One of the special swords that had been gathered by the organization Alter, an artifact among artifacts. In many ways, it was Liamās most powerful weapon. Its ability was both simple and terrifying: it could cut through anything. Spells, mana constructs, even barriers that should have been untouchable. A blade that ignored the very principles of magic itself.
Such a weapon, such overwhelming power, had been left in Liamās hands. Raze, however, had insisted it belonged there. He truly believed that with his system, he could bring out the potential of those around him, elevating their strength to match his own. Raze himself had countless ways to fight; he was never without an option. But for Liam, having that sword meant that in battle, his friend could face dangers that would otherwise have been far beyond him.
Today, though, was different. Raze had asked to wield the sword himself. He had requested it for one reason only.
And as soon as Ibarin unleashed his first true attack, the reason became clear.
The moment the spell came roaring forward, Raze pulled the weapon free, a black flash cutting through the air. With a single stroke, he stopped the Grand Magusās attack in its tracks, slicing through it as though it were nothing but mist.
Gasps erupted from the audience.
"Whoah, he pulled out a sword! Wait, is he a magic swordsman?"
"Donāt tell me... are you saying that when he fought against Kayzel, he wasnāt even using his full strength?"
The Central Academy students, watching from near Alen, leaned forward, eyes wide. They studied every detail, desperate not to miss a thing.
āHe used a sword back then as well, didnāt he?ā Kayzel thought, his mind racing. āAnd... didnāt he say it himself? He claimed he was the Dark Magus. I wanted to believe he was lying, but when I think back to the announcement... The Dark Magus was said to fight with a sword as well.ā
Kayzel clenched his fists. It had seemed like a passing comment at the time, a bluff to rattle him. But now? Now it was harder to dismiss. Could it be possible? Could this student really be the one the world whispered about?
No, it didnāt make sense. The Dark Magus was supposed to be a figure of nightmare, an entity whose very presence warped the battlefield. This boy was young, far too young. Even if he could use Dark Magic, even if he bore the same appearance, that didnāt prove he was
the
Dark Magus. More likely, he was someone who had taken on the name, an inheritor of the legend, perhaps even a pretender building the Dark Guild in his own image. That was the only explanation that Kayzelās mind could cling to. And yet, it didnāt explain why his skill, his sheer power, felt so impossibly real.
The clash escalated quickly. After his first attack was cut apart so easily, Ibarinās expression hardened, and with a sudden burst of rage he hurled several sharp wind strikes toward Raze. They werenāt ordinary blades of air. The mana packed into them was dense enough that they would have shredded through almost any defensive spell. Against most opponents, there would have been no time to react.
But Raze had no need for defense.
With calm precision, he swung the sword again, each arc cleaving the wind apart. The edges of the spells unraveled in midair, collapsing harmlessly as if the world itself had rejected their existence. And then, as the threads of mana broke, Raze manipulated the remnants with his own wind, bending the currents away from his body so that not even the stray energy touched him.
The crowd murmured louder.
"What is that sword...? To cut through spells so casually, "
Before they could finish their thought, Ibarin escalated. Several glowing orbs of wind appeared, suspended high above him in the air. Sparks of lightning crackled at his fingertips, the sharp scent of ozone filling the arena.
He swung his arm, and the wind spheres shot forward. At the same moment, bolts of lightning leapt from his fingers, striking each orb. They transformed instantly into miniature storms, swirling with destructive force. Explosions of wind and thunder roared toward Raze from every angle.
Razeās eyes narrowed. āIf they donāt strike me directly, my blazer should shield me from the aftershocks. But just in case...ā
He raised the sword and unleashed a single sweeping slash. The blade cut through the storm orbs, unraveling them into unstable bursts of mana. Explosions followed, lightning storms erupting in blinding flashes that engulfed the stage, drowning the battlefield in light and sound.
For the spectators, Raze disappeared within the chaos.
But within that storm, hidden from sight, Raze quietly switched blazers. He pulled on his true weapon, the god-tier blazer, woven from Dark Magic itself. The fabric shimmered like shadow come alive, flickering with an otherworldly glow as though the threads were spun from the abyss.
When the storms subsided, when the smoke cleared, the white-haired figure emerged again. Raze stood tall, the strange, tattered-looking blazer flowing around him.
To the crowd, it seemed nothing more than another rare item, perhaps something stored in a ring until now. They could not grasp its true nature. They did not recognize it as a weapon born of forbidden magic. To them, it was just another enchanted coat.
"Hey, werenāt contestants only allowed one special item?" someone shouted. "Heās already got the sword, and now that blazer, thatās two!"
"Idiot," another replied. "That was for the
student
fights. This isnāt a student match anymore, this is an exhibition! He challenged the Grand Magus himself, of course the rules are different!"
Ibarin halted his assault, eyes narrowing. His magic storms had been brushed aside. His opponent stood untouched.
"Whatās wrong?" Raze asked, his voice steady, almost mocking. "Didnāt you say you were doing the same to me? Making all my attacks useless? Havenāt I just done the same to you? Iāve stopped every one of your spells, so tell me, Grand Magus, what are you going to do now?"
That was why Raze had asked for Liamās sword. Not because he needed it to survive. But because he wanted to drive Ibarin mad. To turn the Grand Magusās own arrogance back against him.
The veins in Ibarinās temples bulged. His composure cracked, fury spilling into his words.
"WHO ARE YOU!" he bellowed, his voice amplified with wind magic so the entire coliseum heard his rage.
Raze lifted one hand into the air. His eyes gleamed with a cold, merciless light.
"You really want to know?" he whispered.
And then, with a simple snap of his fingers, the air itself froze.
Every sound, every movement in the coliseum ceased. Time itself seemed to still. The only two who could move, the only two who could breathe in that suspended world, were Raze and Ibarin.
****
*****
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