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( NOTE : I have made some changes to the novel the names and terms will less chinese)
Grant's response was immediate. Two silver-level cards materialized in bursts of magical energy—a fierce crimson-skinned demon warrior with rippling muscles, and a six-armed celestial beauty whose seductive appearance contrasted sharply with the wicked scimitars in each hand.
Are all silver cards just upgraded versions of their bronze counterparts? Russell mused, feeling the magical aura roll off Grant's summons like heat from a forge. He approached this battle with measured calm—winning would establish his position, but losing held lessons too. His first real silver-level duel deserved respect.
Still, that smirk on Grant's face... it presented opportunities.
Heath had briefed him earlier about Grant's cards—both from the prestigious Eight Guardian series. Russell had encountered similar demon warriors before, Jansen Crowe's Dragon Palace variant, but Grant's emanated far superior power. Not quite legendary tier—those would be gold-level minimum—but formidable nonetheless.
Across the battlefield, Yoriichi's hand moved to his blade's hilt, magical power building like a dam about to burst.
"Destroy all evil spirits and burn everything to ash!" "Hirin!"
Golden-red flames erupted across the mountaintop. The temperature spiked so suddenly that students stumbled backward, sleeves raised to shield their faces from the searing heat.
"Holy shit, Russell's got tricks!" Heath's eyes went wide as dinner plates.
Keith felt his hair literally curling from the heat waves. "That one card alone... it's matching our main team's aces!"
The roaring flames suddenly contracted, condensing onto Yoriichi's form until he blazed like a living sun. His blade gleamed white-hot, the air around him shimmering with distortion that blurred his features into something otherworldly.
"Interesting." Grant's eyes sharpened with genuine interest. "But flame alone won't breach my defenses."
Yoriichi exhaled slowly, sparks dancing on his breath. Then his blade moved.
Hundreds of golden-red crescents tore through the air, each one screaming with heat that left afterimages burned into watching retinas. The attack painted the sky in fire.
The demon warrior's expression never changed. Golden runes materialized around it—glowing symbols that wove together into a translucent wall. The flame blades crashed against the barrier in a cacophony of explosions.
BOOM!
The runic wall trembled, cracks spider-webbing across its surface, but held firm. Smoke and embers rained down, but Grant's cards stood untouched.
Perfect. While everyone focused on the fireworks, Nami had already stepped forward, Clima-Tact spinning lazily in her grip. Sometimes, Russell knew, you had to sacrifice pieces to control the board.
The six-armed warrior moved like liquid shadow. One moment Nami stood ready—the next, a scimitar passed through her midsection. She looked down at the blade with mild surprise before her form began dissolving into motes of light.
"NAMI!" Luffy's roar shook the mountain itself, raw fury transforming his usually cheerful features into something primal.
Steam erupted from his body as he bit down on his thumb. His arm inflated grotesquely, ballooning to impossible proportions as Gear Third activated.
"Gum-Gum... GIANT PISTOL!"
The fist that flew forward could have crushed a building. The shockwave alone sent spectators tumbling, and when it connected—
BOOM!
The entire mountaintop lurched. Students grabbed each other for support as the ground bucked beneath them like an angry beast.
"That's silver-level power from a bronze card!" "How is that even possible?" "I don't think all my cards combined could tank that..."
Heath and Keith exchanged meaningful glances, pieces clicking into place. Russell wasn't powerful because he was Blake's disciple—he was Blake's disciple because he was this powerful. They'd had it backwards the whole time.
Grant's confidence never wavered. "Eight Guardian Bond—shared defensive boost!" The runic wall, despite its spider-web of cracks, somehow held against Luffy's devastating assault.
"Defense still holding. Grant's the real deal." "Russell's in trouble now." "He's just a freshman—bit off more than he could chew." "Why hasn't he used his silver card yet?"
The crowd could see the toll—Luffy's form was already shrinking, the price of such power obvious. But while they focused on the obvious...
"Ninetieth Seal: Black Coffin."
The gentle voice cut through the chaos like silk through steel. Power gathered—not explosive like Yoriichi's flames, but deep and crushing like ocean pressure. Reality itself seemed to hold its breath.
A massive black coffin materialized around both Grant's cards, its surfaces gleaming with an oil-slick darkness that hurt to look at directly. Then, from every angle, pitch-black spears materialized and plunged inward.
"A caster?" Grant's realization came too late. While he'd focused on the flashy melee, Unohana had been weaving something far more dangerous.
The coffin dissolved like morning mist. Where the runic wall had stood, only fragments remained. Both the demon warrior and six-armed celestial bore countless hairline cuts, golden ichor seeping from wounds that shouldn't have been possible.
Tougher than expected, Russell noted, but the turtle's shell had cracked. Victory was just a matter of pressure now.
Grant's easy confidence evaporated like water on hot stone. The scent of his own defeat hung in the air, acrid and undeniable. Can't let this continue. New strategy—demon pins down the bronze threats while the celestial eliminates the caster. One clean strike to a squishy mage, and—
Golden runes erupted from the demon warrior, transforming into chains of light that lashed toward Yoriichi and Luffy. While they dodged and weaved, the six-armed warrior vanished.
It reappeared behind Unohana in perfect silence, all six scimitars raised for a killing blow.
"Grant's got it now," someone whispered. "Take out the silver card, and the rest crumble." "Smart play. Shame about Russell though."
Heath and Keith were already planning consolation speeches.
Victory! Grant's relief was palpable. These freshmen were monsters, true, but experience still counted. His celestial warrior had reached the enemy backline, scimitars descending toward exposed neck. He glanced at Russell, expecting despair—
That half-smile stopped him cold. What does he know that I don't?
Metal rang against metal with a sound like a bell tolling doom.
The six-armed warrior's blades had met one. Just one. Held almost casually in a delicate hand that shouldn't have been able to stop a falling leaf, much less a full-powered assault.
Then the pressure hit.
It wasn't magical energy in any conventional sense. This was killing intent refined to its absolute essence—the weight of countless deaths, the memory of blood-soaked centuries, the promise of violence so pure it became almost beautiful. Students dropped like wheat before a scythe, consciousness simply refusing to process what they felt.
Coach Carter's cards materialized instantly, throwing up barriers to protect the crowd. "No wonder you challenged the mains," he muttered, sweat beading on his scalp. "Kids these days..."
Heath's knees gave out, only Keith's grip keeping him upright. "I can't... my legs won't..."
"It's her ability," Keith gasped out, his own voice shaking. "And we're just catching the edges. Imagine being the target."
Grant's worldview shattered like his runic wall. "Not a caster?!"
The woman before him bore the same face, wore the same captain's haori, but everything else had changed. Where gentle warmth had been, now only cold evaluation remained. Where healing hands had waited, now a blade that had drunk deeply of death.
She moved with the economy of someone who'd long ago discarded anything unnecessary. One simple downward cut—no flourishes, no wasted motion, just the distilled essence of swordsmanship.
The celestial warrior threw itself sideways. Where it had stood, the mountaintop simply ceased. A perfectly straight canyon carved itself into ancient stone, edges so clean they gleamed.
"Dodge?" The voice that had gently cast spells now carried winter's edge. "How interesting."
"What kind of card IS this?!" Grant's composure finally cracked completely.
Movement at the crowd's edge caught Russell's eye—Hazel and several faculty members materializing beside Coach Carter. Their expressions ranged from concerned to intrigued.
"What's the commotion?" A middle-aged man frowned at the devastation. "Who authorized silver-level duels without proper barriers?"
Carter's smile held no humor. "A freshman challenging for main team position."
The woman beside him blinked. "A freshman with this kind of power?"
"Master Blake's disciple," Carter clarified.
All eyes turned to Hazel, who gave the tiniest nod of confirmation.
"Ah." The tension in the man's shoulders eased. "The exception admission. His reputation appears... understated."
The conversation cut short as Unohana moved again. This time, her approach held no urgency—a gardener walking toward a weed that needed pulling. Her blade rose with deceptive slowness.
DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH—
Grant's mind screamed warnings his body couldn't process. The killing intent had weight now, substance, crushing down until breathing became academic. The celestial warrior scrambled backward, but there was nowhere to run from someone who'd made death itself into an art form.
Teachers tensed, magical energy gathering—
A figure in yellow robes materialized between Unohana and her prey. Lightning crackled around the mage's hand as he caught her descending blade with fingers that sparked and hummed.
BOOM!
The yellow-robed figure stood unmoved, but the mountain beneath him surrendered. Stone shattered in an expanding ring, cracks racing outward until half the summit simply gave up and collapsed into the valley below. Dust billowed upward in a mushroom cloud that would be visible from the main campus.
"Thank you, Ms. Hazel," one teacher exhaled shakily. "Can you imagine the headlines if other schools heard our students got injured just watching a duel?"
Students found themselves standing next to summoned guardians, some clinging to the solid figures like life rafts. Grant teetered at the new cliff's edge, face pale as parchment, eyes fixed on where solid ground used to be.
"Red quality," he whispered, voice cracking. "Has to be red quality. Nothing else hits like that at silver level." He'd fought gold-quality cards before, even held his own. But this woman who'd returned to her gentle smile as if nothing had happened? She operated on a different scale entirely.
"This year's freshmen are absurd," he concluded weakly.
Russell found himself at the center of a faculty semicircle, their expressions ranging from impressed to mildly concerned about property damage.
"Hello, teachers. Hazel." He offered polite bows before turning to Carter. "So, Coach—main team position?"
Carter surveyed the renovated mountaintop with professional calm. "Granted. I'll handle any objections from Grant." A pause. "Though perhaps with less... enthusiasm next time?"
Russell scratched his head, managing to look genuinely sheepish. "First time using my silver card in real combat. Didn't expect quite that level of... renovation."
The teachers nodded understanding—every cardmaker remembered their first time unleashing true power. After a few more pleasantries, they dispersed to assess damage and probably argue about repair budgets.
Hazel lingered a moment. Her usual anxiety seemed to war with something else before she raised a tentative thumbs up.
Russell grinned back, but his mind was already moving ahead. Unohana's secret is blown. Future opponents will guard against [Yachiryu: Hidden] for sure. Still, even without the surprise factor, a healer who could pivot to ranged damage or close combat would frustrate any strategy.
Need more silver cards though. His fingers found the admission papers in his pocket. Good thing Northgate throws in one pocket dimension entry per year. Time to go shopping.
(End of this chapter)
Throw POWER STONES PLZ