.
Then he saw it.
Her axe glowed blue. Not just light—crackling. Electricity crawled along the steel.
Clouds churned above the arena ceiling.
"Catch these, Erik!" Evalyn shouted.
Lightning fell.
Bolts speared the stone, thunder splitting the air. The arena filled with ozone and fire. Erik sprinted through it, weaving between flashes, each crack searing his ears.
Focus! Don't stop—
A shadow loomed.
Evalyn was already behind him. Axe descending.
He barely raised his blade. The impact rattled his arms, knocked the wind out of his chest, tore him off the ground.
She was there again—above him this time. A boot slammed into him mid-air, driving him into the floor like a meteor.
Stone shattered. His body screamed.
Before he could groan, she grabbed his leg—
—and smashed him down again.
CRACK. The floor split beneath him.
Evalyn loomed over him, axe resting on her shoulder, grinning as though the fight had only just begun.
"Looks like that's all you've got, Erik."
Flat on the fractured stone, Erik's ribs burned, limbs numb, head ringing. Even with Kruzen's link humming through him, even with his flames still alive, he hadn't stood a chance. Not against her.
"Get up. You're selected," Evalyn said.
He blinked through the haze. "And what made you decide that?"
"You were selected from the beginning." She turned casually away, humming. "I just wanted to fight you."
Erik groaned, sprawled across the broken floor. "I hate you."
Evalyn laughed without looking back. "I know."
She strolled out of the arena, axe slung over her shoulder, as if the last ten minutes hadn't nearly killed him.
Erik stared at the ceiling, breath ragged.
"…Insane woman." He closed his eyes. "I think I love her."