Two days later.
Even though the weather was rather dreary, casting a dull gloom over the sky even in the afternoon, the royal capital of Ikerite was bustling with unprecedented fervor this Friday. Citizens and visitors alike converged on the grounds near Ikerite Academy.
A long-awaited public event hosted by Ikerite Academy was finally taking place.
Coupled with extensive promotion by the School of Alchemy's Hutton Times, vast throngs of royal capital residents turned out to see the spectacle.
Not only were tickets to the School of Knights' Arena completely sold out, but even the edges of Jera Memorial Square—where the broadcast was being screened—were packed to the brim with onlookers, leaving not an inch of open ground in the sprawling plaza.
The giant outdoor screen was broadcasting live footage of the venue.
The camera swept from high above over the magnificent arena, surrounded by security forces maintaining public order and ensuring the safety of the citizens gathered for this massive event.
Inside the colossal amphitheater, spectators poured in from every direction along the tiered walkways, all eager to witness the dazzling team combat match that was about to unfold.
Those already seated were in high spirits, their voices bubbling into a deafening roar as wave after wave of cheers resonated across the arena's open dome.
In the staging area on the left side of the grounds, the team from Aloran Royal Academy stood fully prepared. Dressed in crisp, matching uniforms, their athletes smiled and waved to the crowd, their eyes gleaming with razor-sharp determination born of absolute confidence in victory. Behind them on the bench, their lead professor and coach sat with folded arms, eyes closed in calm repose.
The colossal screen suspended from one side of the arena displayed profile cards for both participating teams. Every athlete was pictured wearing a bright, sunny smile, and paired with the thunderous, rousing battle anthems playing overhead, the atmosphere surged to a fever pitch.
Up above, three deans of Ikerite Academy sat at the referees' box.
They were Dean Loren of the School of Sages, Dean Borao of the School of Magic Engineering, and Dean Sphintos of the School of Knights.
As for the Dean of the School of Alchemy, he was still in prison.
"Master Sphintos, is this match really going to be all right?"
Loren's face was fraught with unease.
He had thought they were about to send the visiting students of Aloran Royal Academy off in peace, only for this theatrical grand finale to crop up right at the eleventh hour.
To make matters worse, word had reached him that Lanqi was personally taking up the post of coach for the Soul of the Fighter team on behalf of the student council.
Loren had not seen Lanqi for two full days, and he was terrified that Lanqi was about to pull off some colossal nightmare.
"They're youngsters—it's normal for them to have a bit of spitfire and make some noise. If anything goes sideways, blame it on me."
The old man seated on the far left appeared to be past seventy, but standing at least a towering meter-ninety in height, he cut a formidable figure in his black suit. Allowing his greying hair to tumble carelessly over his eyes, he wore an utterly nonchalant grin.
"We made a fortune on ticket sales and ad revenue. I take forty percent; you two get thirty each."
Professor Borao raised no objection, nodding with quiet satisfaction.
"..."
Loren had nothing left to say. He could only pray that Lanqi would behave like a decent human being this time.
Below their elevated stand, even before the match had commenced, the arena was already boiling over like a volcano primed to erupt. Every spectator eagerly counted down to the top of the hour, waiting to detonate the explosive martial contest.
In the front rows of the stands near the dueling stage.
Two light-haired young women sat side by side—one completely expressionless, the other laced with mild anxiety.
"Tata, I haven't seen Lanqi in two days. I'm getting a little scared..."
Hyperion clasped the hand of Talia beside her, her voice trembling slightly.
As an insider of the student council, Hyperion had easily secured front-row tickets with the best viewing angle.
Surrounding them were all familiar faces.
Everyone was happily spectating the drama, eager to watch the world burn.
Even Lanqi's father, Noe, sat in the row behind them thoroughly enjoying himself, munching on snacks as he leaned back casually in his seat, eagerly awaiting the show.
Ever since Lanqi agreed to conduct special training for the Soul of the Fighter team, he had sent Hyperion and Frey back to report to the president while he took the fighters off alone to some undisclosed location for 'professional guidance.'
By all accounts, the Holy Trio had only been overhauled by Lanqi for a single day, and that was in an 'edutainment' format.
Hyperion dared not fathom what would happen if Lanqi conducted two solid days of intensive, solitary remodeling.
"There's nothing to be afraid of,"
Talia remarked in a flat, indifferent tone.
She could never understand why Hyperion spent all day worrying over trivial matters.
That Lanqi fellow couldn't possibly overturn the heavens; she could crush him under her heel whenever she pleased.
Talia took no pleasure in watching spectacles, and she disliked crowded venues even more.
Yet because Hyperion cared so deeply about this match, Talia had accompanied her—and she figured she might as well see what sort of mischief Lanqi had cooked up.
Across the arena on another section of the stands.
A young woman with deep crimson hair looked down at the arena floor, her expression tangled with conflict.
Her long, dark crimson locks now cascaded loosely over her shoulders; she had merely untied her trademark high ponytail and dressed like an ordinary student, trading her aggressive glare for a calm, gentle gaze. Because of that, none of the students from the School of Knights recognized her. In fact, people around campus had frequently been inquiring about the identity of this refined red-haired lady.
Cervini had clearly decided that she would fight no more.
Yet for some inexplicable reason, her fists were clenched tight once again.
The clock approached roughly two-fifty in the afternoon.
The official match was set to begin promptly at three o'clock.
Yet the figures of the Ikerite Academy team were still nowhere to be seen on the right side of the arena.
"Shouldn't they be arriving soon?"
"If they don't show up, will it be counted as a forfeit?"
"A forfeit's actually pretty likely. I heard Ikerite Academy's fighters took a terrible beating earlier, though they did supposedly find an incredible coach."
"If they just forfeit without fighting, they'd better refund our tickets!"
The sky blackened like spilled ink, blanketing the entire arena. Thick, dark clouds drifted across the sky above, plunging the already dim grounds into an even deeper shadow.
A fierce gale swept over the platform, churning up flurries of fallen leaves and dust, as if mocking the fragility of mortal men.
At last.
Six figures slowly emerged from the Ikerite side of the entrance tunnel, led by Coach Lanqi at the vanguard of the Soul of the Fighter team.
The mere sight of their entrance caused the roar of the arena stands to quiet down, before fading into absolute silence.
Through the storm clouds, an occasional bolt of lightning ripped across the dark expanse, illuminating the entire dueling floor. In that split second, the brilliant flash felt like the eyes of a deity, passing judgment over the mortal beings below.
A crashing boom of thunder rolled in right behind it, shaking every heart—a warning from the heavens that this contest hung upon a razor's edge of life and death.
Under this tempestuous sky, the two teams stood on opposing sides of the arena.
Their gazes met. Even with the wind roaring like thunder and lightning dancing in the clouds, the standoff between the two sides was chillingly quiet, much like the eerie calm before a hurricane.
In the audience stands, people seemed to forget how to breathe. Only the icy wind whipped between them, stripping away every ounce of warmth.
Elderly spectators gripped their walking canes tightly, women pulled their coats snug, and young children clung hard to their parents' hands. The sheer pressure bore down upon every chest like a massive boulder, suffocating and relentless.
Even from afar, one could sense the formless, black, shadowy miasma radiating from the five figures standing behind Lanqi.
Cervini, who had still been wavering moments ago over whether to leap down and announce to her boys that she would take the stage to fight, froze entirely in shock.
All she felt was an overwhelming, terrifying alienation.
Those five living beings looked as though they had been stripped of every trace of emotion and memory. They filed coldly past her, entirely oblivious to her presence near the edge of the stands.
What on earth... had happened to her most precious companions?
On the other side of the stands, Talia rubbed her eyes in disbelief.
At first glance, she genuinely mistook them for five demons who were utterly inept at disguising themselves as human beings. Their hands looked drenched in slaughter, and the soul-deep chill they radiated was not masked in the slightest.
The last time she had sensed such an aura from living beings was from the Demon King's Army Special Slaughter Unit.
Compared to the radiant, sunny young men pictured on the promotional screen just moments ago, were these truly the same five people?!
As the two squads drew closer together at the center of the staging platform.
"Didn't think you'd actually show up instead of running away."
Kuse walked at the very front of the Aloran team, sneering arrogantly as he looked down upon the arriving Ikerite fighters.
"..."
Faced with Kuse's provocation, the fighters behind Lanqi offered not the slightest reaction.
Or rather, all light had vanished from their eyes; it was the dead, empty stare reserved only for a corpse.
Lanqi did not bother responding to Kuse yet, merely exchanging a brief word with the nearby referee.
Moments later, the referee instructed a staff member to bring over a document and a pen.
The members of the Soul of the Fighter team swiftly signed their names across it.
"Sign a life-and-death waiver first."
After inspecting the fighters' signatures, Lanqi handed the document—titled *School of Knights' Arena Team Combat Match: Disclaimer and Risk Acknowledgement Form*—straight toward Kuse.
Chapter 222