The referee raised his hand, his voice booming across the massive stone arena like a thunderclap: "Match over! The winner is Ray!"
The crowd’s roar gradually faded, replaced by a heavy, suffocating anticipation after
they witnessed the sudden and crushing fall of Valerian.
It was a spectacle that left the students breathless, their understanding of power completely shattered.
As the excitement settled into a restless hum, the referee signaled the next match: "Next match: Eldrik versus Noxians!"
From the east side of the arena, a young man stepped onto the stage—Eldrik.
With long, soft green hair and striking emerald eyes, he walked with a rhythmic,
grounded grace, as if his feet were tethered to the pulse of the earth itself.
He moved with a quiet confidence that hinted at a deep, primal connection to nature.
From the opposite side, Noxians emerged. His hair was black as a raven's wing, his eyes as dark as a moonless night, and he
moved with a cold, unsettling silence that seemed to swallow the light around him,
making him appear more like a shadow than a man.
The referee shouted: "Begin!"
Noxians wasted no time. He surged forward, unleashing a barrage of pulsating dark energy orbs.
They hissed through the air, vibrating with malevolent intent as they streaked toward Eldrik.
Eldrik stood his ground, calm and focused, slamming both palms into the stone floor.
Instantly, a quadruple-layered wooden shield erupted from the ground.
The orbs struck with visceral force; the first three layers were instantly incinerated, leaving behind charred, smoking splinters.
Eldrik’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the fourth layer beginning to corrode and
soften under the rotting influence of the dark magic.
Thinking quickly, Eldrik formed a crystal-hard wooden blade, deftly slicing off the
tainted portion of his shield where a black, acidic liquid oozed.
He channeled his mana to regenerate the lost wood, but instead of keeping it as a
stationary wall, he completely reshaped his strategy.
He wrapped the fibers around his own body, weaving them with incredible speed until he was encased in a thick, flexible
layer of hardened, bark-like armor that acted as a second, impenetrable skin.
He scanned the arena for Noxians, but the boy had vanished into thin air, seemingly
blending into the dark corners of the battlefield.
Suddenly, Eldrik’s instincts flared—a cold, paralyzing shiver traced his spine.
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He sensed a shift in the air pressure directly behind him, a subtle disturbance in the ambient mana.
He didn't look back; he simply threw his weight forward, leaping ahead as he spun around.
Just as he turned, Noxians emerged from the shadows like a ghost, his hands
glowing with a lethal, vibrating blade of pure darkness.
The attack was swift, precise, and brutal, piercing through the outer layer of Eldrik’s wooden armor and striking him deep in the shoulder.
The Dark Blade is potent, Noxians thought to himself, his breath coming in shallow,
rhythmic gasps as he maintained his combat stance.
But it consumes an immense amount of mana and requires those few precious,
agonizing seconds to charge—seconds that can define a match.
If Eldrik hadn’t been so preoccupied with reinforcing his armor and playing defensively, I never would have landed
such a clean, decisive hit, turning the tide in my favor this quickly.
Eldrik retreated, nursing his shoulder as blood began to drip onto the arena floor, sizzling slightly where it touched the ground.
His expression remained grimly focused.
He slammed his hand down, and the arena floor groaned.
Thick, jagged roots erupted from the stone, lashing out like whips.
Noxians evaded the onslaught with impressive agility, dodging and weaving through the wooden tentacles.
But Eldrik was playing a longer game.
He had fashioned a heavy, dense wooden trunk into the shape of a massive, spiraling drill.
As he pulled it toward him, he purposefully allowed his blood to soak into the wood.
The trunk glowed with a terrifying, pulsing light, turning a deep, visceral crimson.
My injury will weaken me over time; I must end this now, Eldrik thought.
He launched the blood-enhanced drill toward Noxians with a guttural roar, the
projectile cutting through the air with a deafening whistle.
Noxians stood perfectly still, eyes locked onto the weapon.
Just as the rotating drill was inches away from his face, he activated his signature spell.
"Shadow Step."
He instantly dissolved into a plume of dense smoke and reappeared right in front of Eldrik.
Noxians attacked, but Eldrik reacted with lightning speed, manifesting a sharp wooden blade to parry the strike.
However, the initial clash was merely a distraction.
Before Eldrik could recover, Noxians materialized again, pressing a sword
forged of pure dark energy firmly against Eldrik’s throat.
It seems the sword strike was just a feint, Eldrik realized with a heavy heart. This is truly my defeat.
"Match over," the referee announced, his voice echoing in the sudden, stunned silence. "Winner: Noxians."
Noxians sheathed his blade with a mechanical, emotionless flick and exited the arena, while Eldrik headed to the
infirmary to tend to his shoulder, gritting his teeth against the sting of defeat.
Archion watched from the stands, his eyes narrowing in cold appraisal.
Noxians possesses talent that is rarely seen in this era.
He is raw, unrefined, but he has the potential to become the strongest dark
magic user and the true successor to Laibos.
I must find a way to recruit him; he will be an invaluable asset to my future plans.
Archion leaned back, watching the medical team tend to Eldrik, his gaze lingering on the boy's resilience.
Even in defeat, Eldrik’s potential was high, but Noxians
represented a raw, dark power that Archion desperately needed to cultivate.
He began to calculate how he could seize these opportunities with higher efficiency,
his mind mapping out the shifting loyalties of the academy.
He knew that the tournament was merely a stage for scouting; he already knew
exactly who was worth his investment.
Ray, sitting beside him, was lost in his own twisted reverie.
Eldrik has good talent and would be useful, but Noxians... his potential is far greater.
I want him. He would make an excellent addition to my collection.
But how do I get him? Oh, right—I have those two specific forbidden arts.
He won't be able to resist the urge to learn these techniques. Hehehe.
Ray snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed Archion’s intense, calculating gaze fixed on Noxians.
He leaned in with a sharp, predatory smirk.
"So," Ray asked, his voice dripping with mock curiosity, "what do you think of him?
He has a natural aptitude for dark magic—a rarity, wouldn't you agree?"
Archion shifted his gaze slowly toward Ray, his expression unreadable.
"He is talented," Archion replied, his voice devoid of warmth.
"But talent is nothing without the right direction."
Ray chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "Direction? Perhaps.
Or perhaps he just needs a better teacher."
The air between them grew heavy, charged
with unspoken agendas and the clash of future ambitions.
Archion knew that Ray was a wild card that threatened the delicate balance he had built.
If he could control Ray, he would be a useful tool; if not, his presence could jeopardize everything.
Meanwhile, the crowd continued to murmur about the day's results, completely unaware of the intense power
struggle and the cold, calculated planning unfolding right beside them.