The tension cracked like a whip.
"Everyone! Move back!" Zeke barked, his voice cutting through the cold forest air.
The gathered students scrambled, feet crunching against the dirt and leaves as they widened the space, forming a rough perimeter some thirty meters back. All eyes locked on the two figures now standing at the center of a ghost-silent battlefield—Zeke, calm as still water, and Kaito, a storm barely held together.
Kaito moved first. His blade arm—a jagged, obsidian-hilted sword fused to the stump from his recent loss—sliced through the air in a violent arc. Zeke met it with his left hand, parrying cleanly, the movement fluid like water folding around stone. Blade met flesh, but Zeke didn't bleed. He twisted, turned, sidestepped—a dance of control and grace.
The battle had begun.
Slash. Stab. Slash again.
Kaito came like a beast unchained, roaring, lunging, tearing through the distance. His swings were furious, his blade wild yet deadly precise. Zeke was always a second ahead, his movements a breath away from perfection. His left hand met each attack with cold precision, fingers curling and shifting like a master conductor leading an orchestra of violence.
A slash came high. Zeke ducked low. A thrust followed. Zeke twisted, knocking the blade away.
Then—
Kaito feinted a swing and punched.
Fist slammed into Zeke's chest. The impact cracked like thunder. Zeke staggered back a step, the wind knocked from him. He coughed once… then laughed.
Kaito's eyes burned with a mix of rage and desperation. "Don't laugh at me! This isn't a game, Zeke!" he snarled, breathing ragged. "My sister's out there, and we're wasting time with this bullshit!"
Zeke tilted his head, grinning even as he rubbed the spot where the punch landed. "Wasting time? You're the one swinging like a lunatic. You wanted this."
Kaito screamed, rushing forward again.
But this time, Zeke let his sword fall to the ground.
Gasps rippled through the onlookers.
Zeke moved. No blade. No shield. Only his feet and his body. He stepped through Kaito's swings like he belonged between them—weightless, unbothered, graceful. Every motion displayed the growth of his footwork over the past week: duck, weave, sidestep, pivot. The wind seemed to bend for him. He didn't block anymore—he justwasn't there.
Kaito shouted in frustration, "Do you only know how to dodge, coward?!"
Zeke let out a low chuckle and finally raised his fist. Slowly.
From the side, Rian's face drained of color.
"Oh no," he whispered. "Ahhh, not this again... Kaito, you idiot—MOVE! Look at his hand!"
Kaito faltered. Mid-charge, he blinked, clarity piercing the haze. His gaze shifted to Zeke's hand, pulled back and coiled like a serpent ready to strike. Zeke stared at him, eyes dancing with amusement.
Kaito's rage crumbled into fear. "Z-Zeke… wait. I'm awake now. I was out of line. Please—"
His voice cracked.
"Please don't."
He sounded… young. Scared. Like a child on the edge of punishment. Every student around the field froze. Even the wind stopped, as if unsure how to carry the sound.
Professors watching from above on the observation platform shared looks of stunned disbelief.
"The hell?" one muttered. "That boy—he was a wild animal moments ago."
"Aall he did was raise his hand," said another, eyes narrowed.
"He seems quite timid," another whispered. "Theres no mana in that hand its just a punch."
Rian understood, one of the only few present who could. And suddenly, he pitied Kaito, even more than before.
Zeke's gaze softened. "I'm not good with words," he said coolly. "So take my fist instead."
Kaito panicked. Mana exploded around him as he screamed, forming a shimmering, half-solidified shield in front of his trembling body. It was crude, unstable—but it was something.
Above, a silver-bearded professor nodded. "Impressive. He formed a mana shield instinctively"
Another adjusted their glasses. "He's scared out of his mind, but I don't detect any mana fluctuations from Zeke's arm."
"Right? It looks like a normal punch."
That's when the man in the center—quiet until now—stepped forward.
The aloof speaker. The one Zeke presumed to be the Headmaster.
His expression turned serious.
"This energy…" he murmured. "Is this what Master told us about?"
Back on the ground—
Zeke punched.
Nothing happened.
"Huh?"
A student in the back blinked. "Why did Kaito react like that?"
"Hey, Rian, why are you—"
Boom!
The speaker was cut off by the explosion of air and sound.
Heads snapped back to the fight. Every pair of eyes widened.
Zeke stood, arm still extended.
Kaito stood across from him, untouched.
But behind Kaito…
The trees.
Every tree in a straight line from Zeke's punch had been obliterated. Splintered. Erased. For fifty meters, the forest had been turned into debris.
Gasps echoed.
One boy dropped his staff.
One girl sat down, legs giving out.
A professor's monocle fell into the dirt.
"Third-year level… at least," one murmured.
"No… higher. But what technique was that? I saw no casting signs."
"Nor a chant. Or rune."
The Headmaster chuckled. "Of course not. That's because it wasn't mana." He smiled, eyes twinkling. "Well… not just mana. Keep watching."
Back below—
Zeke slowly lowered his arm.
The gesture alone made everyone flinch, as if he'd drawn a cannon.
Rian exhaled finally. "That's good," he muttered. "He didn't go too hard."
Zeke looked at Kaito, voice calm, almost fond.
"Have a good sleep, Kaito. Cool off."
Kaito, still standing, eyes glassy and face pale but a bitter expression present, stood frozen in place.
Then—
He swayed.
His lips twitched.
"…F—fuck you, Zeke."
And he collapsed.
Unconscious. Alive. But utterly defeated.
Zeke turned to the watching crowd, unfazed.
"Umm..anyone mind fixing him?"
He gestured lazily at Kaito's crumpled body
A few students laughed nervously. No one moved.
Zeke glanced at the silence, then added with a faint smirk.
"Come on. He's not dead—just sleeping."