Silence fell where the wind had passed.
The students were speechless. In just five minutes, Shirone's relentless assault had brought Dante—the kingdom's most talented mage—to his knees.
"What the…? Is this real? Dante just…?"
One student shot to his feet, shouting.
"Shirone took him down! He actually took Dante down!"
As if on cue, the training grounds erupted in cheers.
"That was completely one-sided! Was Dante even a match for him from the start?"
"Even Dante doesn't stand a chance against Shirone. I knew Shirone would win from the beginning!"
The students clamored, each throwing in their own comment. Among all the students of the Royal Magic Academy, Dante's defensive prowess was considered unparalleled. Yet here he was, overwhelmed by Shirone's onslaught without even managing a proper counterattack. It was only natural for the crowd to lose their minds.
If the shield had been broken once, who was to say it wouldn't happen again?
The duel wasn't over yet, but judging by the battle so far, victory was already tilting in Shirone's favor.
The crowd's emotions surged, their fervor rising like scorching heat into the sky. The only ones who remained composed were the hidden protagonists of this duel—Alpheas and Olivia.
For both of them, the early stages of the fight had been unexpected. Olivia hadn't imagined Dante would be brought to his knees so easily, while Alpheas was stunned by the sheer audacity of Shirone's offensive.
But this was the world of magic. No—even outside magic, all competition in this world was relative.
"A mage…"
Alpheas chose his words carefully, as if defining something profound.
"…is a human who has ceased to be human."
"..."
Olivia held her tongue. There was nothing left to say after seeing Dante struck down in a single blow.
"Most people can't even step into the Spirit Zone. Simply enrolling in this academy means you've already surpassed the realm of ordinary humans."
Olivia's eyes sharpened. If she twisted Alpheas' words, they implied that even a prodigy like Dante was nothing more than a student at a magic school.
"So what? Dante hasn't lost yet."
Ignoring her, Alpheas continued.
"But… when you gather children who've transcended humanity, something fascinating happens. Among them, someone rises even higher. They compete at that elevated stage, and from there, another stands out."
Contrary to Olivia's expectations, Alpheas wasn't belittling Dante. He was reflecting on his own life through the duel between these two students who had surpassed ordinary limits.
"And when you reach the top, there's nowhere left to climb. That's the realm of a First-Class Archmage, isn't it?"
Alpheas smiled faintly as he glanced at Olivia. She remained deep in thought, her expression unreadable. The way she pouted was oddly adorable for her age.
Finally, Olivia spoke.
"…Are you looking down on me because I'm Second-Class?"
Alpheas didn't answer, turning his gaze back to the arena instead.
How could anyone look down on a Second-Class Archmage?
But when he thought about it… no mage who had reached that rank would ever be satisfied.
Once you became an Archmage, everyone—without exception—raced toward the First-Class rank.
They just hadn't reached it yet.
Students, professionals, even Second-Class Archmages—none could escape the competition.
The world of magic was a lonely battlefield where you fought endlessly just to take one more step forward in the pond you belonged to.
Alpheas, too, had once dreamed of becoming a First-Class Archmage.
There was a time when everyone—himself included—had believed it was only a matter of time.
But after losing his wife, Elina, he had spent a decade wandering aimlessly, and his ambition had faded.
Even if he had started over then, could he have become a First-Class mage?
Alpheas knew the answer was no.
First-Class wasn't something you could reach after wasting ten years. It wasn't a rank you could aim for while countless geniuses surged ahead.
Then what about Olivia?
She was a sharp woman who hadn't lived as recklessly as he had. If anything, after her own heartbreak, she had honed her magic even more fiercely, driven by vengeance.
Alpheas wondered—how close had she come to witnessing that dazzling glory firsthand?
"You must have tried, at least?"
His question was vague, but Olivia understood immediately. She was a mage, after all.
Blinking her long lashes, she sank into quiet thought before finally pursing her lips and answering.
"First-Class… isn't something you reach just by doing your best. No—actually, I don't know. Maybe there's someone out there who worked harder than I did. But at least in my mind, it's a realm of absolute talent."
Olivia reflected on her own words, weighing their credibility against the years she had lived. Then, remembering something she had overlooked, she added slowly:
"Or… perhaps the realm of madness."
Alpheas' eyes half-lidded. Deep wrinkles formed at their corners as the light in his pupils seemed to sink into an abyss.
"You mean Gaold."
Mikaya Gaold—a graduate of Alpheas Magic Academy and now chairman of the Tormia Magic Association.
Back in their school days, nobody had expected him to become a First-Class Archmage.
They had thought he would become a good man.
And he had been a genuinely kind boy. A devout believer who once said his dream was to preach love to the world.
Yet now, that same boy stood at the pinnacle of the Red Line as the kingdom's greatest archmage.
For a mage, it was the highest honor. But for Gaold himself, it might have been a nightmare.
Olivia dredged up a distant memory.
There had been a day when the eyes of the world's most powerful figures had focused on Alpheas Magic Academy.
It was an event that transcended human affairs, and Olivia had been among those in attendance.
"What happened with Miro… I'm sorry."
Alpheas said nothing. The names Adrias Miro and Mikaya Gaold still made his chest ache.
Suddenly, Olivia recalled something and asked:
"The Supernatural Psychic Science Research Club—was that what it was called?"
Alpheas nodded bitterly. Every world-shaking incident had begun there.
"Miro and Gaold were both founding members. A pair of troublemakers, really. Back then, they were nothing but headaches—always causing unbelievable incidents. But without them, this world wouldn't exist as it does now."
"Does it still exist? The club, I mean."
Alpheas' lips curled slightly. Thinking back, it was an oddly twisted bond.
"Shirone, Iruki, Neid—the protagonists of this duel and the kingdom's biggest troublemakers—are keeping it alive. They're Miro's direct juniors."
Olivia's eyes gleamed as she watched Shirone.
The Supernatural Psychic Science Research Club seemed out of place in a magic academy that prized intellect, but the more one thought about it, the more its true significance sent shivers down the spine.
If Miro had been at the club's center back then, Shirone held that position now. Perhaps it was mere coincidence, but something told her that his decision to inherit Miro's club was tied to an inexplicable thread beyond mere cause and effect.
The students' cheers grated on Dante's nerves. He wanted nothing more than to get up and crush Shirone right then, but he needed at least two more seconds to recover from the anti-magic shock.
'This is insane. I still can't move.'
Shirone's attack had been beyond brutal—it was something transcendent. If Dante had been even a fraction slower in casting his defensive magic circle, the match would already be over.
'But I endured. That's all that matters.'
For a defensive mage, danger was familiar. Taking hits was part of his path to victory, so a single knockdown wasn't as critical for him as it would be for other mages.
But the humiliation burned deep.
No matter how minor the setback, this was the first time in his life he had been downed so quickly in a fight.
'Two seconds. One second. There.'
Finally free from the shock, Dante slowly pushed himself up. As hard as it was to believe, looking back, maybe this outcome was inevitable.
He hadn't been careless. But something worse than carelessness had stolen his quick judgment—tension.
The moment before something happens is always the most terrifying. Now that he had felt Shirone's power firsthand, he wouldn't fall so easily again.
"I'll give you credit. Few in the entire kingdom have ever pushed me this far. I'll rank you in the top 20."
Shirone said nothing. Dante's arrogance in ranking his fellow students didn't even register.
This had been an all-out offensive with Immortal Function unleashed. Honestly, Shirone had thought the fight would be over by now. But Dante was still standing. That fact alone infuriated him.
As Dante steadied his Spirit Zone, he spoke again.
"But from here on out, things will be different. You'd better—"
"Dante."
Shirone cut him off, as if he had no interest in listening further.
He needed to push harder. He needed power overwhelming enough to ensure Dante could never rise again.
"This is the last time I'll let you talk before we start."
The moment Shirone turned into a streak of light and charged, Dante felt his heart drop as he frantically activated teleportation.
Barely dodging Shirone's fang-like strike, he wiped his brow. If he had been even a fraction slower, they would have collided.
Had Shirone been aiming for mutual destruction? No—he must have anticipated this reaction.
The initiative still belonged to Shirone.
'But I'll turn things around here.'
After repeated retreats, Dante suddenly changed direction—only for Shirone's streak of light to sharply adjust its angle and pursue.
Within a 10-meter radius—the range of a single teleportation—two streaks of light painted the sky with their insane movements.
The students stared in disbelief. Just a year ago, Shirone had taken his advancement exam by crossing the Uncrossable Bridge with teleportation.
Of course, even back then, he had cleared the Dragon's Labyrinth—a 10th-difficulty trial—but the techniques he was displaying now were advanced skills even professionals struggled to master.
Dante was using techniques of the same level, but he was a specialist who had trained relentlessly at the Royal Magic Academy since childhood.
In short, Shirone's growth rate was absurd. It almost made one wonder if time flowed differently for him.
"When the hell did he reach that level…?"
As Mark muttered, Shirone and Dante charged at each other simultaneously.
The students' hearts stopped at the same moment.
Clearly, neither Shirone nor Dante had expected the other to choose a head-on clash. Yet neither showed any intention of backing down.
It was a game of chicken—if neither yielded, both would die.
The two streaks of light collided along the horizon. Just as the students braced for the worst, the two figures veered away at the exact same moment, splitting in opposite directions.
Mark couldn't tell who had dodged first. Even in a game of chicken, they were evenly matched.
"Are they equals in magical instinct?"
Iruki marveled in genuine awe. Despite having been knocked down once, Dante's movements lived up to his title as the kingdom's finest.
Shirone and Dante were now chasing each other's afterimages.
Their eyelids seemed frozen in place, their pupils absorbing everything in their vision.
Even as he pushed his concentration beyond human limits, Shirone couldn't help but admire Dante's defensive prowess.
'His defensive instincts are insane. There's no opening to exploit.'
Dante's movements, now fully focused on defense, were a work of art. For every 10 meters Shirone advanced, Dante retreated 10 meters. Even when Shirone varied his approach by 9.8 meters, Dante adjusted perfectly, maintaining the exact same distance.