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Fifteen minutes after collapsing, Caelan Virelith stood up like nothing had happened.
The sound of his chair scraping against the arena stone drew the attention of nearly everyone.
Seryn's brows lifted. "What…? Already?"
"I feel fine," Caelan said, casually rolling his shoulders. "Actually, better than fine."
From the elevated pavilion, a murmur rippled through the clan heads.
"That recovery speed…" Malrik Cromwell muttered.
"Monstrous," Velian Stormbrite whispered. "Even with a mana pill, that shouldn't be possible so soon."
Theron Virelith simply folded his arms, a subtle smile forming. "He's my son."
The proctor, clearly startled, cleared his throat and raised his hand. "The final match of the Heirs' Exhibition will now begin. Contestants, step forward!"
Caelan turned to Seryn as he adjusted his cloak. "You've known Silas longer than I've known him. What do you know?"
Seryn's expression turned serious. "Not much, and that's what's disturbing. Silas Cromwell doesn't show off. But the few times I've seen him fight… he's terrifying. He's a master of dark magic. They say he's the strongest among us."
"Stronger than you?" Caelan asked with a raised brow.
Seryn smirked. "I'd never admit it out loud. But maybe."
Caelan gave a low whistle. "Well, guess I'm in for some fun."
He stepped forward, twin swords secured at his back, each stride filled with controlled confidence. When he reached the platform, Silas was already waiting, arms behind his back, posture calm and unreadable.
Silas' black eyes studied Caelan with a quiet intensity. "So you're the storm everyone's whispering about now."
"Storm?" Caelan grinned. "You haven't seen anything yet."
"I hope you'll make me go all out," Silas said, his tone emotionless. "It would be a waste if you didn't."
"Oh, don't worry. You're in for a wild ride."
The proctor raised his hand. "Begin!"
Immediately, a shimmer of dark purple light spread around Silas as a protective mana barrier flickered into existence.
Caelan didn't hesitate. A fireball burst from his palm, roaring across the field. At the same time, he vanished in a flash of silver-blue light—Blink.
Silas calmly raised his hand. Two narrow beams of dark magic fired from his fingers, intercepting the fireball mid-air with explosive force.
Boom!
Just as Silas turned, Caelan appeared behind him with blades drawn. Steel met mana as Silas's shimmering barrier took the brunt of Caelan's twin strikes, sparks spraying from the collision.
Caelan backflipped away as a blast of dark energy surged toward him.
Silas followed it up with a barrage of spells. Orbs of darkness spiraled toward Caelan, tendrils of corrupted mana whipping across the stage like serpents hungry for prey.
Caelan weaved between them, blinking again to avoid two direct hits. The ground erupted behind him, scorched and cracked.
"Fast reaction time," Silas murmured, casting another volley.
Caelan blocked a dark lance with his swords, grunting as it sent vibrations through his bones.
> He's pressing me hard already. If I keep dodging, I'll wear out before him.
> But if I push too early… Crimson Overdrive might tear me apart.
One blast grazed his shoulder, burning through cloth and searing skin.
"Tch—damn it," Caelan hissed.
He skidded backward, breathing heavily.
> No choice. I have to risk it.
His body tensed, blood beginning to surge unnaturally through his veins. Red arcs of lightning began to crackle faintly across his skin, crawling over his arms like serpents made of fury.
"Pushing already?" Silas asked, noticing the change.
Caelan smirked, though his body trembled. "You started it."
Then came the surge—Crimson Overdrive. Lightning infused with blood magic, supercharging every single cell in Caelan's body. Red lightning flickered violently, wrapping around him in crackling rings of heat and tension.
From the clan seats, gasps echoed.
"That technique again…" Velian murmured.
"It's accelerating everything—his strength, speed, even mana flow," Malrik said.
Theron narrowed his eyes. "But it's not stable. Not yet."
Silas, watching calmly, finally raised a hand toward the sky.
Mana gathered—dense, dark, and oppressive.
The very air grew colder.
High above, the energy began to twist and compress into a gigantic orb of shimmering violet-black mana. It pulsed like a living star—angry, hungry, immense.
Silas' voice, low and chilling, carried across the arena:
"Dark Sun… Erase."
The colossal orb of dark energy ignited above his palm, rumbling like a distant thunderstorm.
Caelan's eyes narrowed.
> That spell… That thing could wipe out a small mountain
> I can't take that head-on.
> So I'll meet it with everything I've got.
He pushed more power into Crimson Overdrive. The red lightning intensified—burning, screaming through his limbs. His hair whipped in the storm of raw power as he planted his feet and raised both swords, blood magic and lightning swirling around him in chaotic harmony.
Seryn stood from her seat. "He's going to clash with it?!"
The crowd collectively held their breath.
Silas extended his arm, and the massive orb of darkness rocketed downward.
Caelan roared, his body a blur of lightning and blood as he launched himself upward to meet it head-on.
As the two powers collided in mid-air—
BOOOOOOM!
The entire arena shook violently. The sky lit up as crimson and purple energy exploded against each other, shockwaves blasting outward.
Dust. Silence. Mana particles floating like snowflakes in the air.
And no one could see what happened.
Not yet.
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