The next five minutes of battle passed very fast.
...And Leo was down.
Yeah, one of the two stars of the Velcrest Academy was down.
Leo body was blown away from the explosion that happened when he closed the distance between himself and Kai to take him down.
But this dream space was Kai domain, he could control everything and as soon as he was near him, Kai turned the very ground that Leo stood into explosion that took him out.
Leo was down and he wasn't going to wake.
But fortunately he wasn't dead.
I also noticed something while observing the fight, This dream space is his domain and yet he's seems can't control anything.
Or should I say most of thing?
Kai has set a perfect trap, but he's talent wasn't enough to use it constantly.
That's why, whenever he had control the dream space, there was interval.
That's why he couldn't kill anyone instantly, otherwise he would have done as soon as he revealed himself.
This was good thing for us for sure.
"...One down," Kai muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed on Leo for a heartbeat longer before snapping back to Ryen.
Ryen didn't scream.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't even blink.
He just stepped forward.
Alone now.
One sword. One breath. One heartbeat.
His shadow stretched long across the broken ground, distorted by the sickly glow of Kai's magic. The tension in the air coiled tighter and tighter, like a string pulled to its breaking point.
Kai tilted his head.
"Oh? No witty remarks? No declarations of justice or revenge?"
Ryen didn't answer.
Instead, he shifted his stance.
Kai's smile wavered, just a bit.
Then—Ryen moved.
Fast. Fluid. Precise.
A single slash. Silver light trailing behind his blade like the arc of a falling star.
Kai raised his staff just in time—clang!
The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the ruined arena. Dust exploded outward, cracks spiderwebbing beneath their feet.
But Ryen wasn't done.
He spun, ducked low, and unleashed a flurry of slashes in rapid succession—clean, controlled, relentless.
Kai parried, barely. His staff rang with every impact, glowing with defensive enchantments. But he was being pushed back.
Step by step.
Slash by slash.
This wasn't just raw strength.
This was swordsmanship.
Technique sharpened to its limit.
Ryen's movements flowed like water—each strike feeding into the next, no wasted motion, no hesitation. His blade sang through the air, a rhythm of defiance and fury.
Kai clicked his tongue.
"Enough."
He slammed his staff into the ground.
A pulse of magic exploded outward, dark and twisted. The ground cracked, a wave of corrupted energy rippling through the arena.
Ryen leapt back, avoiding the worst of it—but his footing faltered slightly.
Kai seized the opening.
With a flick of his wrist, five black chains erupted from the ground, snaking toward Ryen like serpents. They hissed through the air, faster than arrows.
But—
Clang. Slash. Crack.
Ryen's blade moved faster.
He cut through the first chain.
Dodged the second.
Spun and shattered the third with a reverse slash.
Ryen was moving fast, so fast that Kai Foster was very hard time in attacking him more then before.
Kai was getting annoyed, very much.
His artifacts that were once invincible seems to be nothing now in front of Ryen and that didn't suit very well with Kai Foster
It was like entire situation has been changed.
At this time, Kai couldn't control his expression behind that mask.
He took a step forward.
The shadows at his feet curled outward like tendrils, responding to his movements.
Another step.
Another pulse of dark energy.
"You will die alongside with everyone else here."
Kai's eyes gleamed with defiance as he raised his staff again.
"I am not. You will be the one facing that fate."
Ryen.
The protagonist of this world. The one who was supposed to rise above all odds.
'Ryen talent was special.'
Ryen's talent was something special, especially when compared to Leo's Weapon Master ability, even though both of their talents were ranked the same.
The name of Ryen's ability? The Holy Sword of Justice.
It was an A-rank talent, but not in the same way Leo's was.
Where Leo's Weapon Master talent was simple, direct, and powerful, Ryen's was unique.
Every action he performed with a sword was buffed. His strikes were faster, more precise. And any object he recognized as a sword, as a "sword" was fair game.
Steel, wood, bone—if Ryen called it a sword, then it became one.
And his talent would treat it accordingly.
But that wasn't the true reason Kai feared him.
No. The real terror came from the second part of Ryen's talent—
Justice.
A concept most dismissed as romantic nonsense. But not here.
Not with this talent.
Because the moment Ryen deemed someone an enemy of justice, the system tilted in his favor. His blade would strike truer, his instincts would sharpen, and his body would move faster.
It was as if the world itself bent just a little to help him bring down those it judged unworthy.
And right now, Ryen had chosen him.
Ryen's boots crunched against the fractured ground.
He didn't blink.
Didn't breathe too hard.
Didn't hesitate.
The dust still clung to his uniform, blood smeared along his temple, and his arm—slightly trembling—held the blade like it was part of him.
No fear.
Only resolve.
"You talk too much," Ryen said quietly.
Then—he lunged.
Faster than before.
Faster than Kai could process.
A single flash—silver against black.
Kai barely raised his staff. Sparks flew as metal met reinforced wood, enchantments screaming under the pressure. The ground beneath them buckled, the arena groaning like it was about to collapse under the weight of their power.
And then—
Ryen twisted.
He shifted the momentum mid-strike, turning what should've been a direct blow into a feint.
Kai stumbled forward.
Too late to adjust.
Slash.
A clean cut across Kai's side—through the reinforced robe, through layers of enchantment.
Blood splattered across the ground.
Kai gasped.
He stumbled back, clutching his ribs. The runes etched into his robe flickered—failing, glitching, struggling to absorb the force of that hit.
"...Impossible," he whispered, voice strained with pain. "That cut through three layers of shielding…"
Ryen's blade gleamed, coated in faint silver light.
Focused.
Precise.
He wasn't just attacking.
He was aiming.
Reading.
Countering.
Like a swordsman, yes.
But more than that—like a hunter.
And Kai?
He was the prey.
"You're not the only one who's been through hell," Ryen said, voice low and cold. "You're not the only one who fought to survive."
Kai's grip on his staff tightened. His mask hid most of his face—but not the rage burning in his eyes.
"Shut up," he snarled.
The ground quaked again as he summoned another surge of dark mana. Shadows burst outward, forming claws, blades, tendrils—every dark spell he could conjure without chanting. The arena became a storm of darkness.
And yet—
Ryen stepped in.
Through the chaos.
Dodging.
Cutting.
Enduring.
He charged straight through the black tempest, his blade dragging silver arcs through the magic as if carving a path through night itself.
And then—he was in front of Kai.
Too close.
Far too close.
He struck.
SLASH—!!!
A perfect diagonal slash aimed at the heart.
"Ahhhh!"
Kai roared and raised his staff again, but he was too slow. The blade cut through the staff's shaft like it was paper.
Kai's eyes widened.
Crack.
The staff snapped in half, and the magic around him shattered like glass.
Silence.
Ryen stood over him, sword lowered.
Kai fell to one knee, the broken halves of his staff clattering to the floor. His body shook—not just from pain, but from disbelief.
He'd lost.
Not to talent.
Not to privilege.
But to skill.
To growth.
To someone who had suffered—and kept going.
Ryen raised his blade again, breath steady, eyes cold.
But he didn't swing.
Not yet.
Instead, he said, "You think we're soft because we were born lucky?"
His eyes narrowed.
"Maybe. But we're not weak."
The point of his sword hovered inches from Kai's throat.
"Yield. Or I finish it."
Kai looked up at him.
His breathing was ragged. Blood dripped from his side. Shadows flickered weakly at his fingertips, barely holding shape.
And for a brief moment, something flickered in his gaze.
Not hatred.
Not fury.
But something far more dangerous.
A smile.
"You think this is over?"
Then—his hand twitched.
Ryen sensing something was wrong immediately jump backward.
Then the space around me started to tremble and I quickly looked at the source of the trembling.
Kai Foster.
He was using magic.
Like I said, you can't use magic here but that rule doesn't apply on Kai because he is the one who created this dream space in the first place.
....And not only that
"That bastard wasn't even using his own magic anymore. He was leaning entirely on the dream space he created."
By using the dream space—his domain—he was enhancing his magic far beyond its natural limits.
And that spell… I recognized it instantly.
Deathflame.
A devastating 6th-tier fire spell. One that burned not just the body—but the soul.
It was a suicide spell, pure and simple.
Anyone sane wouldn't even dare to touch it, let alone cast it inside their own domain.
But Kai Foster?
He wasn't sane. He was a lunatic—a monster who had committed terrorist attacks just to relieve his stress.
So of course, to relieve his stress, he'd do it again.
Even if it meant burning everything to the ground with 6th-tier Deathflame.
The crimson light began to leak from the cracks in the ground, veins of molten energy spreading outward like wildfire. The temperature skyrocketed. The air turned heavy, suffocating.
My lungs burned with every breath.
Even from where I stood—far behind Ryen—the sheer heat clawed at my skin like molten iron.
I could feel it.
The spell was alive.
Like the dream itself was bleeding, writhing, screaming.
And in the center of it all stood Kai Foster, arms spread wide, the broken pieces of his staff floating around him as if drawn by some invisible force. His mask cracked down the middle, revealing a sliver of a smile beneath.
"Do you feel it?" he said softly, voice shaking with something between ecstasy and madness. "The end of everything."
The flames around him deepened from red to black.
It wasn't normal fire anymore—it was Deathflame, the kind that devoured mana, life, and even memories. Once unleashed, it would consume the entire dreamscape.
Gone.
Everything—Ryen, Leo, the cadets, me—all of us would be erased in seconds.
Ryen's eyes widened as he realized it too.
"Everyone, fall back!" he shouted, his voice breaking through the roar of the rising inferno. "Now!"
But it was too late.
The explosion was already starting to form.
The air trembled. The entire space warped as the Deathflame's core condensed—an orb of pulsating, chaotic energy. The ground beneath Kai cracked, melted, and caved inward like it was being swallowed by hell itself.
"Shit!" I hissed under my breath. My mana surged instinctively, flaring weakly, but it was useless.
Even if Ryen used every ounce of strength he had, he wouldn't be able to stop this.
He couldn't even escape it.
No one could.
Deathflame wasn't a spell you survived—it was a spell you vanished in.
The temperature climbed higher. The world started to blur, colors bleeding together. My vision swam.
I could feel my body trembling, my instincts screaming at me to move, to run—but there was nowhere left to go.
Kai's laughter echoed across the dying world.
"Let's see," he whispered, voice trembling with twisted delight, "how your justice fares… against extinction."
There were few more seconds, maybe 10 or 15 seconds at best, after that it will be all over.
...And I don't want to die!
It's time for my entry in the stage!.