Dante's first defeat since entering the world of magic—the end of a decade-long unbeaten streak.
Amid the roaring crowd, Olivia remained seated, expression calm.
She worried for Dante—but neutrality was necessary for now.
Siana checked on Dante and signaled he'd be fine. Only then did Olivia release a small sigh.
'So Dante lost.'
She'd never doubted his victory. Yet strangely, now that he'd lost, she felt no emotional turmoil.
Maybe it didn't feel real yet—but it was an undeniable masterpiece of a duel.
'I have to admit it. Dante gave his all. Shirone was stronger. That's all. But…'
That final spell Shirone cast—what was that? It resembled his signature Photon Cannon, but Olivia was certain:
That was no ordinary Photon Cannon.
Even she, a specialist in verbal magic, would've struggled to unleash such power deliberately. And beyond raw force, the amplification defied common sense. Elevating a student-level spell to archmage-tier was impossible—even for her.
Olivia glanced at Alpheas. His silence confirmed he'd known all along.
Had he anticipated this duel just to witness that tiny chance of a miracle? Like a boy rubbing his hands in anticipation of a fascinating toy.
'You sly fox. You played me.'
Olivia gritted her teeth. But Alpheas, whom she expected to gloat, remained deep in thought, lips sealed.
'Was it always this powerful?'
Ultra-Magic Amplification Circle: Ataraxia.
He'd heard tales of Shirone's feats, but seeing its power firsthand was different.
And most importantly—this was an official duel under the Kingdom's Mage Association. Reporters were present, and recording devices had captured everything.
After this, the royal capital would react.
If they secured Ataraxia, the prestige of Alpheas Magic Academy would skyrocket in an instant. Moreover, with Olivia's power backing them, they could even topple the royal magic school's dominance.
Having thought that far, Alpheas spoke in a low voice.
"Sade."
Sade approached and bowed his head.
"Yes, Master."
"Retrieve the Icheon record immediately. Do not hand it over to anyone. And destroy it in front of Shirone. Make absolutely certain he witnesses its destruction."
"Understood."
Sade answered without protest and bowed deeper.
Even his bracelet's crystal orb had been shattered.
Since this was an unprecedented incident in all his years managing the Icheon, he sensed the situation might spiral beyond expectations.
Of course, the bigger the incident, the more the school's name would spread—but if it was Alpheas' order, personal considerations were irrelevant.
Olivia's sharp gaze shifted to puzzlement.
She had long known him to be uncompromising, but she hadn't expected him to make such an inflexible decision.
"Are you sure? The Black Box contains all the data from this duel—Dante's Pascal, Shirone's magic circles… If we just copy it, it'd be invaluable. Even if the kingdom tightens security, they'd pay a fortune to obtain it."
Olivia probed subtly, but Alpheas didn't hesitate.
"It belongs to Shirone. No one should access that information without his consent."
"He might agree if you ask. Think about it. He could decide for the school's prosperity—or for the advancement of magical society. Shirone himself has benefited from the achievements of countless genius mages, hasn't he?"
There was some truth in Olivia's words. Without the noble sacrifices, challenges, and efforts of past generations, human magic would never have progressed this far.
That was why Alpheas himself had submitted his thesis on quantum theory—the innovation behind photon magic—as a contribution to the nation.
Yet his stance remained unchanged.
"Shirone can choose whenever he's alive. But not now. If he ever feels it's truly necessary, he can decide for himself. Offering him 'choices' like this is no different from coercion."
Olivia clicked her tongue. Same as ever—stubborn to the core.
'Well… That's why I liked him, though.'
The duel was over, yet none of the students left.
They were waiting for the climax—the moment Dante would kneel before Shirone.
But the defeated Dante still hadn't regained consciousness, despite the teachers' healing magic.
Sabina shook her head, her voice trembling.
"Dante… lost? No, this can't be. He's beaten so many strong opponents. His undefeated streak can't end in some rural school like this."
"Sabina, calm down. Let's just be glad he's alive."
Closer held her shoulders, trying to soothe her, but Sabina, overwhelmed, refused to accept reality.
Haven't we all had days like this? Days where impossible variables pile up and everything goes wrong.
For Dante, today was that day.
"Dante is invincible! His sync rate was 50%! At the Royal Academy, he's fought at 100%! There's no way he'd lose to some backwater hick!"
"Hmph. Even so, it's just a simulation."
Sabina whipped her head toward Canis.
"What?"
"Dante's never fought a giant. Or an archangel."
"What nonsense are you spouting? I won't tolerate you mocking Dante!"
"I'm saying he's never fought a life-or-death battle against an unbeatable foe. Sync rate, Icheon duel—none of that matters. Real combat isn't like that."
Sabina gritted her teeth.
Amy chimed in.
"Dante doesn't know real combat. Not that he isn't strong enough for it. But Shirone… he's always staked his life to get here."
Canis nodded.
"The Icheon duel is close to real combat. But it's not the same. That kind of thing isn't even fun. Do you know what it's like to bet your life? When you stand on the line between life and death, your thoughts freeze—all you can think is 'I want to live.' Fighting while clinging to reason in that state… that's real combat."
Sabina pouted like a child. Having been beaten by Neid, she understood the situation Canis described.
But they didn't know the resolve Dante had fought with.
No matter how much they belittled it as a simulation, no matter how much they mocked him for only fighting winnable battles—one fact remained unchanged.
To Dante, the Icheon duel was everything.
Tears welled in Sabina's eyes.
"No… That's not true. Dante… Dante really did fight with his life on the line."
Silence lingered. Even Shirone's friends no longer felt like mocking Dante's group.
No—truthfully, their resentment from a semester of his arrogance couldn't be erased so easily.
But Dante was strong. Strong enough that competing with him as a rival had been thrilling. Even in defeat, he'd preserved his friends' pride.
As the awkward moment passed, Dante finally stirred.
The excited chatter died instantly as all eyes turned to the Icheon arena.
Sabina and Closer winced. They'd hoped he'd stay unconscious until the day's end—but the problem with the academy's most durable student was his rapid recovery.
When Shirone approached, the students held their breaths. Dante struggled to lift his head, gave up, and bowed again. Then he began muttering something under his breath.
Shirone waited silently.
Finally, Dante stopped murmuring and raised his head.
No more exchanges. Winner and loser had been decided—all that remained was the spoils of victory.
"Kill me."
Dante's declaration sent shockwaves.
Shirone pressed his lips together and glared.
Murmurs spread. No one had expected him to choose death over kneeling.
Criticism followed—immature, unmanly, stubborn—but Sabina knew.
Dante wasn't being stubborn. His words held no childish defiance.
—I'll become the greatest mage. To do that, I have to treat the Icheon duel as real combat.
—But Dante, no matter what, it's still a simulation. There are rules, differences from real combat.
Sabina could never forget his reply.
—True. But training like everyone else won't make me an archmage. So I've decided—if I ever lose in the Icheon duel, it'll mean my death.
Back then, they were young.
Sabina had thought it mere dramatic resolve before a match.
But as time passed, she realized Dante meant it.
By his 150th, 200th duel, there were countless moments he could've lost.
Yet he always won.
By the 400th, those words must have become a blade pressing against his own throat.
And so, Dante grew rapidly—achieving a staggering record of 472 wins, 0 losses.
Alpheas sensed the situation turning grave.
"I never imagined he thought this way."
He glanced at Olivia, but she shook her head, equally stunned. She'd never expected Dante to stake his life on a duel. His determination to become the greatest was admirable—but for an 18-year-old, it was extreme.
Then it struck her.
Because he's 18. The pressure to defend his position must have been crushing.
Featured in magazines, revered by students, crushing rivals—how could that bring only joy?
She, too, bore some responsibility for his extreme choice.
Dante spoke again, as if to prove his sincerity.
"Kill me. I've never once imagined losing to anyone. This is my defeat. If you don't want to dirty your hands, I'll do it myself. But I won't kneel to you."
Shirone lowered his head and sighed.
Dante was making a critical mistake. His life was his own—but voicing such thoughts only wounds or angers others.
"You lost… so you'll die?"
"Yes. That was my resolve in this duel."
"Why? Who the hell do you think you are?"
Students gasped. Dante flinched at the scorn, but Shirone's emotions ran hotter than anyone's.
"You demand others kneel so easily—yet you can't even do that much?"
"Don't spout nonsense. I truly staked my life. I'm offering to disappear—for someone who might've been my lifelong rival."
"You think you're that important?"
Dante's face twisted. He'd thought Shirone, of all people, would understand.
"I've lived up to my name as the kingdom's greatest talent. Not that I'm making excuses. But you didn't beat me easily, did you?"
"The kingdom's greatest? Then what can you actually do? Stop a war?"
"What?"
"If you're so great, change something—anything. But you can't. So why stake your life on a loss?"
Dante's expression contorted, but Shirone pressed on.
"You can't stop wars, famine, or civil strife. 'The kingdom's greatest'? What's so great about you?"
Dante's breath grew ragged. Each word stabbed into his skull, his chest, his heart. He was falling—something fundamental within him crumbling into the abyss.
"Even if you die, the world won't change. No one will care."
Dante couldn't take it anymore. If this continued, he'd hit rock bottom.
"Shut up! You win once and get arrogant? Want a real fight?"
"Dante."
Shirone looked at him with pity.
"You're just human."
Dante's face paled. The shell around him shattered.
Canis' words resurfaced in his mind.
—You'll feel what it's like to be crushed to the absolute bottom.
This hadn't been a provocation. Canis' words held no exaggeration.
"No one—not even an archmage—can change the world alone. Because we're human. That's why you have no right to throw your life away."
A solemn silence fell. Even those who'd mocked Shirone for refusing to fight now stood humbled.
The kingdom's greatest talent.
To aspiring mages, it was a dreamlike title. But from afar, it was just another man-made concept—less than human.
"That boy…?"
Olivia turned to Alpheas. Shirone's student records would have details, but she wanted something deeper.
Alpheas finally confessed.
"Shirone… met Miro. And in heaven, he met the Archangel Ikael."
Olivia's eyes widened.
Alpheas nodded with a bitter smile.
"Yes. He's one of the few who know the truth."
Olivia fell into deep thought.
Even now, this world was sustained by a single mage.
Knowing that, all human affairs must seem trivial through Shirone's eyes.
"He's strong. Most would've been terrified or given up."
"He wasn't always like this. He used to be shy, quiet."
Alpheas recalled the day they'd met—a twelve-year-old boy eavesdropping on his lectures over a wall. Now, he'd grown into a prodigy who could stand proud anywhere in the kingdom.
"Competition isn't just a system to determine rankings. It's a process of clashing philosophies to find your own. Obsessing over rank is foolish."
Olivia gazed at Dante with pity.
Shirone's words held no falsehood. Changing the world was on a different level from topping a magic school.
Even Mc Laine Gephin—the most powerful mage in history, whose true form remained unknown—and his chosen successor, Adrias Miro, had to make immense sacrifices to protect this world.
"Can Dante become as strong as Shirone?"
"Everyone here will grow stronger."
Olivia closed her eyes.
The duel was over. And so was her long, tangled history with Alpheas.
"I've lost. I'll resign as headmaster and leave."
Alpheas smirked.
"You could always stay."
"What? My term's almost up anyway."
"Stay and help me. I'm getting too old to manage alone. To put it plainly—become this school's vice-principal."
Olivia's eyes narrowed.
Vice-principal? Under Alpheas, of all people? After she'd been headmaster of the Royal Academy?
She'd tried to bury the past. No matter what, she couldn't win against this sly fox—so she'd resolved to forget and move on.
But it seemed Alpheas wouldn't rest until he'd tormented her to the very end.
Of course, she understood his intent. Having Jerome Olivia as vice-principal would skyrocket the school's prestige. Plus, her own innovations here had been substantial.
All the more reason to refuse.
She wouldn't fall for his scheme to grab both fame and talent at once.
"Vice-principal? Are you insane? Why should I help you?"
Without hesitation, Alpheas played his trump card.
"That night… when you came to me…"
"Stop! Please!"
Olivia shut her eyes and shouted.
How can anyone be this cruel? What did I ever do to you?
When he'd suddenly reappeared after over a decade, she'd thought it a chance for revenge.
Now, she regretted not turning him away that very day.
Tears brimmed in her eyes.
"You're… truly selfish."
Alpheas dropped the act and spoke earnestly.
"Don't go. Stay. We'll drink tea, tend the gardens. And… say hello to Erina."
Olivia's eyes burned. How dare he? He knew her feelings—yet asked her to greet his late wife?
Why must I suffer this humiliation?
All I did was love him. What crime did I commit to deserve this hell?
"You really—!"
She raised her voice—then stopped at the look in Alpheas' eyes.
For once, they held genuine emotion.
A week had passed since Shirone and Dante's duel.
Olivia was still serving as acting headmaster, and rumors swirled that she would officially return as vice-principal next semester. For the students, this was shocking news.
Olivia was a Second-Class Grand Mage. Had she returned to the Royal Magic Academy, it would have been understandable—but no one could have imagined her willingly working under Alpheas. Yet if the rumors were true, it was exhilarating.
With the principled Alpheas leading and Olivia—the kingdom's finest instructor—joining the faculty, the school's prestige would skyrocket. Even with only a month left in the semester, the students' enthusiasm for their studies remained high despite the usual end-of-term restlessness.
Olivia often strolled the campus with Alpheas. Though they still clashed like fire and water, their arguments never escalated into full-blown fights. Olivia would flare up like a wildfire, only to fall silent the moment Alpheas spoke, as if doused with cold water.
Teachers and students alike speculated that Olivia must have some weakness Alpheas held over her.
Today, too, Olivia wandered the school grounds with Alpheas, enjoying a leisurely break. Most of the semester's curriculum had already been revised, leaving only the teachers busy with preparations.
"We'll plant roses here."
Olivia stretched her arms wide, measuring the width of the flowerbed. Passing students bowed respectfully.
Students: "Good afternoon, Acting Headmaster Olivia!"
Olivia greeted them warmly.
Olivia: "Ah, classes are over?"
Students: "Yes! We're heading to the library now."
Olivia: "I see. But shouldn't you be at the training grounds during the practical period?"
Students: "Well, we had a Icheon class today. We need to recover. Honestly, we didn't realize how exhausting it'd be combined with the practical sessions."
Olivia: "Hmm, fair point. I'll bring it up at the next faculty meeting."
Students: "Wait, really? Thank you!"
The students practically skipped away in delight.
Olivia's teaching philosophy prioritized swift, efficient adaptation over rigid tradition.
Suddenly—
Sade: "Headmaster!"
Sade came running, his face pale as if something terrible had happened. But Alpheas and Olivia, veterans of countless storms, remained unfazed.
Olivia: "What is it, Professor Sade?"
Gasping for breath, Sade pulled out a magazine tucked into his waistband—a publication from the Mage Journalists' Guild.
Olivia immediately sensed trouble.
Of course. After an unknown student defeated the kingdom's greatest mage, Dante, the media would sensationalize it beyond reason.