Rain poured mercilessly over the city, drowning screams beneath its relentless roar. Panic spread through the streets as people fled in every direction, unaware of the true horror unfolding beyond the academy walls.
At the edge of the forest, Rick stood with his sword aimed directly at Will.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Rick vanished.
The distance between them collapsed in a blink. Will barely registered the motion before a tidal wave of mana slammed into him. The sheer force tore through the forest, uprooting trees as if they were twigs. Will was sent flying, crashing through trunks and branches.
Rick followed instantly.
He struck the moment Will landed—steel descending with killing precision.
But the blade stopped.
Will had blocked it.
Rick's eyes widened in shock. He twisted, kicking Will square in the chest and blasting the air from his lungs. Will staggered, but did not fall. Rick pressed forward without hesitation, grabbing Will by the leg and slamming him into a massive stone. The impact cracked the rock.
Rick raised his sword for the finishing blow.
Will slipped away at the last second, the blade carving only air.
They disappeared into the forest.
Steel clashed again and again as they fought through rain, mud, trees, and stone—using the terrain as weapons. Roots shattered. Rocks split. The ground itself bore scars from their battle. No cries echoed through the woods—only the relentless rhythm of rain and the scream of swords colliding in the dark.
But inside the arena, the situation was just as desperate. Instructors and students fought desperately against Roy and Mroth.
The instructor and students were fighting desperately but was not able to land a single blow. And it was given since the opponent is at the level of Sword-Master.
A thunderous crash echoed through the arena.
Someone screamed.
A body was hurled violently into the wall, striking stone with a sickening sound before collapsing onto the ground. Pain rippled through the watching students like a shockwave.
"Damn it…" Rome groaned as he struggled to rise, blood streaking his face. Even after throwing everything they had—students, instructors, city guards—it wasn't enough.
The truth was impossible to ignore.
Their enemies were Swordmasters.
And they were not.
"We can't damage them," Rome muttered bitterly. "We're only Aura Masters at best. All the elite guards and high-level instructors are still trapped outside the city."
His fists trembled as he forced himself upright.
A command rang out.
"Do NOT engage them directly!" the head guard shouted. "Buy time. Create openings. Protect the students at all costs!"
Guards rushed forward, forming barriers. Mana flared. Magic guns roared as concentrated blasts streaked toward Mroth and Roy—but the attacks shattered uselessly against their defenses.
Blaze stepped forward, screaming for everyone to move aside, unleashing a torrent of power fueled by desperation.
But they were still standing.
Mroth clicked his tongue in irritation. "This is annoying," dhe said coldly. "I came here to enjoy killing, not to wait."
Roy smirked, dodging a barrage of bullets. "Give it time," he said. "Once Will's signal comes, you can kill them."
But before Mroth could reply—
Pain exploded across her jaw.
A blur crashed into her, launching her body through the arena wall.
"What—?!" Roy, stunned tried to attack him but was blocked by Blaze making Roy taking few steps back.
And in midlle of this a figure landed lightly amidst the rubble.
Michael.
"I'm sorry I'm late," he said calmly, drawing his sword. "The city was in chaos… and I couldn't ignore that."
His blade flashed.
Students—who had been moments from death—felt breath return to their lungs as Michael charged, clashing steel against the invaders. Others followed, courage reignited.
"Now we have two people at the peak of Aura Master," Henry—the crown prince—snapped his head around, issuing orders to the guards behind him. "Move! Support them however you can!"
A voice scoffed mid-charge.
"Would he shut up already?" Soul muttered as he sprinted forward to attack.
But the moment they moved—
Roy smiled.
Watching them rush him all at once, he showed no panic. No urgency.
In a single motion, he seized Michael's wrist and hurled him aside like a broken doll. Blaze rushed in—only to be kicked away, his body slamming hard into the ground. Henry tried to intervene—
Steel flashed.
Pain erupted across chests and stomachs as Soul and Willu were cut down in an instant. Blood stained the arena floor.
"Damn it—!" Michael forced himself upright, rage blazing in his eyes as he charged at Roy again.
Roy took several steps back, retreating toward Mroth, who lay sprawled on the ground, laughing.
"How long are you going to stay down?" Roy asked coldly.
Mroth wiped blood from her mouth, a twisted grin spreading across her face.
"I'm just thinking," she said softly, "how fun it would be to kill that boy with so much potential."
Roy's expression darkened. "I don't care.I prefer playing with girls."
The smile vanished from Mroth's face.
"Then let's find out," Mroth said standing up.
Inside the arena, panic resurfaced.
"Are you two okay?" Blaze asked desperately as healer worked frantically to heal them.
"I'm fine," Soul answered shakily.
"Me too," said Willy—though blood still ran down their side.
They rose together, forcing their bodies to obey.
"What do we do now?" Rome whispered. "I don't think we can kill them… and with the city in chaos, no help is coming."
"That's right," head guard admitted. "Our mana is almost gone."
"Don't panic," Blaze said, forcing steadiness into his voice as he rose to his feet. "Now that we have Michael, we can fight them head-on. The others will support."
No one answered—but they followed.
They didn't know what the enemy truly wanted. They didn't know why the city was being torn apart.
But one truth remained unshaken:
Their only duty was to protect the civilians—even if it meant fighting monsters far beyond their limits.
Blaze moved first, stepping through the shattered walls of the arena. Michael followed close behind, joined by several wounded students who refused to stay down.
Far above the city, the sky had become a battlefield.
Spells clashed midair, explosions blooming like violent stars. Rain poured relentlessly, washing blood from the rooftops as attacks were exchanged without mercy.
"What's the matter?" Madrok sneered from the sky. "You said you wanted to kill me—yet you hesitate?"
Nuel said nothing.
He simply followed.
Blades of magic, compressed mana, and cursed spells struck from every direction. Madrok dodged them all with terrifying ease, weaving through the storm as if the air itself bent to his will.
Then—
A sphere of water materialized in front of him.
It struck.
Not enough to kill—but enough to draw blood.
Madrok halted midair, staring at the crimson spreading across his stomach. Slowly, deliberately, he touched it. When he looked up again, he was smiling.
"So that's why," he said softly.
"You've only been using low-level spells… waiting."
Behind him, the rain thickened.
"You were summoning it," Madrok continued. "A high-level water spirit. Clever. In this weather, against someone who can't use spirits…"
His smile widened.
"A very good decision."
Nuel hovered silently, rain streaming down his face. His eyes were cold. Angry.
But beneath that fury—something else twisted.
"Madrok," Nuel said at last, his voice low. "Tell me one thing."
Madrok tilted his head.
"What was the reason you killed all those people?"
Silence fell between them.
Only rain answered—pounding, relentless.
Then—
Laughter.
Hoarse. Cruel. Endless.
"Oh, Nuel," Madrok said between chuckles. "You already know. It's for power."
Nuel's fists clenched.
"I know thay," Nuel continued, his eyes cold. "But what I want to know is…th e reason behind that."
The space between them grew heavy—
As if the sky itself was holding its breath.
"It was twenty-five years ago," Madrok said, his voice slicing through the rain-soaked sky, "when I attended the conference of The Great Continental Union."
Nuel listened, unmoving.
"I saw something that day—something beyond imagination," Madrok continued. "A being at the Fourteenth Circle. A being capable of destroying entire armies alone."
His eyes burned with memory.
"And in that moment, only one thought consumed me."
His lips curled.
"Isn't he a god?"
"After that, I began to crave that power. Not for peace. Not for order.I wanted it because it existed."
"What will you do after achieving such power?" Nuel asked quietly.
"It's obvious—I'll become the king of this world."Madrok laughed.
"And after that?" Nuel pressed. "What's so special about ruling a world built on corpses?"
Madrok paused—genuinely surprised.
"I'm sure many would want that throne," Nuel continued. "I'm not denying the temptation. But if you become king only to be left alone in the end… then what is the point?"
The rain grew heavier.
"You'll die alone," Nuel said, gripping his staff. "No matter how powerful you become. No matter what you turn into. That emptiness—you'll never escape it."
He pointed his staff straight at Madrok.
"That is what you fear."
Madrok's smile vanished.
"That," he said coldly, "is exactly why I hate talking to good people."
He raised his weapon.
"All you ever talk about is morals. Truth. Meaning." His eyes hardened. "So let me make one thing clear."
"I don't care."
"I don't care about the weak. I don't care about this world."
"And I don't want anyone standing beside me."
Mana surged violently around him as he glared at Nuel.
"If I rule hell alone," Madrok snarled, "then so be it."
Far below, within the academy arena—
Rick and Will were still fighting.
Steel rang against steel. Blows were exchanged at blinding speed, sparks flying with every clash. Neither held back. Neither could afford to.
They fought with everything—mana, skill, rage, desperation.
Step by step, their battle spilled outside the main building.
Two fighters.
Two paths.
And only one outcome waiting ahead.
"I don't know whether you're mocking me," Rick said slowly, his sword angled low, steady, "or whether you truly don't want to kill me."
His eyes never left Will.
"But one thing is certain."
His grip tightened.
"You are powerful. Terrifyingly so."
Rick exhaled through clenched teeth.
"You stopped my attack without even using mana."
Will didn't answer.
He stood still—too still.
Will was in deep thought." The density and purity of his mana is on another level." looking at Rick.
"Even with little bit of mana…It's power is on a completely different level."
Will's thoughts ran cold and sharp.
"Who is he?"
"What's wrong?" Rick asked, tilting his blade toward him. "Did you bite your tongue?"
"Listen, kid. I don't want to kill you." Will,His voice lowered. "So step aside."
"In that case," Rick said quietly, raising his sword, "why don't you just surrender."
But the only thing Rick got was silence.
"So, You're not going to surrender," Rick said at last.
"Then I have no other choice."
His voice cut through the stillness like a blade being drawn from its sheath.
And in that frozen moment—
just before steel met inevitability—
the battle between them was reaching its peak.