The afternoon sun shone brightly above Aethelgard Battle Stadium, but the heat could not penetrate the cold aura surrounding the competitors' stands. Aster Vale sat comfortably on a wooden bench, his feet resting on a heavy burlap sack filled with gold coins from Toby's Franchise Tax. In his left hand, he held a cheap yellow banana he had just bought from the academy cafeteria for three copper coins, while his right hand was busy peeling it."Next contestants for the Quarterfinal round!" the referee's voice echoed, sounding slightly nervous after seeing the previous anomaly-filled rounds. "Kaelen from the independent faction, versus Vane from the Western Province!"A student in a gray robe stepped into the arena. His face was pale and expressionless, but behind his dark pupils lay a boiling sea of hatred. Vane was no ordinary student. He was a surviving member of the Abyss Cult from Arc 1 who had escaped the massacre. He had tortured himself with forbidden rituals, altered his bone st

In the contestant waiting area, Darius Vorn still sat clutching his cloak, which now radiated eternal warmth, his eyes staring blankly at the arena. The quarterfinal round had ended, and the academy committee quickly repaired the damaged sand floor using earth magic. The bronze bell in the academy tower chimed three times, signaling the start of the most anticipated round: the Semifinals."First Semifinal match!" the referee's voice echoed, this time amplified by wind magic so it could be heard even outside the stadium. "Kaelen of the independent faction, versus Silas Thorne, the Mental Illusion Genius from the White Tower!"The cheering crowd's noise shifted into murmurs of awe. Silas Thorne stepped into the arena wearing a pale purple silk robe. He carried no sword or magic staff. In both hands, he held a rare artifact the size of a basketball: the Elysium Crystal Illusion Machine. This artifact was a masterpiece of the White Tower, capable of projecting and forcing dream scenarios

The night before the final round of the Aethelgard Academy Internal Tournament was blanketed in deep silence. A full moon hung high in the sky, bathing the academy grounds in cold silver light. However, behind the thick dorm walls, two vastly different kinds of preparation were taking place.On the top floor of the VIP Dormitory, Darius Vorn's room was filled with the fragrance of expensive sandalwood incense. Darius sat cross-legged on a silk carpet, his breathing deep and steady. Before him lay a black wooden box lined with lead and carved with sealing runes. The sword he had pulverized into iron powder in yesterday's semifinals was merely a high-grade fallen star replica permitted by the academy for daily use. However, to face Kaelen in tomorrow's final, Darius had ordered his family's griffon courier to deliver the true artifact.With reverent movements, Darius opened the box. Resting inside was the Vorn Holy Sword, an ancestral heirloom forged directly from the core of an ancient

The bronze bell atop the academy tower chimed five times, its heavy, echoing ring signaling the start of the tournament climax. Thousands of spectators in Aethelgard Stadium held their breath simultaneously, creating a suffocating silence amidst the sea of people. On the royal balcony, King Valerius III leaned forward, his ermine cloak rustling, his eyes unblinking as he stared down at the arena. The dukes, generals, and foreign envoys stopped whispering. All eyes were fixed on the two figures who had just stepped onto the white sand of the arena.From the north gate, Darius Vorn stepped forward. He no longer radiated the elegant, calculated silver aura of previous rounds. The aura around him now was wild, dense, and trembling with a fanaticism that bordered on madness. In his right hand, he held the Vorn Holy Sword. The moment that ancient meteorite blade was drawn from its scabbard, a blinding starlight exploded outward, flooding half the stadium with an eye-searing white glare. Tha

The insult about the discount burned the remnants of Darius Vorn's sanity to ashes. Fresh blood dripped from his nose, falling onto the blade of the Vorn Holy Sword still trapped between the cracks of the Cracked Iron Sword. Instead of trying to free his sword with an elegant sword technique, Darius chose the most brutal and self-destructive method.With a roar that tore his vocal cords, Darius forcibly twisted his wrist. CRACK! The sound of the radius and ulna bones in his right arm cracking echoed clearly in the silence of the arena. He used the leverage of his own broken hand bones to wrench the Vorn Holy Sword out of Kaelen's grip. Sparks and meteorite powder exploded, forcing Kaelen to loosen his hold to avoid the unpredictable rotation of the blade.Regaining his freedom, Darius did not land. Instead, he slammed both feet into the melting obsidian glass floor. BOOM! The arena floor collapsed into a three-meter-deep crater, and Darius launched into the air like a cannon fired int