CHAPTER 43: THE REAL TEST BEGINS

Zane’s smile widened. "Come on," he said softly, "give me everything you’ve got."

Cedric narrowed his eyes. "Don’t regret it."

With a burst of mana, he cast a strengthening enchantment on himself, his speed increasing as wind whipped around him. A sharp gust erupted beneath Zane’s feet.

"5th Circle – Tempest Snare!" Cedric shouted.

A swirling mini-cyclone formed, pulling Zane off the ground and suspending him mid-air. His coat flapped violently as he floated, hair ruffled by the fierce wind. Yet, Zane’s expression didn’t waver—he was still smiling, almost amused.

Around them, more mages and knights had gathered in secret corners, trying to observe unnoticed. Lucen and Zane both noticed—Zane with a casual glance, Lucen with an annoyed sigh.

Cedric moved fast, forming his next spell, chanting under his breath as mana surged around him.

"6th Circle – Eye of the Storm!"

A massive dome of wind and crackling lightning formed around Cedric, expanding with a deafening roar. The dome blasted outward, surging toward the suspended Zane, now caught in mid-air with nowhere to go.

The dome struck him dead-on.

BOOM.

A bright flash lit the entire hall, followed by a violent shockwave. Dust and smoke engulfed the platform, cloaking everything in a grey haze.

The crowd leaned forward, eyes wide. But the training hall remained unharmed—the protective enchantments carved into the very walls shimmered softly, having absorbed the impact without a scratch.

And as the dust began to settle...

As the dust cleared, Zane was still standing—untouched, unfazed, and smiling casually.

Cedric, breathing heavily, stared in disbelief. "W-What the hell...?" he muttered. "You’re still standing?!"

Zane gave a light shrug, his tone calm. "That was good—for your level."

"Stop smiling like that!" Cedric snapped, his frustration boiling over. "Let’s see if you can survive this!"

Without wasting another breath, he churned his mana violently. The floor cracked beneath his feet from the pressure. Zane, meanwhile, blinked lazily.

"How slow is this guy?" he mused in his head. "Just cast the spell already."

With a final surge, Cedric unleashed his next spell—

"6th Circle – Emerald Crucible!"

The earth roared.

Stone and soil surged upward in a swirling motion, enclosing the arena in a colossal dome of compressed rock. The sphere sealed shut, encasing both Zane and Cedric within.

From the outside, the audience gasped—now unable to see anything. Murmurs spread like wildfire. Even high-ranking mages were confused.

But Lucen, his arms folded and eyes calm, could still see through the dense barrier—his eyes glowing faintly with arcane perception.

Inside the dome, Cedric, drenched in sweat and breath ragged, stood firm. "You want to see how strong I am?" he said between huffs. "Then stay still... and take this!"

Zane tilted his head slightly. "Hmm... Why not?"

But while Cedric had been shouting, Zane was already preparing.

It would be rude to not answer with magic, he thought, amused.

Cedric began to channel his trump card, his final and strongest spell.

Arcs of electricity crawled across his body, mana twisting violently in the air.

"6th Circle Thunder Art – Stormheart Cataclysm!"

The very air cracked.

A black storm cloud spiraled into existence above them—condensed and thrumming with apocalyptic energy. Chains of golden-yellow lightning burst in all directions, while thunderclaps boomed like war drums.

Electric sigils swirled around Cedric’s form as his eyes lit up white-yellow, his feet grounded at the center—the eye of the storm.

Lightning surged.

The storm raged.

And outside the dome, everyone could feel the rising pressure. Though they couldn’t see it, the mana was undeniable—like a beast awakening.

Lucen’s expression darkened. That brat Cedric... That spell’s not bad. But...

Inside the dome, Zane observed the crackling sky with faint interest.

"Hmm... not bad," he murmured. "But..."

He raised his hand—and snapped his fingers.

A white magic circle appeared silently behind him, spinning slowly like a divine gear. From it emerged a long, sleek spear of pure white light—elegant and dangerous.

Zane’s eyes narrowed. "Let’s make it special."

The spear began to rotate—spinning perfectly along its own axis, like a drill of divine precision.

Cedric didn’t notice—he was fully immersed in his storm, eyes locked on Zane.

Outside, only Lucen could see what Zane had done. His brows twitched.

"He’s using a basic spear spell...? Against that?"

The white spear gained momentum, glowing brighter with each rotation. It didn’t screech or crackle like Cedric’s storm—it was silent. Controlled. Focused.

And in Lucen’s eyes, far more dangerous.

He’s suppressing his magic output... No chants. No pressure leaks. That’s not basic. That’s mastery.

From within the ominous black storm cloud he had conjured for his final move, Cedric unleashed everything—chain lightning, thunder booms, piercing wind spikes, a relentless barrage of destructive storm magic. The arena lit up with crackling energy.

But Zane was already ready.

Standing tall, he gripped his glowing whitish magic spear, which he had prepared earlier. Without hesitation, he hurled it forward.

Boom! The spear tore through the storm like a divine lance, annihilating every spell Cedric had cast—the lightning fizzled out, the thunder shattered mid-air, and the black cloud split apart under the force of the spear’s radiance.

Realizing he had to use everything, Cedric clenched his fists and concentrated his entire storm into one final, colossal thunderstrike.

At the same moment, Zane raised his whitish, spinning magic spear—light humming around it like a divine whisper—and hurled it forward.

Boom.

A deafening explosion shook the dome. A blinding flash of white and yellow tore through the air.

Lucen reacted instantly, reinforcing the protective magic surrounding the arena to shield the spectators from the shockwave. The earth dome Cedric had constructed cracked and rumbled from the sheer force of the clash, but the enhanced wards held firm.

When the dust finally settled... silence.

The crowd stared, wide-eyed.

Zane stood in the center of the ruined dome, completely unharmed, holding Cedric aloft by the neck with one hand. His expression calm. Almost bored.

He let Cedric’s unconscious, battered body drop to the ground and spoke casually,

"He’s done. That was easy."

Cedric lay crumpled, his robe scorched, body bruised and bloodied in places—while Zane stood spotless.

Lucen stepped forward, eyes complicated, and raised his hand.

"The winner is Zane Creed... the Traveller."

In the shadows above, several professors looked on, stunned. Cedric was no weakling—he was among the most promising—but he had been defeated... effortlessly.

Lucen stepped forward, his tone firm. "Alright. Zane, come with me."

He turned to the others. "No one follows us. Call the medics and take Professor Cedric to the infirmary—immediately."

As Zane followed Lucen through the corridors, he felt a faint pressure in the air and narrowed his eyes.

"Hmm... he’s not done yet. I can feel it. This guy still isn’t satisfied with how that match ended."

They entered a quiet hallway that led to Lucen’s personal chamber. Inside, the door shut behind them with a magical thud. Zane looked around with casual disinterest before tilting his head and feigning ignorance.

"So... I passed, right?"

Lucen didn’t answer.

He turned abruptly—his sharp fist already flying toward Zane’s face with shocking speed.

Time slowed in Zane’s eyes.

"Really now?" he thought, watching the punch come. "Guess he wants to test me himself. I could tank it, sure... but it’ll be more fun to catch it."

In real time—

Boom!

Zane’s palm closed around Lucen’s fist effortlessly, stopping it cold.

The ground quaked from the force, but a translucent blue energy wall around the office shimmered, absorbing the shockwave before it could spread.

Lucen didn’t even flinch.

"As I thought," he said calmly. "You’re far beyond Cedric... That wasn’t even a challenge for you."

He pulled back his hand and added,

"Your entry condition into this academy has changed. You’re going to fight me instead."

Zane grinned. "Gladly."

Lucen turned toward the window and muttered, "We can’t fight anywhere near here. We’d blow up half the academy."

He glanced over his shoulder. "You can fly, right?"

Zane shrugged. "Hm. I can."

"Good. Follow me. I know a place."

With that, they both shot into the sky. Lucen flew fast, trailing streaks of blue mana. But even without pushing himself, Zane easily kept pace beside him.

Lucen cast a glance at the boy. "He’s not even trying... He’s matching me like it’s a casual stroll. At that age... with that power..."

He clenched his jaw slightly.

Meanwhile, Zane was thinking the exact opposite.

"If I fly any faster, I might leave him behind. Better slow down a little."

Soon, they reached a vast barren land—cracked earth, jagged rocks, and no signs of life. A perfect battleground.

They landed with quiet thuds.

Lucen turned, his tone serious.

"I am Lucen Merrith. Peak 8th Circle Battle Mage."

Zane raised an eyebrow. "Battle Mage, huh?"

He thought to himself, "Is this some sort of tradition? Everyone keeps announcing their titles..."

He gave a faint shrug.

"Well, whatever. Not my thing."

He cracked his knuckles. "Ready when you are."

Lucen smirked, entering a solid stance. "I’m ready."

Zane mirrored him with a casual yet grounded posture.

The real fight was about to begin.