The coliseum, which had been filled with murmurs, now held a silence so profound it was almost a sound in itself. The crowd, which had come to witness a spectacle of magical might, was instead staring at a monument of raw, unyielding reality. Prince Valerius's "Silver Spire" shimmered with ethereal beauty, a fragile work of art. David's fortress was an ugly, brutal, and terrifyingly real bulwark of stone and mana.
Valerius's polished smile wavered for the first time. The plan had been simple: he would display his masterful spellweaving, and David would be forced to counter with a chaotic, unrefined burst of mana, proving his path was nothing but a brute force fluke. But this… this was not what he had prepared for. David wasn't fighting; he was waiting. He had created a shield, and a challenge.
The Prince's face hardened. He would not be outmaneuvered by a commoner. He raised his hands, his silver robes shimmering as his mana, the pure, potent energy of a Transformation Five Mage, began to swirl around him. "A fortress of stone?" he sneered, his voice echoing through the silent coliseum. "How quaint. I will show you that reality is nothing to a master of the arcane!"
With a roar that shook the very foundations of the arena, Valerius conjured a massive magical sigil in the air above him. It was a vortex of blinding azure mana that began to spin, growing larger and more ferocious. "Behold!" he commanded, his voice filled with overwhelming power. "The Aetheric Grinder!"
The vortex descended with a terrifying scream, a churning mass of pure, destructive mana designed to tear apart matter on a molecular level. It was a spell meant for dismantling entire fortifications, and it was heading straight for David's fortress. A wave of fear rippled through the crowd. This was no longer a friendly demonstration; it was an attempt at murder.
From her royal box, Elisa watched in horror, her heart hammering in her chest. She had anticipated Valerius's arrogance, but not this level of malevolence. "He's not just trying to humiliate him," she whispered to her brother, Prince Arion. "He's trying to obliterate him."
Arion, a skilled fighter but a novice in the nuances of arcane conflict, was stunned. "Elisa, shouldn't we stop this? The rules—"
"The rules are a pretense," she retorted, her eyes fixed on David. "Valerius would have the world believe he won because his magic was superior, not because he was a murderer."
Inside his fortress, David felt the terrifying mana of the Aetheric Grinder descend. The air around him crackled with energy, and the earth under his feet began to tremble. He had used his Fortress Master's power to create a physical bulwark, but he knew physical strength alone was not enough to stop a spell of this magnitude. He closed his eyes and extended his mana sense, not to fight, but to analyze.
The mana of the Aetheric Grinder was raw and chaotic, but it was also predictable. It was a spear of energy, designed to pierce. He would counter with a shield of mana. He channeled his Fortress Master's resilience, not to his body, but to the very foundation of his fortress. He then used his Mage's power to create a complex runic defense on the outer walls, a swirling sigil that absorbed the incoming kinetic energy. Finally, he used his Pill Master's exquisite control to purify the chaotic mana of Valerius's attack, rendering it inert.
The first impact was a deafening roar. The Aetheric Grinder struck the fortress, and a wave of pure force slammed into its walls. The stones groaned, fissures appeared, and the ground around the fortress cracked. But the fortress held. The mana-infused ironwood acted as a conduit, the runes on its surface absorbed the energy, and the purified stone itself simply… refused to crumble. The spell, a masterpiece of destruction, sputtered out against David's unbreakable defense.
The crowd gasped. The silence was broken by murmurs of shock and disbelief. A spell from a Transformation Five Mage had been completely negated by a passive defense. It was unheard of.
Valerius, his face pale with a mix of shock and rage, refused to give up. He had not anticipated such a powerful defense. "A fluke!" he roared, his voice trembling with a fury that he could no longer hide. "A mere fluke of construction!"
He hurled a series of ever more powerful spells. A Shattering Comet—a ball of pure, concentrated kinetic force. A Thousand Gleaming Lances—a volley of sharp mana spikes designed to pierce any armor. But each one was met with the same result. The fortress absorbed and deflected them. It was a testament to David's unique ability to seamlessly fuse the four paths. The Knight's endurance made the stone strong. The Pill Master's purification made the mana-infused materials stable. The Mage's manipulation guided the absorbed energy away. And the Fortress Master's very will made it an unmovable object.
An hour passed. Valerius, who had started the demonstration with an air of effortless grace, was now panting, beads of sweat beading on his brow. His spell-weaving was becoming sloppy, his aura weakening. He had exhausted his most powerful spells on a defensive construct that should have crumbled in seconds. The crowd was no longer in silent shock; they were cheering for David. They had come for a spectacle, and they were witnessing a legend in the making.
Elisa watched with a growing sense of pride and relief. The plan was working. Valerius had fallen for the trap, just as she had predicted. He had spent all his mana, and he was now a wounded viper, harmless and enraged.
Inside the fortress, David's body was screaming in protest. The mana-strain was immense. He had absorbed and deflected the equivalent of a small war, and the pain in his mana core was so great he could barely stand. But he knew it was time. He had waited. He had endured. Now, it was time to play his final card.
He took a deep breath, and with the exquisite control of a master Pill Master, he began to draw on the residual mana from Valerius's exhausted spells, the energy that had been absorbed by his fortress. He didn't just purify it; he began to weave it into a single, cohesive form. He was turning Valerius's defeat into his own victory.
With a final, desperate roar, Valerius threw one last spell, a simple but powerful fireball. It struck the fortress, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, David's fortress began to glow. A soft, multicolored light pulsed from within, and the air around the fortress began to feel heavy with a terrifying, refined mana.
David stepped out from a small, stone door that had opened in his fortress. He looked tired, his dark tunic torn and his hair disheveled, but his eyes burned with a cold, triumphant fire. In his hands, he held a single, shimmering orb. It was the mana from all of Valerius's spells, purified and refined into a single, deadly weapon.
"You said you were a master of the arcane, Valerius," David said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that silenced the entire coliseum. "You are wrong. You are a master of a single path. I am a master of all of them. And your power… is now my weapon."
With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the orb. It didn't move like a fireball; it moved like a returning blade. It was Valerius's own magic, refined and sent back at him. Valerius, exhausted and out of mana, could only watch in horror as the orb struck him. There was no explosion, no flash of light. Only a silent, internal cascade of energy that tore through his mana core.
The Prince of Auroria, a Transformation Five Mage and the 'Silver-Tongued Serpent,' fell to his knees, his face pale and his body trembling. He was defeated. Not by a more powerful spell, but by a more powerful intellect. By a path that he had scorned as a 'dead end.'
The coliseum erupted. The crowd, who had been expecting a tragedy, was now cheering for a hero. They weren't just cheering for a victory; they were cheering for the impossible. They were cheering for the man who had come from nothing and stood on a pedestal built from the very scorn that had fueled him.
David stood there for a long moment, the roars of the crowd fading into a dull hum in his ears. The feeling was bittersweet. He had won. He had proven them all wrong. But the victory felt hollow. It was the culmination of a lifetime of pain, and it only served to remind him of the bitter road he had walked.
Then, a presence cut through the noise. Elisa rushed into the arena, ignoring her brother's shouts. She didn't care about the rules, about the crowd, or about the politics. She ran to David, her emerald eyes filled with a mixture of immense relief and tears.
She threw her arms around him, a tight, fierce hug that almost knocked the wind out of him. He was stiff at first, his body not used to such a raw display of affection. But as she held him, and as he felt the warmth of her body against his, the pain, the exhaustion, and the bitter hollowness of his victory began to fade.
"You... you did it," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "You're a legend."
David slowly, hesitantly, wrapped his arms around her, his head resting on her shoulder. His cold façade, for the first time in his life, cracked completely. He didn't say anything, but his actions spoke volumes. He had fought a lonely battle for so long, and now, for the first time, he was not alone.
"I had a very good strategist," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
Elisa pulled back, her face streaked with tears and a wide, brilliant smile. "And I had a very good hero."
The crowd continued to cheer, but in that moment, in the center of the coliseum, with the defeated prince on his knees and the victorious hero holding his princess, they were the only two people who mattered in the entire world.