079 IT'S NOT OVER YET
There was no answer coming from the chaos. The haze clung thick, obscuring everything.
"Is he dead yet?"
"It's impossible to survive that," Freeland Veyran said confidently, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. "Not even Damen Dark could survive our all-out attack… that is the equivalent of a Rank D or perhaps even C attack."
He turned to the other heirs. "You see? That's the difference between pedigree and stupid arrogance."
They exchanged smirks and quiet high fives as the smoke began to thin.
But something was wrong.
A pulse rippled through the arena floor—soft at first, then sharper. The smoke shifted against an unseen current.
Crimson sparks began to glow from within the crater, faint at first, then flaring like veins of molten metal.
"Wait…" one of the students whispered, stepping back. "That… that's not over…"
Freeland froze mid-laugh.
From the ash, a silhouette stood—tall, unmoving. The glow traced up the figure's arms like living circuitry.
Damen Dark was still standing.
Damen's eyes flared as his scanner beeped.
"Armor: 65 — found you at last."
Damen found the weakness in the force field dome.
In the next heartbeat, he vanished from sight— then reappeared in front of the shimmering dome.
BOOM!
His kick slammed into the force field like a thunderclap.
The air shuddered. Rippling lines of pressure spread across the translucent surface, spiderweb cracks branching outward from the point of impact.
For a moment the shield held— then it shattered.
The collapse exploded inward in a concussive wave. The challengers inside were thrown off their feet, tumbling like rag dolls as the ripple of kinetic energy echoed through the dome's interior.
When the dust settled, Damen stood before them—alone, calm, and surrounded by the broken formation of his enemies.
They tried to rise.
"No one escapes from me… from my bloody Hell", he cried.
Damen didn't give them the chance. He spun, his heel slicing through the air in a wide arc. The Momentum Collapse detonated with a crushing pulse, flattening two students instantly.
The Echo reverberated—slamming into those behind them.
Screams filled the arena.
He moved again with another strike, rendering another burst of collapsing force.
Students crumpled, gasping, unable to defend against the unrelenting barrage.
"Stop it! They surrender!" Principal Misk shouted from the stage, panic rising in his voice.
But Damen's expression was blank, as if he hadn't heard.
"What was that?" he shouted over the chaos. "They refuse to surrender?"
Another blow.
Another wave of kinetic shock crushed through the line.
By the time the teachers reached the field, it was already over.
The challengers lay sprawled in silence—some groaning faintly, while most were unconscious. The ground beneath them was cracked and scorched from the repeated blasts.
Principal Misk froze mid-step, horror in his eyes. "This… this is a massacre…"
Damen turned slowly to face the crowd—his shirt torn, his eyes burning with calm fury.
"This," he said, voice echoing across the stunned field, "is the consequence of challenging the Demon."
He raised his fist, then opened it as though releasing invisible dust.
"Congratulations," he said softly, his tone both mockery and victory.
"I win."
The arena was silent. Nobody cheered. Only the faint hum of dissolving meta energy filled the air.
-----
[Before the School Challenge event]
"Wait, I've thought about it," Damen said, crossing his arms. "I'm not going to the School Challenge."
Zairgid blinked. "What? Why not? I've already started a betting pool!" He grinned mischievously. "I'm betting on you to beat the entire school."
Damen raised a brow. "The entire school? Must I actually beat everyone to win your stupid bet?"
"Not exactly." Zairgid leaned back, twirling his pen. "You just have to defeat the most students before you give up. Each win adds to your score. The one with the highest tally by the end ranks first. It's easy money. More than half the students would quit when they draw to fight you."
Damen exhaled sharply. "Still no. There are too many strong students this year. Some of them specialize in ranged meta attacks. It'll be a hassle if I get matched with those."
Range combat was still a hurdle for Damen.
Zairgid frowned, tapping his chin—then suddenly snapped his fingers. "Ah! I've got something for you."
He rushed to his drawer and pulled out a folded set of dark clothing.
Damen took one look. "What's this?"
Zairgid's grin widened. "Your Rank C battle suit. The one you ruined fighting Kurt. Our lab couldn't restore it to full spec, but we patched the damaged sections with D-grade meta fiber. It's not perfect—still holds Rank D defensive capacity—but even that's top-tier gear. I don't even have armor like this."
Damen turned the fabric over in his hands. The repaired sections glimmered faintly with synthetic threads. "You actually managed to fix it?"
"Of course," Zairgid said, puffing his chest. "Aukuoma Industry quality. You doubt my people?"
Damen smirked and slipped the suit under his clothes. The snug armor hummed faintly, syncing to his bio-field.
He remembered how Kurt's blow had torn through his old suit like paper, almost killing him… and how he'd promised himself not to make that mistake again.
"This'll do," Damen murmured.
With this armor, no one in the school could break his defense on the first hit. And if a fight went south, he could always quit before the damage got serious.
He looked at Zairgid, a faint grin tugging at his lips.
"Alright," he said. "I'm in."
Zairgid whooped. "That's my guy! Let's win me some money."
-----
Damen had planned his fight long before the final ten challengers stepped into the arena. He knew exactly what they would do—form up, summon a high-tier defensive array, and let their ranged meta-skills rain destruction from behind a ranked formation shield.
He wasn't worried.
He understood his own power.
Momentum Collapse could ripple through barriers—so long as the opposing force field wasn't too much stronger than his meta-output.
The trick was finding the weak point.
So, for most of the battle, he didn't strike back.
He dodged, rolled, and endured, letting their attacks explode around him while his eyes traced every shimmer and distortion across the force-field dome.
The moment of truth came when all ten unleashed their combined barrage. Ice bolts, flame waves, and shards of burning light slammed into him in one devastating pulse.
For a few seconds, everything was ash and static. The audience gasped, thinking it was over.
But inside that smothering haze, Damen still stood unharmed. The repaired D-rank body suit had held… barely, but enough.
Through the drifting smoke, he spotted it: a faint flicker, a ripple near the dome's northern quadrant.
The weak point.
He raised his hand, channeling all his force into a single focused dash.
Momentum Collapse!
The force field cracked like glass under pressure, then shattered completely. What followed was chaos—the enemy formation broke, their ranks scattered, and by the time the dust settled… Damen alone was standing.
The rest, as they say, was history.
Damen exhaled slowly, lowering his guard. "So that's it," he murmured, brushing the soot off his sleeve.
The crowd began to stir—some whispering in disbelief, others cheering his name. It was over. He had crushed the last of them.
Or so he thought.
Then came a cold voice.
"You've not won the School Challenge yet…" the voice barked, sharp as steel. "You are yet to fight me."
-----