"Teleport."
Percy vanished—displacing the air in a flash of silence—and reappeared behind them.
"Imperial Sword Style: First Form – Emperor's Crescent."
Simultaneously, a glowing magic circle ignited in his left palm.
{Earth Spikes.}
The incantation echoed in his mind as mana surged, synchronized with the arc of his blade.
Ava and Emma whipped around—caught mid-shift—eyes wide.
(Excellent.) Percy smirked, reading their hesitation like a book.
It was the distraction he needed.
With seamless grace, he slashed horizontally.
The magic circle fused with the movement of his katana—blurring spellcraft and swordsmanship into a single strike.
CRACK!
Earthen spikes erupted in a jagged wave, their force amplified by the momentum of his blade.
A barrage surged outward—primal, dense, and unforgiving.
"WHAT?!" the girls shouted in unison.
They had no time to react.
The spell collided with their guards and hurled them backward—slamming them into the boundary wall of the dimensional cube with a resounding crash.
Ava coughed, winded.
(Damn… what monstrous strength…!)
Emma's chest rose and fell rapidly—her eyes locked on Percy, now calmly standing with a soft, disarming smile.
(This is the strength of a Fifth Circle mage…?)
(When did a dark horse like him show up in Perish City?)
The sting of humiliation cut deeper than her wounds.
Still trembling, Emma forced herself upright.
Her eyes flickered—not with fear, but defiance.
"Breath of the Ocean."
A sphere of glimmering aquamarine light expanded around her—rippling waves of healing water flowed like silk over both her and Ava.
Ava's eyes widened, startled by the soothing cold that embraced her battered limbs.
For a moment, the arena fell into an eerie silence as rings of water danced in midair—graceful, ephemeral, healing.
Percy tilted his head in amusement.
{They're resetting. Smart.}
But Emma wasn't done.
Her hand shot forward, fingers flaring.
"Saint's Blessing!"
Another star spell circle bloomed—a lattice of silver lines glowing with holy light.
A beam of purifying mana surged and struck Ava—her posture straightened immediately.
(Emma's buff spell—) Ava could feel it.
The flicker of strength. The weight behind her limbs fading.
Like ice melting from inside her chest.
"Increased speed and strength by 10%," Emma began, breath still ragged,
"Even if it's only a two-star spell—"
"—It's only effective if the caster isn't half-dead," Ava muttered, cutting her off.
Emma smirked.
"Shut up."
They both turned toward Percy, who hadn't moved.
He stood patiently, katana lowered, as if indulging them.
The silence between them spoke volumes.
(Do you think this is enough?) Ava's thought slipped unspoken between them.
Emma inhaled sharply.
(Honestly?)
She gave her answer with brutal honesty.
(We're fucked.)
Ava stepped forward, shielding Emma with poise befitting a knight.
She moved like stone brought to life—unmoving, unshaken.
Her deep green hair didn't shift under the rising wind of magic. Her eyes were steady. Her hands curled around the hilt of her sword with a quiet reverence.
The blade—long, white, and adorned in gold—radiated a clean, radiant mana aura. There wasn't a single flaw in its form.
"This is my family's greatest pride," Ava said softly.
"The Sky-Severing Scalor."
Her voice held weight, but not arrogance.
"Passed down through the eldest daughters of my family for generations. Even in loss... I will only grow stronger beside my partner."
Percy's eyes flicked to the blade.
He felt something.
A pressure. A purity. A challenge.
He didn't show it—but deep within, something stirred. A fragment of unease. Something older than logic.
Meanwhile, Emma stepped forward, no longer holding her water sword.
Instead, she now bore something alive.
A wand, shaped like a coral reef's bloom—sapphire-studded and crowned with a glowing white shell, gleaming like the moon on the ocean's surface.
Her pink hair danced with unseen waves, aqua eyes luminous.
"Wand of the Trenches… hear my plea."
The air rippled, responding to her magic.
Percy swung his katana casually over his shoulder, letting it rest behind his neck like a scarf.
"Interesting," he mused, smirking.
"A tank, a close-range duelist, and a long-range support mage… all in one."
"Not bad."
Without warning—Ava moved.
She flickered out of view, and reappeared before Percy in a streak of golden-white.
"Tsurugikin Sword Style – First Form: Crushing Fang x3!"
She slashed in a triple-angled arc, her strikes like zigzagging lightning bolts mimicking the swipe of a predator.
Percy didn't flinch.
{Sensory Field – Activated}
{Spatial Element Detected – Synchronizing with Infinite Dimensional Lattice}
{Proficiency surge detected}
Percy's field of perception expanded—every detail became crystalline. He saw her trajectory before it happened.
He adjusted.
Effortlessly.
(Three simultaneous strikes. Formed like a clawed swipe. Good theory—flawed execution.)
His mind honed in on her weaknesses.
"Your breathing's shallow," he murmured into her ear, voice barely above the wind.
"Your grip's too stiff.
Your power output? Maybe seventy-eight percent at best.
Your footwork trails by two seconds.
And those 'fangs'... they're already dull."
Ava's eyes widened.
The words weren't mockery.
They were cold, precise dissection.
And then—
Percy shifted his stance and pushed against her arms with the hilt of his blade, redirecting the slashes mid-air with surgical force.
His leg swept forward—a spinning kick catching her off-balance.
CRACK.
Ava's body twisted as her stance broke—one foot tripping over the other, her arms bruised by the redirected force of her own strikes.
She hit the ground—hard. Dust spiraled up around her crumpled form.
Emma's hands trembled on her wand.
Her breath hitched.
Not far from the clash of blades and spells that rippled across the dimensional battlefield, a different kind of storm brewed.
Lyra Caelumis, eyes sharp as crystal and stance forged in poise, stood at the ready.
Beside her, Marcus Vestalyn, fists aglow with arcane energy, focused his breathing—steady and calm.
Across from them stood Jason Lunarae.
Unmoving.
Unimpressed.
He wore no armor.
Held no staff.
And yet the air around him felt... obedient.
"You two," he said, voice devoid of edge.
"You think this is a battle of equals."
He raised a single hand—and light shimmered across his fingertips, curling like celestial silk.
"It isn't."
Lyra moved first, casting three luminous rings of refracted starlight that split mid-air into a dozen spiraling beams.
"Caelumis Binding Array: Luminous Banishment."
The air lit up in prismatic colors, her spell precision-cut and perfectly sequenced.
Marcus followed, thrusting his palm forward as rotating magic circles swirled around his wrists.
"Vestalyn Star Pulse: Aegis Breaker!"
Both attacks surged toward Jason like twin crescendos of pressure and pedigree.
Jason didn't blink.
The space around him twisted as he raised his hand.
And with a whisper:
"Lumen Art: Radiant Collapse."
A single orb of white-gold light formed in his palm—silent, compressed, unthreatening… until it exploded.
FLASH.
The arena was bathed in a detonation of brilliance. The light didn't just blind—it pierced.
Marcus cried out, his shield shattered mid-cast. Lyra winced, aura fraying at the edges.
Jason stepped forward, untouched.
He didn't hurry.
"Your light is artificial, Lyra," he said casually.
"Mine is law."
With another flick of his wrist, ribbons of solidified light coiled outward—like blades without form, arcing with punishing precision.
Lyra summoned a defensive sphere—Caelumis family barrier magic—but Jason's light passed through it like mist.
One ribbon sliced her shoulder, forcing her to stagger back.
Marcus roared, sending shockwaves through the ground, launching an array of flame-tipped spells—but Jason waved his hand again.
"Lumen Art: Harmonic Refraction."
The fire spells hit a transparent veil and reflected perfectly, arcing back and detonating at Marcus's feet.
Boom—!
Marcus was launched backward, body rolling across the field.
Lyra gritted her teeth, blood trickling down her arm.
(His magic—it's flawless. No excess. No waste. It bends space… no—reality.)
Jason finally raised both arms.
Above him, a halo of interwoven magic circles spun like a radiant crown.
"Light reveals all things," he murmured.
"And some things... were meant to remain hidden."
The circles fired a barrage of condensed light spears, moving faster than thought.
Lyra barely dodged.
One grazed her thigh—numbness spread instantly. Another nicked her side.
Jason walked toward her, unhurried.
"You wanted to test yourself," he said softly.
"Let this be your answer."
His next spell ignited silently behind his eyes.
Ava lay motionless for a moment, her mind spinning.
(Unbelievable… he pinpointed the unstable points in my sword forms—in a single exchange.)
The clarity of his counter… the way he unraveled her technique like thread from a spool…
It was terrifying.
And beautiful.
Percy stood over her, sword raised once again, light catching the gleam of the blade.
"Imperial Style, Second Form: Royal Retribu—"
But before he could finish—
"Tentacles of the Deep!"
Emma's voice cut through the field like crashing waves.
The space beside her twisted.
Water exploded forth, forming six massive, serpentine tentacles—each one coiling and whipping toward Percy and Ava like summoned sea serpents.
"Teleport," Percy said calmly.
He vanished just as one of the tentacles would have wrapped around his ankle, reappearing a dozen yards away.
Ava rolled instinctively, teeth gritted, and rose to her feet—barely regaining her stance.
Emma rushed to her side.
"Ava—are you okay?"
Ava's breath was ragged, sweat beading down her brow.
"I think… I'll be okay."
It was less a promise, more a hope.
Emma looked her over, eyes frantic.
"What happened? The next thing I knew, you were on the ground and he was about to—"
Ava flinched at the memory.
"Yeah. Don't remind me."
Her voice was flat. Shaken.
"He broke me apart in seconds.
He analyzed my style. Found the cracks. Then struck without hesitation."
Emma's eyes widened.
"He what?"
She struggled to accept it… but the proof was in Ava's bruises.
"I never imagined he'd be this good… this sharp."
From across the field, Percy watched them quietly.
Beta reappeared beside him, perching on his shoulder.
"You could end this. You've already outpaced them. So why not finish it?" she asked, folding her arms.
Percy gave a sly grin.
"And where's the fun in that?"
He rotated his katana casually in one hand.
"I want this to last."
Beta sighed.
"Time passed is time lost. You forget that too easily."
Her words struck unexpectedly deep.
Percy glanced at the glowing clock floating above the pocket dimension.
"...Shit."
Time remaining: 20:03.
They'd already burned ten minutes.
"Guess it's time to stop playing," Percy muttered.
"Teleport."
He vanished.
And in the blink of an eye—he was behind Emma.
"Spatial Slash."
His blade flickered with spatial distortion, slicing forward in a silent arc.
But just as the blade was about to touch skin—
A barrier of rippling water erupted.
It caught the blade cleanly—absorbing its energy, redirecting the force across its spinning, fluidic surface.
Emma turned, panting, her voice steady despite the tension in her limbs.
"Not so easy this time."
The water shield shimmered—but it wasn't static.
It broke apart—not in failure, but in evolution.
Tiny spheres of water, spinning so rapidly they distorted light, began orbiting Emma like a protective storm.
Each droplet hummed with controlled violence.
Percy lowered his blade, intrigued.
"Interesting…"
His tone wasn't mocking.
It was the voice of a predator that had just seen something worth hunting.
Thousands of them, compressed and accelerating, orbiting Emma like a planetary defense system. Water bullets forged through mana discipline, shaped into—
(A fucking M134…?)
Percy's pupils constricted.
(That shield's not a barrier anymore.
It's a weapon.)
Thrrrrrrr—RRRRRRRRR!
A deafening hum tore through the field as pressurized water bursts erupted toward Percy in a spiraling storm.
He moved.
Not fast enough.
"Shit!"
One of the bullets pierced his side—then his shoulder. Another grazed across his abdomen.
He tried to teleport mid-air, but the sheer force of the attack rocketed him backward—sent skidding through the battlefield in a spinning blur.
He landed hard.
Coughing. Bleeding. Alive.
(Fuck…)
He clutched his stomach, eyes darting to the corner of his HUD.
"Damage Input: 25%
Combat Suit Integrity Breached.
Health Remaining: 80%," Beta reported calmly.
Percy groaned, blinking away the disorientation.
"Yeah… shouldn't have underestimated a 3rd Circle mage's foundational power," he muttered bitterly.
"Might've gotten a little too arrogant."
Beta floated down beside him, unimpressed.
"I wouldn't concern myself with such injuries, Master.
Though… you did look pathetic."
Before Percy could respond, he felt a heat blooming across his chest.
A warmth.
Not painful.
Soothing. Alive.
Fiery feathers curled around him—two radiant wings glowing like molten dawn. They gently wrapped his torso, and in seconds, the ache began to fade.
{Phoenix's Embrace Necklace
Healing Activation Detected
Remaining Fire Reserves: 90%}
Percy stared in awe at the golden glow across his chest.
"It's… healing me?"
He watched the wounds seal—pain ebbing into numbness, then nothing.
"Why now?" he asked aloud.
"I've trained with swords. Got beat up with wooden blades. Took hits. But it never activated."
He thought back to those moments—bruises, cracked ribs, practice sessions soaked in sweat and silence.
Nothing.
"The difference is obvious," Beta replied, tilting her head.
"You just need to answer one question."
She floated above him.
Waiting.
"What was different this time?"
He stared up at the sky—his breathing evening out.
And then… it clicked.
Not the force.
Not the spell.
The intention.
Beta smirked, her wings flickering faintly with ember-like glints.
"Precisely," she replied, pride lining her voice.
"During training, yes, you injured yourself. But your intention was always improvement, not survival. So the necklace didn't respond."
She floated upward, eyes glowing softly.
"The Phoenix Embrace reacts to intent. You never intended to be saved back then. Your focus was growth. But this time…"
Percy blinked, already seeing where this was going.
"Your instinct was to survive. Not to learn. Not to endure.
But to live."
He exhaled slowly.
"I see… but shouldn't the artifact function regardless of my mental state? Isn't that the point?"
Beta tilted her head.
"Mmm... a logical question. But artifacts are far more… alive than tools.
After the exam, I'll give you your first blacksmithing lesson. Consider this your preface."
She winked before dissolving back into light.
Percy stood, stretching his arms as the healing wings of fire faded, merging back into the necklace beneath his shirt. His bruises had vanished, and warmth lingered in his chest like a half-forgotten dream.
But the moment he staggered upright—Ava struck.
(He's dazed—NOW'S THE TIME!)
"Tsurugikin Sword Style – Second Form: Clash of the Thunderbeast!
Third Form: Snake Dance Strike!"
Her footwork surged forward, fire-imbued blade trailing arcs of heat. She moved with deadly elegance—four sweeping slashes followed by three flickering, serpentine strikes.
But Percy's eyes narrowed.
{Enhanced Sensory Field Active}
{Analyzing sword stance... Patterns memorized. Flaws detected. Generating corrected forms...}
He stepped into her rhythm—mirroring each slash in reverse.
(Left. Right. Right. Left—Thunderbeast, neutralized.)
(Parry. Parry. Disarm—Snake Dance, dismantled.)
Ava's form shattered in the instant he pressed his counter.
"Spatial Blast."
Percy released a wave of force point-blank.
Ava was flung backward, her stance collapsing as her boots scraped across the fragmented stone.
Percy turned immediately.
"Teleport."
He reappeared in front of Emma—who was already casting.
A familiar water barrier shimmered to life.
"You won't be able to touch me this time," she said, voice tight.
Percy's eyes flicked to hers. The air around him compressed.
"'Won't' is a strange word…
Almost as useless as 'can't'."
His tone dropped.
"And there's nothing I can't do."
"Spatial Bullet."
A flurry of compressed mana spheres launched toward her—pockets of warped space humming with suppressed devastation.
Emma gritted her teeth.
(DAMN IT!)
The bullets hit in waves—some absorbed, some punching through.
(SHIT, CAN'T—HOLD—ON—!)
She tried to reshape her barrier, to redirect, to cast again—but her mind buckled under the strain.
And then... silence.
Her legs gave out.
She collapsed to her knees, gasping—eyes wide, mana core flickering.
Percy walked toward her, crouched down, and gently retrieved her badge.
"Emma," he said, smiling faintly,
"It was a pleasure. Let's do it again sometime."
He crushed the badge in his hand.
A pulse of light overtook her body.
And in the next breath—she vanished.
"Emma Sabrelan – Final Rank: 10."
Helen's voice rang across the pocket realm.
Their blades and fists blurred.
Aria Klingenhart, sword steady and breath even, moved like a machine made for precision. Every cut, every shift in weight, every calculated feint—perfectly measured.
Mei Wugongshi, wreathed in wild firelight, struck with no rhythm—only instinct. Her movements were erratic, unpredictable, beautiful in their chaos.
Clash!
Crash!
CRACK—!
"You think discipline makes you strong?" Mei shouted mid-air, somersaulting over Aria's slash and dropping a flaming axe kick.
Aria raised her blade in time, blocking—but the sheer force made her knees buckle slightly.
"No," Aria said plainly, stepping into her next motion.
"Discipline is how strength becomes useful."
Mei twisted, spinning low and sweeping with her leg. Fire trailed behind her like a whip.
Aria jumped, flipping back mid-air and resetting her stance instantly.
"You fight like a wildfire," she continued.
"Uncontained. Unfocused."
"I fight to burn down everything in my way!" Mei roared.
"And what's left once there's nothing to burn?" Aria asked coldly.
Their auras ignited.
Aria's sword intent bloomed—refined, silvery-white light pulsing from the edge of her blade.
Mei's body ignited in a crown of fire—Phoenix Embers bursting along her arms, shoulders, and eyes.
"Flame Talon Blitz!" Mei yelled, her body launching like a comet—fists glowing, legs aflame.
"Klingenhart Sword Style – 3rd Form: Iron Reversal."
Aria met her mid-rush, twisting her stance, sword low.
They passed.
Two blurs in opposite directions.
Silence.
Then—
BOOM.
A shockwave of pressure burst outward, scattering dust, flame, and broken stone in all directions.
Mei skidded backward, knees bent, teeth bared in excitement.
Blood dripped from her temple, but she was smiling wide.
"Heh… damn, that almost split my skull. You're tougher than you look."
Aria didn't answer.
She stood tall, eyes sharp—a shallow cut across her cheek, but otherwise unshaken.
"You still lack focus," Aria said.
"But you're improving. That last form was… less sloppy."
Mei laughed through her panting.
"You give the coldest compliments. What are you, my mom?"
"No," Aria said flatly, blade rising once more.
"I'm your opponent."
Both of their auras surged.
Mei's flames grew denser, beginning to take the shape of phoenix wings behind her.Aria's sword heart pulsed deeper, her strikes humming with internal resonance.
One final exchange was coming.
They both knew it.
They didn't speak again.
Only stepped forward.