The Return Of The Exiled Villain

After five minutes passed, every single class was already on the arena, awaiting for some kind of signal to begin the fight.

Until Ellen, who was scanning everyone, finally spoke.

”Begin.”

For a few seconds, no one moved.

Four full classes stood in their starting positions, each group reading the same moment in a different way, weighing the cost of being first against the danger of waiting too long, while the rows of spectators who were from the 2nd and 3rd years above the field leaned forward in excitement.

Then the Azure Dragon Class broke the stillness.

Crackle!

Sera Vane moved first, her twin blades leaving their sheaths in the same motion that carried her body forward, her feet barely touching the ground as lightning affinity traced thin, controlled lines along both swords.

She crossed the distance between formations in an instant that felt too short to measure, closing nearly thirty meters before most people had properly processed that she had already begun moving.

Her target was not the Phoenix Class, and not the Black Turtle Class.

She went straight for the White Tiger Class, and more precisely, for Dain Harrow.

She probably thought that since he was Sword Qi user, it was better to map him out of the field, as they were probably more difficult to deal with.

Dain recognized this, and also went forward, coating his sword with qi.

CLANG!

Their blades met at the center of the arena with a violent crack that tore through the air.

The impact sent a visible shockwave across the ground, a circular ripple that pushed dust and loose fragments outward, while the lightning along Sera’s swords collided directly with the dense, cutting pressure of Dain’s sword qi, neither side giving way in that first instant of contact.

A murmur spread through the viewing tiers.

Fwip!

”Tsk!”

Dain pressed forward, trying to force the exchange into his rhythm.

Sera did not resist him directly; instead, she shifted with the force, redirecting it into a rotation that carried her around his line, attacking again from a new angle before he had fully recovered his stance.

Clank, crackle!

The difference in their speed showed at once, not as a clean advantage, but as a constant pressure.

This forced Dain to react a fraction too late with every exchange.

The sound of steel meeting steel echoed in rapid succession, each impact sending smaller shockwaves across the arena floor as the two of them drifted further from their initial point of contact, their fight already pulling them ten meters away and still moving.

At the same time, elsewhere on the field, Bren Colde had begun altering something far less obvious.

”...Perfect.”

The light in the eastern section of the arena dimmed in a way that was difficult to define, not enough to draw immediate attention, yet enough to unsettle the eye, creating a faint inconsistency that made distances harder to judge and movements less certain.

For those relying on mana perception, the effect was worse, a subtle interference that disrupted spatial awareness without ever fully hiding it.

Three students from the White Tiger Class, who had been moving to support Dain, felt the change almost immediately.

One of them stopped where she was, choosing not to move at all rather than risk committing to a direction she could not confirm.

It was a cautious decision, and a good one.

The other two attempted to adjust, slowing down as they recalculated their paths, losing time in a situation where time mattered more than they wanted to admit.

On the opposite side of the arena, Vael Orin stood exactly where he had started, his catalyst rings active and his eyes closed as if he had no intention of joining the chaos directly.

The ground around him had already changed.

A thin layer of ice covered the floor in a wide radius, spreading slowly enough that no one had noticed when it began, forming silently while attention had been drawn elsewhere, until it had already claimed a significant portion of the field.

Three Phoenix Class students advanced toward the Black Turtle formation.

Two of them stepped onto the ice at the same moment, and their footing betrayed them immediately, their balance shifting in a way that disrupted their momentum and forced them to adjust in the middle of movement.

The third had been watching Vael from the beginning.

Seraph saw it before she reached it.

Her steps changed in advance, her balance lowering slightly, her movement adapting to the surface before it became a problem, crossing the frozen ground without losing speed, her awareness extending through her footing with practiced precision.

She reached the edge of the Black Turtle formation.

At that moment, Vael opened his eyes.

Within the Phoenix Class formation, Gray had not moved since the signal was given.

After all... there was no one that insterested him, so instead, he decided to see if there were any potential hidden threats.

Cassandra stood to his left with her scythe already drawn, her gaze moving steadily across the battlefield as she built a complete understanding before committing herself to any single action.

Maelis stood to his right, her hands slightly raised, her gravity field active at a low level, waiting for the moment when she would need to push it further.

”The ice belongs to Vael,” Cassandra said, her eyes still on the field. ”He isn’t attacking with it yet. He’s shaping the terrain.”

”I know,” Gray replied without looking at her.

”Bren’s interference stays centered on him. The range is limited, around twelve meters.”

”I know.”

”The one carrying seven catalysts hasn’t made a move yet.”

”I know.”

She turned her head slightly, giving him a brief, questioning glance.

”Are you watching the same fight I am?”

”I’m watching something else.”

She followed his line of sight.

Across the field, within the Black Turtle formation, Adrian stood still, his posture relaxed, his arms resting at his sides, his attention fixed on a single point.

On Gray.

He was not watching the clashes unfolding across the arena, nor the shifting formations or the techniques already in motion.

He was watching Gray.

Gray met his gaze without hesitation.

Between them, nearly forty meters of open ground stretched across a battlefield that was already filling with sound and force, yet neither of them moved, as if the distance itself was something both of them were measuring in silence.

Adrian’s lips curved into a faint smile.

Gray gave no response.

”...Should I be worried about whatever that is?” Cassandra asked.

”Not yet,” Gray said.

”When does it become a problem?”

”Later,” he answered, finally shifting his attention back to the field.

”Maelis. The ice. Can you lift it?”

”The entire area?” she asked, already studying it.

”Enough to give Seraph stable ground.”

Maelis focused on the frozen surface, her mind calculating whatever she needed to create a gravity field.

”Ten seconds,” she said.

”Do it.”

She extended her hands toward the affected section of the arena.

The change was invisible, yet immediate.

THRUUUM!

The ice began to separate from the stone beneath it, lifting at the edges first, breaking into thin fragments that rose slowly into the air, catching the light as they turned, no longer bound to the surface they had covered.

Vael’s gaze turned toward her, his expression changing slighly in annoyance.

’...Baited successfully.’

”Cassandra.”

”I’m already moving,” she replied, and she was, advancing toward the Black Turtle line along the angle that had just opened, using the moment of distraction without hesitation.

Gray’s attention moved across the field once more.

Sera and Dain were still locked in their exchange near the center, neither willing to give ground, their clash sending repeated shockwaves that others had begun to move around instinctively.

Bren’s distortion field continued its slow approach toward the Phoenix formation, advancing with quiet persistence.

The student known as Mors Ivel, the one carrying seven catalysts, still had not acted, standing at the rear with a focused, unreadable expression.

And Adrian...

Adrian had not looked away.

’Is this guy actually making me his target?’ he sighed inwardly.

”Jasmine.”

[Mm?]

”How much killing intent do I need to end this fast without crossing the line?”

[...Define fast.]

”Ten minutes.”

[That is fast for this kind of engagement.]

”I know. Tell me.”

[...About three percent or six.]

”I can manage that.”

He stepped forward, and slowly released a hint of his killing intent.

FWOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The nearest opponents, those not fully absorbed in their own fights, reacted at the same moment, their bodies recognizing something before their minds did, a pressure that carried no element, no clear origin, yet triggered an instinctive response they could not ignore.

Several heads turned toward him.

Gray walked across the battlefield at an even pace, his rapier resting at his side, his expression calm in a way that made the pressure surrounding him feel more deliberate.

The killing intent spread outward in a slow, controlled expansion.

Above, in the viewing tiers, someone spoke under their breath.

The person beside them did not answer, their focus fixed on the field below.

[That’s enough... a little more and they’ll pass out instantly.]

Gray reduced it, holding it at the lowest level that still lingered in the air.

Then he kept walking.

Ahead of him, the battlefield continued to shift and collide, filled with skilled fighters committing fully to every action they took.

Across the distance, Adrian watched him approach, but surprisingly... it wasn’t him who decided to make the first move on Gray.

CRACCKLEEE!

A streak of lightning instead appeared in front of Gray.

”...Lyra.”