At that moment, Kai Foster launched his attack.
"It's too late! Burn and die…!"
An unstoppable attack.
Or at least, it should have been.
"Don't worry. You can block it."
It was a blunt thing to say to the protagonist who was about to close his eyes and accept death, but it wasn't meant for him to hear anyway.
Not with the distance between us.
Rin wasn't weak.
He had an A-rank talent, just like Ryen and Leo.
But unlike them, his talent came with a heavy penalty.
As I activated it, time seemed to slow.
My blood rushed through my veins at an unnatural speed, my senses sharpening as if someone had flipped a switch inside my body.
My vision stretched. Sounds warped and dulled. The sparks from Kai's lightning spell crawled through the air like falling embers suspended in honey.
A deep, overwhelming energy stirred within me—an energy I could feel being severed, forcefully drawn out.
The pain that followed was instant.
Like my body was being ripped apart from the inside.
But the power I gained in return?
It was nothing to scoff at.
The name of this ability—
Enhancement.
A skill bordering on omnipotence, allowing me to draw out the full potential of anything I touched—no matter what it was.
And now, that power settled upon [The Holy Sword Of Justice.]
Ryen's talent.
For a moment, the world stood still.
Ryen's sword——forged in conviction, born of justice—glowed with a brilliance that rivaled the sun.
But this wasn't just the Holy Sword of Justice anymore.
It was something more.
Something impossible.
Because my talent—Enhancement—wasn't meant to sync with someone else's.
It wasn't meant to merge.
But it did.
The instant I placed my hand on Ryen's shoulder, just before his instincts could even register the contact, I channeled everything I had—every ounce of mana, every drop of life force—into his sword.
The result?
A surge.
No—an ascension.
The blade in Ryen's hands pulsed, changed, transcended.
A flash of silver, then gold, then something far purer—a hue no eye could define. Light itself seemed to retreat before it, bending in reverence.
The Holy Sword of Justice had become something else entirely.
[Judgement]
A weapon not forged by man, but by will.
Ryen's grip tightened, eyes widening as the force surged through him. Not just strength. Not just speed. But clarity.
For the first time, his talent—the one that had always been at the mercy of a broken concept—no longer obeyed the laws of balance.
It obeyed only his justice.
The blade lifted, effortless, weightless in his hand.
Kai's spell was nearly complete.
Black fire twisted skyward like the gaping maw of a dragon. The death spell roared, hungry, inevitable.
And still—
Ryen stepped forward.
I fell behind him, legs buckling as the backlash from my talent finally caught up.
Blood gushed from my mouth, my nose, my ears. My body screamed. My vision blackened.
But I didn't look away.
Because I knew—
Ryen was going to cut it.
Not Kai.
Not the caster.
Not the demon.
But the spell itself.
He swung.
A single, clean arc.
Not fast. Not loud. Not flashy.
But perfect.
The blade cleaved through the DeathFlame spell like it was paper. A line of pure white carved the sky, splitting the black fire down the center.
And then—
Silence.
For one long moment, the world forgot how to breathe.
The fire evaporated, dissolved, erased from existence.
Not contained.
Unmade.
The blast that should've consumed the arena, the city, everyone—was gone.
Kai stared, unmoving, his mouth open, eyes blank.
His spell—had been silenced.
The ground beneath him gave way as his knees buckled, his body collapsing in a heap of blood and shadows.
Ryen didn't move.
Didn't speak.
He simply lowered the sword, now dim again, its borrowed power fading.
At the same time and unknown sensation hit my body.
My whole body felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside.
I thought I could handle the pain.
I was wrong.
The cost of using this talent… was my very essence—my Primal Qi, my soul energy.
And now, it was all gone.
So this is it, huh?
I'm going to die.
"What a fucking short life …for someone who tried so damn hard to live."
But just as the thought crossed my mind, I heard something.
Footsteps.
No… a heartbeat.
Not mine.
Steady, powerful. Not fast. Not frantic. Just there. Constant. Alive.
"Hey."
A voice.
Warm.
Firm.
Familiar.
Ryen.
"You're not dying today."
He knelt beside me. I couldn't see clearly anymore—my vision was a kaleidoscope of bleeding light and creeping darkness—but I could feel his presence.
Solid. Unshaken.
"You think I'd let you go after all that?" he muttered, gripping my wrist.
I couldn't answer.
Could barely breathe.
Still, his grip tightened.
"I don't care what you gave up. You're not done yet."
I felt something stir.
A warmth—not mine.
Mana?
No. Something older. Something deeper.
Ryen was pouring energy into me.
But not his own.
The sword.
Judgement.
It still held a trace of the power I'd given it. And now, it was giving it back.
"Don't be an idiot," I whispered hoarsely, blood bubbling between my lips. "You'll burn out…"
"I'm not giving you anything that's mine," he said, smiling faintly. "This is yours. You earned it."
The light pulsed through me.
Not violently like before. Not painfully. It was different now.
Gentler.
Restorative.
Piece by piece, I felt the cracks in my soul begin to knit themselves back together. My veins cooled. The pain dulled.
The breath returned to my lungs.
Not enough to fight.
But enough to live.
I lay there, dazed, staring up at the shattered sky above the arena.
My vision was still blur but I could see that the fortress was going to collapse on the ground at any moment.
"L-Look—"
I tried to speak but my vision was fading away.
It's seems that it wasn't enough.
I was going to die.
As the last of my strength slipped away, I raised a trembling hand toward the sky.
The fortress—no, the execution ground—was crumbling. A monument of power and oppression, breaking apart like brittle glass. Massive fragments of stone, steel, and mana-laced wreckage began to fall toward the arena below. Toward us.
Toward everyone.
Ryen looked up, and for a second, even he froze.
There was no time.
Even if he tried to move, tried to carry me and run, we'd never make it. No one would.
The spectators.
The injured.
Even Kai.
All would be buried.
Ryen clenched his teeth.
"No," he growled.
And then—
It happened again.
A pulse.
But this time, not from me.
From him.
Ryen's sword glowed faintly in his hand. Not bright. Not overwhelming. Just… breathing.
Judgement wasn't finished.
It refused to be.
As if sensing the unfinished work, the unfulfilled will, the blade shimmered once more. But not like before.
This wasn't the light of justice.
It was the light of protection.
Ryen closed his eyes and whispered a single word.
"Sanctum."
The blade rang, resonating with something ancient. Something absolute.
A shockwave burst from its edge, carving a sigil into the air—no, the world—above us. A massive glyph, far larger than the arena, etched in gold and white, began to spread outward.
The falling debris met the glyph—
And stopped.
Everything halted mid-air, suspended just above the heads of the crowd. Massive chunks of fortress frozen like birds caught in time.
Gasps echoed from the stands.
A few cried.
A few dropped to their knees.
And then—
The fragments began to disintegrate. Gently. Quietly. Turning to harmless dust, carried off by the wind.
There was no explosion.
No fire.
Just peace.
It was like the world exhaled.
The sky, once cracked and smeared with smoke and mana scars, slowly began to clear. The sun pierced through the gloom in thin rays, like blessings from the heavens.
Ryen turned to me, breathing heavily now.
He'd given everything.
Not just his strength.
But his will.
I tried to speak again, but even that small effort made my head spin.
...And so, that's how entrance exam duel comes to the end.
It was really nice way to start prologue, isn't?
No, it was not.
....And the same time I closed my eyes, maybe for forever.