CHAPTER 63: SEMIFINALS: THREADS OF FATE

"First match of the semifinals, begin!"

The instructor’s voice echoed across the arena.

"Candidates, step forward."

From one side, Lia Isolde stepped onto the stage, her sword gripped firmly in hand. From the other, Arin Blake ascended with a calm, steady smile.

"All the best," Ron muttered as Lia passed him.

She gave him a small nod, her face unreadable, before stepping forward.

Arin rolled his shoulders, spear at his side. "Let’s go all out, Miss Lia."

Something about his tone crawled under her skin. Lia’s grip tightened on her sword, a strange unease swelling in her chest.

"Shut up... just shut up!" she hissed, slipping into her stance.

Arin tilted his head, smiling faintly. "You really don’t want to fight me, do you?"

Her teeth ground together. She launched forward, wind gathering at her feet—

Only to falter mid-stride.

"Ahhhhhh!"

A piercing cry tore from her throat. Her body convulsed, staggering as her sword nearly slipped from her hand. The arena fell silent. Shock rippled through the crowd, even the judges leaning forward in alarm.

Everyone—except Zane.

He sat in his seat, arms crossed, expression neutral as if he had been expecting this.

Arin stood motionless, watching.

"Lia!" Ron bolted toward the stage, only to be blocked by the instructor’s arm.

"She’s still in battle!" the instructor barked.

But her cries soon dulled, her body going limp as she collapsed unconscious.

Ron didn’t wait. He rushed forward, scooping her up in his arms. "Lia! What happened?!" His voice trembled, eyes scanning her pale face. Faint, dark veins marred her temples — a sign of something far beyond fatigue.

He turned sharply toward Arin, fury blazing in his eyes. "What did you do to her?!"

Arin met his glare with unsettling calm. "What did I do?" He tilted his head, then muttered under his breath,

"...Fate did."

Ron didn’t hear the whisper, but Arin’s serenity only enraged him further.

"I’ll beat the crap out of you in the finals!" Ron snarled.

Arin’s smile widened. "We’ll see."

Ron carried Lia off the stage, his jaw clenched, as healers rushed to take her toward the medical hall. The crowd murmured in confusion and fear, the semifinals now tainted with an ominous shadow.

The arena hushed as Lia was carried away. On the judges’ platform, the three professors exchanged looks—each reacting in their own way.

Varris Denholm’s brow twitched for the first time; surprise flickered across his massive features, then smoothed out. He folded his arms, voice low and steady as always, "Hrm." The brief shock passed quickly—he was not one to wear emotion.

Mira Sorenhal, however, looked genuinely shaken. The youngest of the professors, she pressed a hand to her mouth. "W-what happened? She—she just collapsed. Why would that happen to Lia of all people?" Her eyes darted, searching for any clue, but the answer eluded her.

Zane’s gaze remained calm; he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Mana backflow," he said quietly, the word dropping into the air like a cold stone. The others’ heads turned to him.

Lucen Merrith stepped forward then, the Vice-Chairman’s voice steady as ice. "A

Mana backflow in one’s channeling — it occurs when the caster’s or warrior’s mind or focus falters while directing mana. The current recoils, striking inward. In mild cases, the victim suffers crushing headaches and mana suppression for a day or two. In severe cases, it can incapacitate them for weeks." He let the warning hang for a moment, sympathy creasing his features. "Poor girl."

He glanced to the side. "I’ve already ordered the healers to find the cause and take extreme care of her. See to it." The instructors below moved at once, urgency threading their steps.

Around them, whispers rose—surprise, worry, and a ripple of fear. A mana backflow was not something to dismiss lightly; to see it strike a candidate like Lia in the middle of a duel was a rare and troubling sight.

Zane leaned back in his seat, eyes following the healers rushing Lia toward the medical hall. His expression didn’t shift, but a faint glimmer danced in his gaze,as if cataloguing one more piece on a chessboard.

"So... she couldn’t beat fate after all," he muttered, voice low and calm, as though commenting on something inevitable.

His eyes moved toward Arin, who stood on the stage with that same carefree smile, and a soft sigh escaped Zane. "Arin’s fate and that little gift of his... far too lethal for someone like her. Especially since her own destiny was woven into it from the start. Tsk, tsk."

He shook his head slowly, not out of pity but with the patience of someone watching pieces move on a board.

"Well," Zane’s lips curled into a smirk, "I’ll eventually deal with Arin. It’s too soon for such powers to awaken in this world anyway. My first world should unfold at my pace—not theirs."

His eyes then shifted, following Ron’s back after he carried Lia off-stage, rage boiling inside him. That’s where Zane’s true interest lingered.

"I’m more curious about Ron," he mused inwardly. "The little blessing I gave them both back then... they’ve barely scratched the surface of it. Lia couldn’t even touch hers. But Ron..." His smirk deepened. "If Ron can dig deeper, extract even half of that hidden potential, then maybe—just maybe—he’ll be able to twist fate itself."

Zane’s eyes narrowed, a faint amusement glimmering in his deep purple gaze.

"That," he thought, lips curling into a sharper grin, "will be worth watching."

--

Sometime Before...

Arin stood in the shadowed corner of the hall after the last quarterfinal match. The crowd was dispersing for the short break, cheers fading into murmurs. His gaze seemed fixed on empty air, but what he saw wasn’t visible to anyone else.

Before his eyes floated a translucent, cyan-blue screen—letters glowing faintly in neat order.

[Redemption Quest]

Title: Strongest Duelist

Explanation: Prove that you are the strongest duelist.

Objective: Win the Duel Exam (Incomplete)

Sub-Objective: Defeat Ron Volkov badly (Incomplete)

Reward: Special Box

Sub-Reward: All techniques of Ron Volkov

Arin’s eyes flickered at the words. His jaw tightened as his mind returned to the Survival Exam, to that one failure still burned in his quest history.

He scrolled.

Every past quest—ticked neatly in glowing blue.

Except one.

[Quest Failed]

Title: Survival of the Fittest

Arin’s hand clenched at his side, anger simmering in his chest. That bastard Ron tricked me back then... ruined my quest.

"...Status," he whispered under his breath.

The screen shifted instantly. Lines of data cascaded before him like a neatly drawn spreadsheet.

[Status Window]

Name: Arin Blake

Age: 16

Strength: D-

Agility: D+

Endurance: D

Speed: D+

Magic: D

Luck: A (Growing)

Unique Skills:

Blessing of the Thunder God (SS Rank)

Learner (EX Rank)

My Story (EX Rank)

His lips curled into a sharp smirk. The skills shimmered in his vision, reminding him of what truly set him apart.

"That Ron guy..." Arin muttered quietly, eyes narrowing. "Almost as strong as me. He even has something close to Partial Thunder Mode... Heh. I’ll crush him."

A smile spread slowly across his face—too wide, too sure.

But then, another thought crossed him. A softer, more obsessive gleam entered his eyes.

"...Lia."

He swiped open his quest tab again. Another title glowed faintly.

[Quest: Fated Heroine]

His smile deepened, shifting into something unsettling.

"So beautiful... so cute... She’s my heroine."

From the judge’s seat across the hall, Zane’s sharp eyes flickered briefly toward Arin. His expression shifted in faint disgust tugging at the corners of his mouth.

---

The break ended. The instructor’s voice thundered across the arena.

"First match of the semifinals—begin!"

Arin stepped up onto the stage. Lia Isolde walked to meet him, her disguise gone, her true form revealed in the open for the first time. Her long golden-brown hair fell like liquid silk from her hood, and her deep dusk-pink eyes glimmered faintly, drawing attention from everyone who saw her.

Arin smiled at her beauty, his spear humming faintly with electricity.

"Let’s go all out, Miss Lia."

But her answer was nothing like he expected.

"Shut up... just shut up!" Lia snarled, sword raised, her voice trembling with something more than anger.

And then—

A popup flashed across Arin’s vision.

[Error]

Heroine cannot fight Hero within the quest.

Apply skill: My Story (EX Rank)?

Arin’s smirk widened.

"You really don’t want to fight me, do you?" he murmured.

Lia staggered mid-charge, a scream tearing from her throat. "Ahhhhhh!" Veins spread across her temple as she clutched her head, the pain consuming her. Gasps erupted from the audience, even the judges leaned forward in shock. All except one. Zane sat unmoving, eyes cold.

Arin stood calmly, watching. Just a little more, Lia. You don’t have to endure this pain. Once you’re with me... it’ll all be over.

His smile softened into something disturbingly tender.

Then Ron’s voice cut through the chaos.

"Lia!"

He vaulted onto the stage, scooping her into his arms despite the instructor’s protest. Her face was pale, veins faintly glowing with unnatural strain.

"What happened to you, Lia?" Ron demanded, voice shaking as he held her close. His eyes snapped toward Arin, blazing with fury. "What did you do!?"

Arin tilted his head, calm as still water.

"...What did I do?" His lips twitched into a faint smirk.

Then, too softly for Ron to hear, he whispered:

"Fate did."

But Ron’s rage boiled hotter.

"I’ll beat the crap out of you in the finals!"

Arin only smiled, unbothered.

"We’ll see."

As Ron carried Lia from the stage, Arin’s eyes lingered possessively. Just a little more. Soon, those disgusting hands won’t touch you again, Lia.

But then—

A shiver crawled down his spine. An instinctual chill.

Arin’s smirk faltered for just a moment.

"...System," he whispered. "Check. Is someone watching us?"

[Scanning...]

Result: None Found.

Arin exhaled, forcing the smile back onto his face.

"Well... whatever. Must be my overthinking."

The storm in his eyes didn’t fade.