Chapter 58: Ron vs Lia

The observation chamber hummed with the low static of a hundred monitoring artifacts. Screens tracked students’ positions, badges flashed like errant stars, and the giant public feed in the lecture hall showed the shrinking dome as a white ring crawling inward. Around Zane, the faculty cluster watched with a mix of professional curiosity and plain, childlike excitement.

Mira bounced on the balls of her feet. “Do you see how efficiently they move? Look at Lia’s wind vectors — exquisite!”

Aldren simply laughed, the sound warm. “They’re not just talented. They have that—” he tapped his temple with a gnarled finger, “—that angle of genius.”

Varris folded his arms, expression carved in granite. “They fight like they’ve actually been to a battlefield. No hesitation.”

Lucen stood a step behind them all, quietly unreadable. His eyes tracked the two on the main screen with the kind of appraisal that could chill water. Zane sat back in his chair, pizza box unopened at his side, lenses reflecting the chaos like twin moons.

“Ready?” Zane murmured, mostly to himself.

“Let’s go, guys,” he said. The tone was light, but something in the way he smiled made the others lean in.

—

The forest clearing had become a storm.

Blue fire and pink wind streaked across the battlefield, carving arcs of destruction through the remaining students. Ron and Lia moved as if bound by an unspoken rhythm, their strikes landing within heartbeats of each other, their auras cutting through the chaos like twin predators on the hunt.

Those who still stood quickly realized there was no point resisting. Some turned and ran—not toward safety, but toward the shimmering edges of the barrier itself, choosing elimination over the humiliation and pain of being taken down by the duo. In seconds, white flashes signaled their removal from the field.

But the two didn’t slow.

Their focus shifted toward the last notable pair standing in the chaos—Aurelian and Torren.

Aurelian spotted the incoming blurs first, panic flaring in his eyes. “W–Wait! Wait, wait, wait—!” he stammered, raising his hands in a desperate half-surrender.

Torren, on the other hand, tightened his grip on his weapon, planting his stance. “Bring it—”

They never got the chance.

A sharp collision of force slammed into them from opposite sides—Ron’s searing blue flames from the left, Lia’s razor wind from the right. The two impacts combined into a concussive blast that sent both boys skidding back, boots tearing twin trails through the dirt before the barrier swept them up.

Aurelian’s protest cut off mid-word as his form dissolved into white light. Torren’s glare burned for a moment longer—then he too vanished, teeth grinding in frustration.

And then… only two figures remained.

Ron and Lia stood apart, the tension between them tangible, not hostile—but electric.

They took their positions without a word. Ron’s entire frame was wreathed in intense, dark-blue flames, the air sizzling around him. Lia’s sharp pink wind aura swirled violently, butterflies of luminous energy forming and drifting lazily inside the storm, each one deadly enough to cut steel.

Both of them smiled.

“You’re controlling that heightened state well,” Lia said, voice steady but edged with amusement.

“I could say the same,” Ron replied with a smirk.

Lia tilted her head slightly. “What happened to Arin?”

Ron blinked at the sudden shift in topic. “…Didn’t expect you to ask that. I eliminated him pretty quickly.”

Her gaze sharpened. “You didn’t fight him at full power, did you?”

Ron’s grin faltered for a moment before he gave a small nod. “…Yeah.”

Lia hummed softly, almost to herself, before her eyes narrowed again. “Why’d you ask that weird question?”

Ron raised a brow, but she didn’t elaborate.

—

Observation Chamber

Zane’s gaze didn’t move from the viewing screen, but his thoughts shifted. Hmm… Lia’s been acting strange ever since she crossed paths with that Arin boy.

His eyes narrowed, the reflection of the two combatants burning in his lenses.

—

Back on the field

Ron lowered his spear into a battle stance, heat waves shimmering off his body. Lia mirrored him, her blade angled forward, wind screaming softly around the edge.

Their auras flared—blue fire roaring higher, pink wind spiraling sharper. The ground beneath them cracked under the pressure.

And then, without warning—

They launched toward each other.

The first clash came like a thunderclap—steel ringing against steel as Lia’s thin, straight, single-edged sword met the haft of Ron’s spear.

She pressed forward in a blur of motion, her strikes quick and precise, each one angled to force him back. Ron blocked, parried, and redirected, his arms moving in a steady rhythm, absorbing each blow with the strength of someone used to meeting force head-on.

They were an even match—most of the time.

When Lia’s speed and agility peaked, her blade danced past Ron’s guard, forcing him onto the defensive. But when Ron shifted into bursts of raw power, his spear swept her strikes aside with explosive force, making her step back or risk being overwhelmed.

Steel clashed again, sparks scattering into the air.

“Wow, you’re really fired up, huh?” Ron grinned between exchanges, blocking another slash with a casual twist of his spear.

Lia smirked back. “Well, I wanna win, you know.”

Ron’s eyes gleamed. “And we can fight at full strength without even worrying about hurting each other… thanks to the defensive magic, right?”

“Yeah,” she replied. Her smile sharpened. “Then handle this.”

She leapt back, creating distance—and then her form blurred, vanishing from sight.

Ron’s gaze darted upward.

Wind Butterfly: Elegant Speed!

She appeared above him in a rush of pink-tinged wind, her blade already mid-swing. Then came another, and another—rapid-fire strikes raining down from impossible angles. Ron barely kept up, twisting his body, spear whipping up to deflect where he could.

His clothes tore in thin, shallow cuts, fabric fluttering away in strips. Each near-hit made him grit his teeth harder.

And then… he realized it.

A feint.

Lia’s form shifted mid-attack, her sword sweeping outward instead of down.

Wind Butterfly: Butterfly Slash!

A single, razor-sharp arc of pink wind tore through the air, a trail of shimmering butterfly shapes spiraling behind it as it streaked straight toward him.

Ron’s eyes widened—but then narrowed in determination. His grip tightened on the spear shaft, feet planting firmly. Instead of dodging, he drove forward.

Inferno Spear: Flaming Stab!

The spear’s tip blazed with concentrated blue fire as he thrust it into the oncoming slash.

With a sharp hiss, the wind slash split cleanly in two, both halves howling past him and carving deep through the forest, felling trees in a violent spray of splinters.

Lia’s eyes went wide for a heartbeat—then she smiled. This guy…

Ron didn’t waste the moment. He lunged, spear streaking forward with another blazing Flaming Stab.

Lia met it head-on, sword deflecting the thrust with a burst of pink wind. Her counter was immediate—an overhead slash aimed for his shoulder.

Ron caught it on his spear’s shaft, the clash sending a jolt through both their arms. He twisted, knocking her blade aside, and used the momentum to spin—his leg sweeping up in a fast, powerful kick.

Lia matched him, her own leg snapping up to meet his in midair. The impact cracked like a whip, shockwaves rippling outward.

They both pushed off, landing several meters apart, a faint tremor still in the ground beneath their feet.

Breathing heavier now, both fighters straightened, eyes locked, neither willing to be the first to speak. The earlier eliminations had already drained them—but now came the real fight.

.

.

.

The forest had gone quiet—save for the sharp ring of steel and the hiss of clashing elements.

Ron and Lia were no longer smiling, no longer exchanging words. Their focus had narrowed to a single point: the opponent in front of them.

Ron’s spear flared with a sudden surge of blue heat.

Inferno Spear — Second Technique: Scorching Coil!

The weapon moved in his hands like a serpent—coiling, twisting, striking in looping arcs. Blue flames followed every motion, snaking through the air in patterns that burned away leaves and split branches. Lia darted back, but a lick of heat caught her side, scorching the edge of her clothes.

Thin lines of blood traced across both their arms and shoulders—reminders of how close the fight had become.

They both understood it now. This fight couldn’t go on much longer.

It was time to end it.

—

Pink mana erupted around Lia in a sudden, violent surge. She lowered her stance—and vanished.

Wind Butterfly — Sixth Technique: Tempest Phantom Weave!

The battlefield erupted into chaos. Dozens—no, hundreds—of Lia’s phantoms swirled through the air in a howling vortex, each one slashing from a different angle. The wind cut like blades, the illusions shifting and reforming faster than the eye could track.

Ron’s blue flames roared higher in answer, heat distorting the air around him. His grip tightened as he churned mana through his core.

The spear spun in a blur, his entire body turning with it.

Inferno Spear — Fifth Technique: Blazefire Aegis!

The blue fire swirled into a spinning barrier, the heat so intense the ground beneath him began to char and crack. Dragons of pure blue flame tore from the vortex, each one snapping toward the incoming storm of pink phantoms.

—

Lia’s phantoms struck as one.

Wind Butterfly: Butterfly Slash!

The blue fire dragons collided with the wind slashes mid-air.

Impact.

A massive explosion shook the forest, the shockwave flattening the grass and ripping trees from the soil.

Through the roar of wind and fire, Lia’s voice rang out—

“Take this, Ron!”

Ron’s shout tore back at her—

“Come on, Lia!”

The blast consumed them both.

—

When the smoke finally thinned, two figures emerged from the wreckage.

Ron was on one knee, blood trickling down his face, half his top burned away. His breaths came ragged, but he was still conscious—barely.

A few meters away, Lia knelt as well—her sword tip buried in the dirt, eyes white, body swaying. She had lost consciousness mid-kneel, frozen in the moment of her last strike.

Ron forced himself to his feet, stumbling toward her with heavy steps.

“She… even defended my last attack at the very end,” he muttered. “Didn’t let it injure her enough to be eliminated. She’s just… the best.”

He stood there, swaying, barely able to keep his grip on his spear.

—

The barrier shimmered—and passed over them both.

A voice boomed across the silent battlefield.

[“The exam is finished.”]

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