Bruce Doyle’s magically amplified voice boomed across the stadium, vibrating in their chests.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, what a start to the Second Round of the Third Level Groups! Only the absolute best remains!”

Bruce paused, letting the crowd’s anticipation swell.

“But now… it is time for our third bout. And let me tell you, it’s going to be exhilarating!”

A rhythmic chant began to ripple through the stands before Bruce even finished his sentence.

“She dominated her last performance with absolute, terrifying precision! After that flawless victory, she was already known before the tournament as the undisputed Queen of the Dueling Arena, and has now become the undeniable favorite to take this entire group!”

Bruce roared, his voice reaching a fever pitch as the crowd screamed her name.

“From the College of Arcanum a 3rd-Circle Adept, a tempest in human form… Kaelen Thorne!”

Kaelen stepped out of the gate looking like a coiled spring. She wore light, reinforced leather armor that didn’t restrict her movement. In her left hand, she held an iron-shod battle-staff; at her right hip rested a gleaming finesse short sword. She dropped into a fluid, martial stance the second her boots touched the sand.

Bruce spun toward the opposite gate.

“Facing her, another Direct Entry participant and a dark horse, a Tier-3 Deep Veil from the minor College of Intelligence (Statecraft)… Dawn Moran!”

From the opposite gate, Dawn Moran stepped into the light. She looked entirely unassuming, almost boring. She wore sleek, non-reflective dark clothing and a complex utility belt. In her hands, she twirled twin obsidian stilettos that seemed to swallow the sunlight. She didn’t look like an arena gladiator; she looked like an operative who belonged in a shadowed alleyway.

Almost immediately, the roaring cheers of the stadium began to organically die down. A localized, suffocating pressure seemed to radiate from the Deep Veil operative, an oppressive aura that made the bright midday sun feel suddenly cold.

Up in the spectator box, Ray leaned over the railing, his knuckles turning white. He didn’t even need to activate the Commander’s Eye to recognize the shift in the atmosphere.

Detective: “Look at her stance, kid. No wasted energy. No ego. That’s a killer.”

The Gritty Detective’s voice was a low, urgent rasp.

“She’s not here to win a sporting match.”

Ray muttered, his voice barely cutting through the sudden, uneasy hush that had fallen over the arena.

Cassian dropped his playful demeanor entirely, his posture going rigidly straight.

“No, she looks like she’s here to execute a target.”

He agreed softly, his eyes narrowed at the dark horse.

Down on the sands, Kaelen felt it too. Her confident smirk vanished, replaced by a hard, battle-ready scowl as she lowered her center of gravity.

“Will the Valkyrie cut through the shadows, or will the Deep Veil claim another victim? Begin!”

Bruce roared.

High above, the magical bell tolled, a heavy, echoing chime that shattered the silence.

Ray narrowed his eyes, pushing more focus into the Commander’s Eye

.

Immediately, an alarm bell rang in his head. The geometric overlay that usually predicted a fighter’s movements was… glitching. Dawn’s kinetic vectors were completely muted, her center of gravity impossible to read. It was a flawless physical manifestation of her Deep Veil Training.

Commander: “She has no presence. No wasted breath, no aggressive posture, She’s a ghost, kid. Kaelen is in for a nightmare of a matchup.”

The Grizzled Commander noted in Ray’s mind

Dawn didn’t charge. Without a single word, she flicked her wrists, her mana signature barely registering.

“Fracture.”

She cast the 2nd-Circle Spell: Mirror Image.

The light around her fractured like a broken prism. Instantly, three illusory duplicates of Dawn stepped outward, moving in perfect, confusing synchronization with the original.

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Kaelen wasn’t intimidated. She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, channeling wind mana through her core.

She initiated the stance: Bladesong.

A visible vortex of compressed air swirled around Kaelen, lifting her hair and whipping her leather coat. Her movement speed doubled instantly, a kinetic barrier forming a natural, humming armor over her skin. She blitzed forward, moving in an absolute blur, her iron-shod staff swinging in a wide, whistling arc to shatter the clones.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

The illusions shattered like fragile glass, but the battle staff hit nothing but air.

Just before the strike landed, the real Dawn Moran had slipped away.

Masking her mana flow entirely, she wordlessly cast the 2nd-Circle Spell: Veil of the Unseen.

She had vanished, bending the ambient light around her body without making a single sound. Kaelen was standing in the center of the arena, surrounded by nothing but sand, fighting an invisible assassin.

“Where is she?”

Cassian whispered, gripping the railing.

Suddenly, the sound of crunching footsteps echoed directly behind Kaelen. Kaelen spun, her staff flashing defensively, but there was no one there.

It was a decoy, a seamlessly projected Cantrip spell: Phantom Sound, thrown across the arena to misdirect her.

From Kaelen’s actual blind spot, Dawn struck.

She quickly cast the Cantrip spell: Synaptic Static.

Kaelen physically flinched, a sharp hiss of pain escaping her lips as an invisible spike of psychic static hit her brain. Her quick reflexes stuttered for a crucial half-second.

It was all the opening Dawn needed.

A shimmer of displaced air appeared right beside Kaelen. An obsidian stiletto thrust forward, aimed with surgical precision directly at the gap in Kaelen’s leather armor near her floating ribs. It was a lethal Deep Veil skill: Vital Point Sabotage.

Kaelen reacted on pure instinct. She didn’t have time to swing her weapon. She simply opened her left palm.

“Obex.”

She cast the 1st-Circle Spell: Repulsion Shield.

A glowing, hexagonal kinetic barrier calcified in the air a single millimeter from her skin. The obsidian dagger struck the barrier with a sharp crack, sparking violently before Dawn pulled back, vanishing into the unseen veil once more.

“A phantom strike deflected by a hair’s breadth!”

Bruce yelled as he watched a slowed down replay of that scene.

“Moran is playing a terrifying game of hide and seek, folks!”

Kaelen leaped backward, creating distance. She was breathing heavily.

Through the Commander’s Eye, Ray saw the tactical dead-end Kaelen was in. A finesse sword and martial arts were completely useless if you couldn’t see the target to hit them.

Flush her out, Kaelen, You have the artillery. Use it.

Ray thought, gripping the armrests of his chair.

Down in the arena, Kaelen’s eyes hardened. She realized she was playing Dawn’s game. It was time to change the rules.

She slammed the iron-shod butt of her battle staff into the sand. Channeling a massive surge of wind mana, she spun the weapon above her head.

“Ventus… Aegis!”

She cast the 2nd-Circle Spell: Zephyr’s Ward.

A violent, localized tornado erupted outward from Kaelen’s position. The sheer force of the wind was deafening, but more importantly, it acted as a massive vacuum. Thousands of pounds of coarse arena sand were kicked up into the air, whipping around Kaelen in a thirty-foot radius.

“Brilliant!”

Ray muttered aloud.

Invisibility only bent light. It didn’t make you incorporeal.

About fifteen feet to Kaelen’s left, the swirling sand violently parted around an invisible, human-shaped void. Dawn’s cover was entirely blown by the environmental hazard.

Seeing her outline revealed in the dust storm, Kaelen didn’t hesitate.

“Velox.”

Kaelen cast the 1st-Circle Spell: Slipstream Step.

Her boots glowed with concentrated wind mana, completely eliminating the friction of the sand beneath her. She skated across the arena floor faster than the eye could track, completely bypassing a desperate cloud of Somnus sleep-dust that Dawn tried to throw in her path.

Dawn, realizing her stealth was compromised and the gap was closed, braced for a brutal melee clash. She raised her twin stilettos, aiming for Kaelen’s vital points.

But Kaelen expected it. She didn’t just swing a sword; she wove magic into the steel.

Utilizing Spell-Weaving, Kaelen didn’t thrust her blade. As she slid into range, she thrust her open palm forward.

“Repello!”

She cast the 1st-Circle Spell: Kinetic Burst.

A point-blank, shotgun-blast of invisible force erupted from Kaelen’s hand. The shockwave slammed directly into Dawn’s chest. The operative was hurled backward, her stilettos flying from her grasp as the breath was violently knocked from her lungs. She crashed onto the sand, her invisibility dropping entirely as her concentration shattered.

Before Dawn could even gasp for air or attempt to cast another illusion, Kaelen was there. Moving in the exact same fluid motion as the kinetic blast, she drew her finesse short sword from her hip.

The tip of the blade rested a single millimeter from Dawn’s throat. The steel was humming violently, sheathed in the volatile, explosive energy of a Kinetic Strike cantrip. If Dawn twitched, the kinetic energy would detonate, taking her head off.

Dawn Moran stared up at the vibrating blade, then up at Kaelen’s stormy, unyielding eyes. Slowly, the operative raised both her empty hands in surrender.

“Checkmate!”

Bruce Doyle screamed, the crowd erupting into a frenzy that shook the foundations.

“The storm scatters the shadows! Kaelen Thorne secures a breathtaking victory with unparalleled mastery of spell-weaving!”

Up in the spectator box, Ray let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

Cassian pumped his fist in the air, cheering wildly for their friend, completely forgetting his bookie ban.

Commander: “Outstanding adaptability. She realized her blade was useless against a ghost, so she turned the environment into a weapon to strip away the enemy’s advantage. That is battle IQ, kid.”

The Grizzled Commander praised a rare note of absolute approval in his voice.

As Kaelen offered Dawn a hand up, exchanging a nod of mutual warrior’s respect, the afternoon block barreled toward its conclusion.

Over the next hour, the final two bouts of the 3rd Level Group were decided in flashes of elemental fury and broken steel. A towering pyromancer melted a heavy infantryman’s shield to slag to claim victory, while a lightning-affinity duelist paralyzed his opponent in the opening seconds of the final match.

The academy proctors eventually stepped out and started to magically restore the heavily scarred arena. The Second Round of the First, Second, and Third Level groups were officially concluded.

Ray leaned back in his chair, looking out over the arena.

The board was getting smaller.

The weak had been culled, and the remaining fighters were brilliant, deadly, and constantly evolving.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep