Thief Crown was cornered, his steps guided onto the frozen zone.
Rokan swung Bloodfang in a lethal arc, while Seraphine closed in from the opposite direction.
But the wind, which had been still until now, suddenly gathered into one, creating an eerie silence. Then—*BOOM!* A radial explosion of wind shattered the ice, throwing everyone within a five-meter radius off their feet.
It wasn't just a gust—it was a blast of compressed pressure released in an instant.
Seraphine staggered, her knees buckling.
Andras was thrown against a wall, gasping for air.
Only Khael Dray remained standing, unshaken, his shield steady. His eyes fixed on Thief Crown.
"Thief Crown…" Khael's voice was hoarse, as if uttering the name of a ghost he'd once encountered on the battlefield.
The thief merely inclined his head slightly. His movements were unhurried, yet with each step, an invisible pressure weighed down, as if the space around him had narrowed. Without warning, the floor beneath their feet cracked.
But his plan was thwarted—a new layer of earth emerged, thanks to students chanting earth magic.
Thief Crown was already moving. He didn't run—he vanished. In truth, his body was propelled by a vortex of wind he'd created behind his back, making his movement lightning-fast yet without a single footstep. In the blink of an eye, he was at Khael Dray's right side.
Another blade of wind formed in his hand—not a sword, not a knife, but a line as sharp and thin as a hair, nearly invisible. Khael Dray parried; a brief spark of light flashed in the air as his metal shield clashed with the solidified wind.
Eve Lorne seized the moment, forming chains of ice. But every chain that approached shattered before even touching Thief Crown. The air around him spun so rapidly it created a barrier that repelled all solid matter. The ice crumbled into fragments before it could bind him.
The shattered ice didn't disappear—instead, Dex controlled it, turning it back toward Eve Lorne.
But before he could strike, another OSIS member appeared behind the thief. A spear user, Marin Ves, thrust from a distance with the *Lunge of the Piercing Moon* technique. His spear shot forth with sonic speed. Thief Crown twisted his wrist, and a gust of wind from the side forced the spear's trajectory to veer a few centimeters—enough to make it strike the wall instead of his body. Yet the grazing blow still managed to wound Thief Crown severely.
As if that weren't enough.
From the left, a young mage, Reika Solenne, had already prepared a *Graviton Pull* spell. The space around Thief Crown suddenly contracted toward a single point, disrupting his wind vortex. For a fraction of a second, his speed decreased.
Rokan didn't waste the opening. His sword spun, cutting diagonally from shoulder to waist. This was no ordinary strike—it was the *Demon's Sever* technique, using the weight of the greatsword to crush not just flesh, but also the opponent's defensive energy.
Unfortunately, the gravity field also slowed Rokan's sword, allowing Thief Crown to easily evade it.
Every attack was a series of feints, traps, and terrain manipulation. No movement was wasted, no strike made without reason. Thief Crown wasn't trying to defeat them one by one—he was exhausting them by making them fight the very air itself.
"Crazy bastard…" Seraphine muttered.
***
The battle turned into a chase.
Thief Crown raced across the rooftops, each leap aided by sudden gusts of wind beneath his feet. His movements weren't just fast—they were nearly impossible to predict. One moment he leaped straight forward, the next his body twisted and he dove in another direction, as if he could manipulate his own gravity.
Other OSIS members spread out. Lynelle, a third-year mage, cast a restraining spell in the form of a net of light. The net fell from the sky, trying to block Thief Crown's escape route. But the whirlwind protecting him shattered the net into small flashes that quickly faded.
From the west, Instructor Elmar Voss, a bare-handed fighter, struck the ground with his fist. An explosion of earth and stone fragments shot toward Thief Crown from the side. But before the debris could reach him, the wind formed a kind of shield that deflected everything away from his path. Not enough—a fist aimed at his face.
Dex created a powerful wind vortex in his palm and caught the punch, reducing its impact while injuring Instructor Elmar's arm.
Instructor Velin Treum raised his hand, directing thousands of flying swords that seemed to come from nowhere. The swords managed to pierce through Dex's wind barrier, but though they succeeded, their power weakened. Thanks to his wind magic movements, he avoided any critical hits, though his legs and arms suffered cuts that significantly reduced his mobility.
"Restrict his movement," Rokan growled, striding steadily toward the center of the battle. "We need to break his control over the wind."
Walls of ice, fire, and earth—layered enclosures left Dex with nowhere to move. Chains clamped around his legs, and an arrow aimed straight at his head. Just as Dex was about to unleash his magic, his hands were trapped by creeping vines.
A sword slash from two instructors and dozens of arrows aimed at him left Dex helpless. Though he managed to avoid them, a *Volcano Punch* was already poised to strike him, and thousands of sharp thorns and swords above his head dashed any hope of survival.
Added to that, the earlier lightning butterfly spell had left his wrists numb.
In the face of hopeless death, Thief Crown still smiled.
Swords, arrows, thorns, and magic tore through Dex's body—but instead of blood, what spilled out was a gust of wind.
When they reached the point where he fell, all that remained was an empty crystal stone on the roof—a perfect replica of the Aurora's Crown. The original? Gone.
Andras gritted his teeth. "Dammit, it's a trap."
A bright light shone toward the academy's storage room—a sign that its defensive spells had been activated.
Everyone tried to turn back, but they had exhausted all their energy in the previous battle. The distance was too great—even if they made it, the thief would have already vanished.
"Dammit!" Seraphine slashed her sword at the fake gem, causing the area around it to explode. Her usual dignity seemed to have vanished.
Andras sat atop the tower—he knew pursuit was useless. His gaze was sharp, filled with frustration.
The situation wasn't much different for the other instructors. They helped the students injured in the battle, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and grim acceptance. The night had been lost to a phantom.