Chapter 44: The Might of Lucen Merrith

The wind howled across the barren wasteland as Zane stood tall, eyes calm, posture unshaken. Lucen removed his cloak, the fabric vanishing with a flicker of magic, revealing his battle-ready attire beneath. His aura shifted—the calm, composed professor was gone. Now stood Lucen Merrith, the 8th Circle Battle Mage.

With a sudden boom, Lucen launched himself toward Zane.

Zane didn’t flinch.

Each of Lucen’s blows met with flawless defense—parried, dodged, or deflected. Zane moved as if he’d already read the fight.

Lucen’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s turn up the heat.”

He slammed his palm into the ground. A massive 7th Circle Spell activated:

Volcano’s Grasp.

The earth trembled. Cracks tore across the battlefield, glowing with red-hot magma. From the fissures burst obsidian tendrils laced with flowing lava—magma tentacles that writhed and lashed out.

The molten tentacles lashed at Zane, scorching the terrain, turning rocks into slag and trees into cinders. Where they struck, the ground sank, becoming molten pits.

Zane began weaving through the chaos. He evaded the molten tendrils and leapt over exploding rocks, his movements graceful yet lethal.

A high-pitched whistle split the air.

Lucen was above him—fist blazing with condensed flame.

Blazing Fist!!!

FWWOOM!

But Zane was no longer there.

Lucen’s fist struck only air.

BOOM!

The punch struck the ground.

CRACKKABOOOOOM!!

A pillar of fire erupted skyward, splitting the sky. The entire terrain shook. A crater five meters wide was gouged out of the earth, molten cracks running deep, and rocks the size of boulders blasted into the sky.

Zane, now airborne, used the shockwave to spin.

His leg whipped around.

CRACK!

Lucen was flung like a cannonball. He smashed through a boulder, rolled across the ground—but with a mid-spin flip, landed back on his feet, armor singed but grin intact.

Zane blinked. A small smile tugged at his lips. “He’s fine.Didn’t kill him. Good.”

Lucen didn’t pause. In one motion, he conjured a jagged icicle in his palm and hurled it:

Shatter Shot!!

A spear of ice shot forward and burst mid-flight into hundreds of splinters. The shockwave shredded nearby trees, and ice needles embedded deep into the battlefield, causing the temperature to drop sharply.

Zane deflected most with his bluish aura.

Lucen blurred-mist surrounding his feet as the ground beneath him froze instantly.

Glacial Step.

He shot forward-faster than before.

A blur of cold and speed, Lucen reappeared beside Zane, fist raised—now coated in solid stone, pulsing with magical might.

Terra Knuckle!!!!!

Zane’s eyes gleamed. “Let’s test that.”

He punched.

Their fists collided mid-air.

BO0000000000M!!!

Their fists collided. A dome of energy expanded outward-a massive shockwave leveled the surroundings. Trees snapped in half, nearby cliffs crumbled, and the ground fractured outward in concentric waves, as if an earthquake had struck.

The tremor spread for kilometers. Dust and boulders rose like waves, crashing down seconds later.

From the haze, both figures emerged-each spinning mid-air before landing cleanly on their feet.

Zane exhaled. A grin crept up.

“That’s enough warm-up… right?”

Lucen returned the smile, his eyes alight with battle-lust.

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s go.”

This guy… no one aside from the Chairman has ever clashed with me like this and smiled back.

Zane thought to himself, “Well, I could kill this guy with a breath… but once in a while, I like stretching my limbs.”

Lucen smiled wide, his battle lust flaring—raw and intense—but he quickly reined it in, his expression hardening into one of sharp focus.

Zane, watching calmly, thought,

“Why don’t I use that martial art I made… Ripple vein flowing fist.”

.

.

Lucen’s body tensed, the red tint of his aura growing denser like blood boiling beneath his skin.

8th circle magic

“Cremalith Surge!”

Molten lava crawled along his arms, chest, and back—bubbling like living fire—before hardening into thick volcanic plates etched with glowing runes. The weight of the battlefield shifted. Each breath he took sounded like a furnace exhaling.

Without a word, Lucen lunged.

The ground cratered beneath his leap as he rocketed toward Zane, obsidian fists raised high with lethal intent. His expression was sharp. Deadly serious.

But Zane was still smiling.

Bare-handed. Relaxed. Calm. His black coat swayed with the pressure.

Then—

Lucen’s punch came down with a force that could crush boulders. Zane took one step forward.

Ripple vein flowing fist.

His right arm moved like water, catching Lucen’s force mid-air and redirecting it with a spiraling twist. The punch veered off harmlessly past Zane’s shoulder. Another came—this time a hook, burning with volcanic heat. Zane lowered his body slightly, guiding it past his waist, the impact never reaching him.

Each movement was fluid. Clean. As if the strikes never mattered.

Bluish mana began coating Zane’s arms, spiraling gently over his veins as his fists moved. Not for offense—just control.

Lucen attacked faster, heavier, burning hotter. But Zane never budged. He weaved through every blow, letting the force pass around him. Shockwaves erupted behind him where redirected strikes slammed into the ground—shattering boulders, gouging trenches—but Zane stood untouched in the chaos.

Then—

Lucen’s eyes flickered with intent.

Zane narrowed his eyes. “He’s about to use something… big.”

The ground began to rumble violently.

Eight blazing red-orange magic circles spun into existence behind Lucen.

8th circle magic.

“Hellfire Rift.”

A deep crack zigzagged across the battlefield. Fire burst from it like dragon breath—raging skyward, lava fountains gushing as smoke blanketed the field. The terrain split apart, glowing red veins charring everything they touched.

But Zane had already leapt into the air, flipping over the eruption like it was choreography.

Up above, Lucen now floated mid-air, his body tense and veins pulsing with power. His hand churned with immense mana, the atmosphere distorting around it.

8th circle magic

“Crimson Conflagration!!!!!”

Heat vanished from the above air—absorbed, compressed into a tiny, glowing red orb above Lucen’s palm. The orb began to expand, glowing golden at its edges, swirling with dangerous instability.

Zane, now midair from his leap, landed softly atop a tall fractured stone—still smiling. Still calm.

Lucen hurled the plasma sphere like a sun dropped from the sky.

The projectile tore through the air with a high-pitched screech, devouring oxygen, light, and even sound in its path.

And then—

Zane did something no one expected.

He moved his palm in a slow, spiraling motion—Ripple vein flowing fist—and the flames still lingering in the battlefield bent toward him. Like leaves drawn into a whirlpool, the inferno spiraled into his hand.

A small orange orb began to form—similar in glow, in heat, in pressure—to Lucen’s own.

Hand-sized. Quiet. Focused.

Zane smirked.

Then hurled it forward.

The tiny orb collided with the massive Crimson Conflagration—and the sky lit up.

A thunderous explosion rocked the area, flames bursting out in a golden ripple, creating concentric shockwaves that flattened trees, cracked stone, and sent debris flying for miles. A localized earthquake followed the clash, rumbling the scorched earth below.

Lucen, still hovering, stood dumbfounded—his body frozen in the air, breath coming in slow, heavy bursts. Throughout the clash, Zane had masterfully redirected Lucen’s monstrous strength back at him, using the Ripple Vein Flowing Fist not just to defend but to counter with elegance. Each time Lucen struck, Zane twisted his stance, flowed with the impact, and sent the force rebounding straight back—forcing Lucen to suffer the consequences of his own power. The results were beginning to show. A thin cut marked Lucen’s forehead, blood trailing down to his brow, while the corner of his lips was split, a streak of red tracing down his chin.

His lips moved but no words came.

What… what was that art?

Zane stood on the cracked spire below, fist lowered, his smile ever so casual.

“How was that?”

.

.

.

Lucen hovered in the air, his breath coming in short, ragged puffs. Blood trickled down from a gash on his forehead, another smear lining the corner of his lip. His body ached, punished by his own redirected strikes—his strength turned against him again and again by the eerie, elegant art Zane wielded.

Slowly, Lucen descended, boots touching down on the cracked earth across from Zane. He exhaled hard, forcing his breathing under control, then straightened.

“Very impressive…” he muttered, a faint smile curling despite the sting of his wounds. “You’re breaking every expectation I had… Nice.”

Zane simply smiled back, relaxed but ready. The wind shifted.

“Then witness this.”

Lucen’s magma-forged armor shattered and crumbled from his body like fragile stone, vanishing in red embers. For a breathless moment, silence hung. Then his aura burst outward—no longer red-orange, but bluish-white, brilliant and pure. A shockwave rippled across the battlefield, whipping the air into a storm. Winds howled. Mana surged like a tidal wave. Zane remained calm within the chaos, unmoving, his eyes steady and amused.

And then, the temperature plummeted.

Behind him, eight massive, dark blue magic circles spun slowly in the air—each inscribed with intricate runes and glowing with cold power, pulsing like frozen hearts.

8th Circle Ice Spell – Throne of Winter

The wasteland began to transform. Snowflakes drifted from nowhere. The ground crackled as frost claimed it, spreading like veins of light. Crystalline ice surged outward, freezing the battlefield into a glacial expanse. From the center rose a massive throne of jagged ice spikes—and atop it stood Lucen, now crowned in frost.

His breath exhaled mist. His eyes glowed a piercing blue. His hair had taken on a frostbitten white-blue sheen, shimmering under the cold light.

In a heavy, resounding voice, he declared,

“Witness the Ice Kingdom…”

Zane didn’t flinch. Standing in his flowing stance, one hand slightly raised, smile unfaded, he spoke calmly through the icy gale,

“Struggle all you want… I’m entering your academy. I get what I want in the end.”

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