At the other end of the courtyard, far from the tactical confrontation that had just exhausted Issa, the turmoil showed no sign of fading.
Kaïs Trabelsi stumbled backward, his boots sliding across the shattered stone tiles.
A clean thrust had just torn through his collar at the level of his left shoulder.
Facing him, Kazuki Endo advanced with unsettling ease.
The masked lieutenant did not run: he glided between the debris.
His dark saber emitted a sharp, continuous hum with every movement.
Kazuki’s power enhanced his weapon with an invisible vibrational edge that cleaved through the air without meeting the slightest resistance.
The assassin did not merely cut flesh or stone: he sliced through the air currents themselves.
Kaïs’s detonations, based on compressing the surrounding air, had found their worst possible opponent.
Kaïs gritted his teeth, refusing to give in to the burning pain of his wound.
The surrounding air had become suffocating because of Morgen’s crimson receptacle, making every breath difficult.
“Take this!” he shouted, bringing his open hands together.
He released a compact blast, a brutal shockwave meant to sweep everything away over several meters.
But Kazuki did not flinch.
With a clean swing, he brought his weapon down from above.
The gust was literally split in two.
The explosive blast grazed the swordsman’s sides before pulverizing the stone columns behind him.
At the center, Kazuki remained untouched.
The rush of air caused by the attack even pulled the attacker forward, bringing him into immediate contact with the student.
A sharp strike from the hilt to the stomach knocked the breath out of Kaïs, followed by a quick slash across his right thigh, sweeping his legs out from under him.
The boy dropped to his knees, coughing up a thin stream of scarlet blood.
Without Leila’s support to soothe his battered organs, the backlash from his own charges was beginning to suffocate him.
Kazuki raised his blade, his expression cold.
“Your power makes too much noise,” the killer murmured in a monotone voice.
“That’s what makes you predictable.” The blade came down to cut him apart, but it never reached its target.
A blinding flash of lightning shot from the rooftops and struck the side of the saber, creating a hairline crack in the dark steel.
The electrical shock numbed Kazuki’s right arm, forcing him to break the engagement with a backward leap and restore his guard.
“He’s right.
You make a lot of wind for very little result,” a mocking voice called out.
Kaïs raised his eyes, barely able to breathe.
Raad Charara had just landed on the pavement after leaping from the technical walkway, thin sparks crawling across his fingers.
Despite the general panic and the defeat of the instructors, the way he held his head betrayed an insolent confidence.
Beside him, Soura Sayal stepped forward without making a sound.
Unlike his companion, Soura bent his knees, anchoring his weight into the ground.
Thin ribbons of water swirled around his wrists, although the fluid struggled to survive in the arid atmosphere.
His sharp eyes remained fixed on Kazuki’s stance.
“His right arm is still compensating for the discharge,” Soura observed quietly.
“He’s fast, but his muscles retain water.
I can predict every one of his movements before he strikes.” Stung by wounded pride, Kaïs leaned against a slab to pull himself upright.
“I didn’t ask you for anything!” he spat between coughs.
“I had it under control!” Raad shot him a contemptuous look.
“Stay seated, short fuse.
Let those who know how to aim handle the cleanup.” “Who are you calling short fuse, you arrogant bastard?!” Kaïs snapped, ready to unleash another discharge.
Soura raised an arm to cut the argument short.
The assassin had just rotated his weapon to dissipate the residual current, returning to a perfect sideways stance.
“Shut up, both of you,” Soura said sharply.
“That guy swept aside the Academy’s defenses without breaking a sweat.
If we keep acting proud and fighting separately, he’s going to cut us into pieces.” The warning brought the two back to their senses.
Kazuki waited, expressionless.
“I don’t need help!” Kaïs insisted, supporting himself on his good leg.
“Try standing without collapsing first,” Raad mocked.
The two boys lunged forward in the same chaotic burst.
Raad fired a direct lightning spear toward the opponent’s chest while Kaïs sent a compressed sphere of air sweeping toward his feet.
The result was disastrous: Kaïs’s blast deflected Raad’s lightning bolt, which exploded against a wall, blinding them both.
Kazuki took advantage of the opening to appear in their blind spot.
With the back of his scabbard, he struck Kaïs’s injured knee, sending him crashing to the ground, then blocked Raad’s lightning-charged fist before delivering a powerful kick to his torso that sent the lightning wielder flying ten meters.
“You’re getting in each other’s way.
Pathetic,” the swordsman declared as he raised his weapon to finish them off.
“Left!” Soura shouted.
The assassin sensed the threat too late.
Having read the tension in Kazuki’s muscles, Soura had already predicted his landing point and positioned himself there.
His palm, surrounded by heavy water, slammed into the swordsman’s side.
Although the blade sliced through the fluid, the force of the impact made the attacker stagger.
“Raad, strike from the right!” Soura ordered.
“Aim for the ground, not him!” Raad understood the intention and fired an electrical bolt into the pavement.
The stone slab exploded into sharp fragments, sweeping the swordsman’s footing away.
At the same time, Kaïs released an upward blast beneath the assassin’s soles.
Disoriented for the first time, Kazuki was forced to retreat with a fluid leap.
His cold eyes assessed the trio: the boy with the explosive discharges was out of breath but dangerous, the lightning shooter was unpredictable, and above all, the water wielder anticipated every movement of his body.
Continuing this battle of attrition risked compromising the overall plan.
“I have no more time to waste on you.
Morgen will finish the job,” Kazuki said coldly.
With a sharp strike against the pavement, the vibrations of his blade shattered the ground, raising an opaque curtain of dust.
When the view cleared, the swordsman had vanished into the corridors.
Soura relaxed his stance and extended a hand toward Kaïs.
After a second of hesitation, the injured student grasped the offered palm and pulled himself back to his feet.
But the calm did not last.
At the other end of the courtyard, the atmosphere continued to rumble.
Goman Arashi, his silver hair standing on end under the intensity of his power, maintained a crushing protective zone.
His uniform was torn and his face was drenched in sweat, but his gaze still carried a haughty ferocity.
Facing him, Albert Thorne roared in anger after the fall of his companion Roen.
Although his water power suffered under the extreme dryness of the surrounding atmosphere, he hurled spiraling torrents capable of piercing stone like cardboard.
“Die, little noble!” Albert roared as he gathered an enormous battering ram of boiling water.
“Your water is useless against my power.
I’ll make you regret attacking the Academy,” Goman replied with disdain.
The heir of the Arashi clan clenched his fist.
Instantly, the weight of the air surrounding the projectile became titanic.
Unable to maintain its cohesion under the invisible pressure, the liquid mass collapsed in midair, transforming into harmless mist before it could even reach the student’s defenses.
Goman gave a mocking smile, reminding everyone why the Five Great Families dominated this world.
Yet his confidence faltered when an icy presence tightened around his throat.
Having detached himself from the unconscious professors, the man with the crimson receptacle fixed the young aristocrat with his lifeless eyes.
An heir of one of the great bloodlines…
Now that is a far more instructive specimen to study.