The sky above the arena paled. Gray clouds hung low, as if holding their breath. Sunlight filtered through a thin mist, casting a sacred glow over the stone ground, slick with morning dew.Isaac’s footsteps echoed—slow, yet resolute.“One more step,” he whispered inwardly. His leather shoes struck ground that felt heavier than usual. Not from gravity, but from the burn of thousands of eyes watching from the stands.Some cheered softly.Some were silent, gazing coldly.Across the arena, his opponent stood motionless. Like a statue—alive. A tall young man with silvery hair draping over his shoulders. His robes were layered with ancient symbols pulsing slowly—red, gold, then violet. The aura around him... was as if an ancient spirit had awakened.Isaac narrowed his eyes.“This mana… it doesn’t belong to our world.”His body shivered. The air thickened. The temperature dropped suddenly, turning the dew into tiny crystals. His breath emerged in mist.“Isaac Ackerman,” the referee’s voice br

Thin smoke hung in the air, embracing the shattered battlefield. Cracks clawed the ground like war scars, and ruined magic pillars lay scattered, blackened and charred. The air carried the scent of metal and burning heat. The magical shields surrounding the arena trembled, as if holding a long breath before exploding.Isaac stood still amid it all, his back straight, breathing steady. Yet his gaze was sharp as a dagger. A deep blue aura flickered around his body, pulsing from within—calm but threatening. His robe was torn in places, revealing arms covered in bruises and scrapes. But he did not flinch.“He hasn’t unleashed everything yet.”It wasn’t a voice from outside, but inside his own mind. He knew his opponent was no ordinary sorcerer.Across from him, Lucian von Drazel stood with his head slightly bowed. His silver hair was messy, partly singed. His eyes, two sharp grey points, stared at Isaac as if scanning him. A strange dimensional aura pulsed around him, thin spirals spinning

---The heavy wooden door creaked open slowly, releasing a low rumble that echoed off the ancient stone walls. Isaac’s hand hovered above the faintly glowing rune carvings, as if summoning something from the dark depths beyond. His breath caught briefly as he stepped inside the ancient archive room, a place that until now had only existed as a myth in the minds of ordinary students.The room was dim. Mana crystal lights hung from the ceiling, casting a soft blue glow that danced among the old wooden shelves crowded with scrolls and leather-bound books that looked fragile and thick with dust. The scent of old parchment and long-extinguished candles filled the air, lending a mystical and almost sacred atmosphere.Isaac’s eyes roamed, sharp and attentive to every detail: fine dust falling as he shifted a scroll, cracks in the stone walls surrounding the room like whispering secrets. “This is... more than just a library,” he murmured inwardly, his voice barely audible amid the eternal sil

The night sky above Avalon Academy loomed gray. A thin mist cloaked the inner courtyard, making the stone pillars look like silent ghostly shadows. Everything was deathly quiet, nearly frozen—except for a lone figure slipping swiftly between the shadows of the ancient architecture.Isaac steadied his breath. The black cloak he wore billowed faintly, absorbing the darkness. His footsteps were nearly soundless as he moved along the stone corridor toward the alchemical storage room. His hand brushed the wall—searching for a gap. Then... click.A hidden panel slid open.“So this is the path…” he thought. “Still intact. They must be confident no one knows about this place.”A spiral staircase descended into darkness—damp and suffocating, like the throat of an ancient beast. Isaac raised a hand, channeling mana to his fingertips. A dim purple glow lit the way—just enough to guide him down, but not too bright to draw attention.One… two… thirty-five steps. The floor shifted from ordinary sto

The sky above Avalon Academy was as dark as soaked charcoal. Clouds hung low, spreading a strange heaviness in the chest of anyone who looked up. The autumn wind blew cold, tugging at Isaac’s unkempt hair—he hadn’t had time to fix it that morning.He walked briskly along the moss-covered stone path leading to the upper library. His steps were steady, but his mind wandered. The archive map he had copied the night before lingered clearly in his thoughts—there was a hidden section, protected by an old illusion. And he was going there. Alone.But before he reached the marble staircase arch, he saw him.Lucian.Standing in the middle of the pathway as if time had frozen around him. His posture was firm, his long black-purple cloak embroidered with the von Drazel family crest fluttered gently in the wind. His gaze was cold, piercing, without the usual mockery he liked to throw around. Just a calm stare… yet filled with threat.Isaac narrowed his eyes. His hand instinctively touched the slee