Chapter 167: Fury (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 167: Fury (2)
“We will now begin the duel evaluations for the first and second-year students.”
The Magic Department’s dueling grounds were buzzing. Within one of the four dome-shaped arenas, Snow White sat in the audience, her heart racing.
“Kyaaah! Professor!”
“Professor Fernando, I love you!”
“He just looked at me!”
The arrival of Fernando Frost, the strikingly handsome, silver-haired professor in charge of the first-year Magic Department, sent a wave of screams through the female students. Professor Fernando, however, remained indifferent. His cold, detached demeanor only seemed to fuel their fervor.
“Quiet down and listen. I will now explain the rules for the evaluation.”
Standing in the center of the arena, Professor Fernando’s voice boomed through a loudspeaker. The rules remained unchanged: surrendering was prohibited within the first minute of the match. The duel would end immediately if a participant fainted, became unable to fight, or declared surrender.
Kaboom—!
Fwoosh—!
Following the referee’s signal, students descended from the stands to the arena floor to begin their matches. Each duel concluded with feedback from the judges, though students could opt to receive a written evaluation later if they preferred.
White had been trembling since she woke up that morning. It had been a long time since she felt this level of anxiety. Instinctively, her eyes drifted toward the audience section where the second-years sat.
There sat Isaac, his silver-blue hair catching the light and Zhonya’s Staff slung over his shoulder. He was observing the matches when he noticed her gaze. Meeting her eyes, Isaac offered a light wave and a small smile, his lips clearly mouthing the words: ‘You can do it.’
Seeing that, White let out a small, relieved laugh. The tension in her chest eased. Of everyone at the academy, Isaac was the one she felt most comfortable with—the one she truly admired.
Finally, the call came.
“First Year, Class D: Snow White von Kairos Elfieto. First Year, Class A: Miya. Step forward!”
The stadium fell into a hushed murmur. It was a match of extremes: the lowest-ranked student in the grade versus the top seat. Normally, people would have dismissed it as a slaughter, but the fact that the "bottom-tier" student was a princess of the Zelver Empire piqued everyone’s curiosity.
“It’s time…”
White looked at Isaac one last time. He gave her a firm nod, and she mirrored the gesture.
With that, Snow White—the princess whose name perfectly matched her pure, snowy appearance—and Miya, the Priestess with cascading hair like black jade, descended into the arena.
The students whispered amongst themselves. Such a massive skill disparity wouldn't benefit either side. The lowest rank was bound to be crushed, and the top seat gained no prestige from winning such a lopsided fight.
However, White didn't care about the outcome. As long as she could hold her own and have a proper match with Miya, she would be satisfied.
On the arena floor, White’s nervousness was palpable, while Miya stood with an air of effortless confidence.
“All means are permitted. Surrender is prohibited for the first minute. If one side faints or is unable to continue, the duel ends immediately. Conduct yourselves with respect,” the referee explained briefly.
“Yes!” White responded firmly. Miya simply nodded.
The judges watched with bated breath. The Princess of the Zelver Empire and the Priestess from the East—these two were the center of constant rumors within the academy.
“Then, get ready…! Begin!”
The referee dropped his arm and stepped back. The duel began.
Miya stood perfectly still, arms crossed. She made no move to deploy a magic circle or even take a combat stance. She simply wore a faint, mocking smile.
In contrast, White immediately manifested a light-green magic circle in the air, her mana surging.
“Miya, thank you for accepting this duel,” White said, her expression dead serious. “Here I go…!”
This was the moment to show the fruits of her relentless daily training. Even if she couldn't become Miya’s friend, she wanted to at least earn her respect. White was determined to give this everything she had.
She thrust her right arm toward Miya. The wind-element magic circle glowed brilliantly as a gentle breeze transformed into a violent gale.
Whooosh—!!
The magic circle unleashed a 4-star wind spell: [Whirlwind]. Though her control was still unrefined, she had successfully cast it. It lacked the concentrated piercing power of her mastered 3-star [Wind Sword], but it boasted the widest area of effect in her arsenal.
The pale green vortex swept across the arena, engulfing Miya. A transparent barrier shimmered around the audience, protecting them from the stray winds.
But then—
Whoosh—!
Crimson flames erupted, swirling outward and devouring the wind.
The sheer pressure of the mana was overwhelming. It felt as if gravity had suddenly intensified, a heavy weight pressing down on White’s entire body. Fear flickered across her face.
The intense fire consumed the whirlwind instantly, erupting into a massive pillar of flame.
4-star fire spell: [Flame Pillar].
Through the spiraling inferno, Miya’s face remained visible, her smile never wavering. She lightly flicked her folded black fan, and the flame-engulfed whirlwind was blown away like mere smoke.
“…!!”
Fwoooosh—!!!
White tried to counterattack with another [Whirlwind], but her spell was effortlessly swallowed by Miya’s flames. As the fire spread inexorably toward her, White felt the cold sting of imminent defeat.
The disparity in skill was a harsh, merciless reality. She was being completely overwhelmed. Since she hadn't yet learned the 4-star [Wind Wall], she could only rely on the [Basic Protective Magic] she had applied to her skin, crossing her arms to shield her face.
It was then that something strange happened.
Whoosh—.
Instead of engulfing her, the flames split apart right in front of her nose. The fire spread in all directions, rising up to form towering walls of flame. It was intentional—a screen to block the view of the referee and the audience.
Inside that isolated, suffocatingly hot space, only White and Miya remained.
White’s admiration for Miya’s elemental control was quickly replaced by instinctive terror as the Priestess approached. Despite her trembling, White tried to maintain her stance. Miya, however, looked completely relaxed.
Miya stopped directly in front of her. Her lips curled into a smile, and her voice, barely audible over the crackling flames, whispered words that White never wanted to hear.
Slowly, a dark shadow fell over White’s face.
She no longer felt the heat or the difficulty in breathing. The fear of the power gap vanished, replaced by something else. Just a few words were enough to ignite an unbearable, white-hot rage inside the kind-hearted princess.
“…What did you say?”
White dropped her formal tone. Despite the menace in her voice, Miya’s smile only grew more sly.
“Why the scary face? It’s not like I said anything wrong.”
“…”
“If you want to hear it again, I’ll repeat it,” Miya said, wagging a finger. “I was talking about your mother, who’s already in heaven, and her pathetic, weak daughter who almost got herself assassinated several times. How can a princess who’s been through all that still be this useless?”
Whooooosh—!!
The rage in White’s chest exploded. Her mind raced at a speed she had never experienced before. In an instant, she calculated and constructed three magic circles simultaneously. For someone who used to struggle with just one, it was a miraculous leap in skill.
Sometimes, extreme fury brings a paradoxical calm. That was White’s state now.
Friendship. Peace. Purity. None of that mattered anymore.
At this moment, she felt she would lose her mind if she didn't land a blow on the black-haired woman in front of her.
Whoosh—.
As the wall of flames receded, the dueling grounds became visible once more. The referee, judges, and students all stared in shock.
White didn't say a word. She simply unleashed a relentless barrage on Miya, drawing upon every drop of her mana.
Pheew—!!
Splash—!
She fired off [Wind Sword] slashes and 4-star [Whirlwind] spells in a frantic flurry. It was the absolute limit of her power.
However, the flames from Miya’s magic circles easily swallowed everything White threw at her. It was an inevitable conclusion.
Miya waved her black fan. Her superior [Elemental Efficiency] allowed her to manifest magic circles far beyond her immediate vicinity. Suddenly, magic circles formed in a perimeter all around White.
“…!”
Whooosh—!
Kaboom—!
A fierce, concentrated assault. The dense fire mana mercilessly consumed White. It looked less like a duel and more like an execution by fire.
Screams tore through the air. Miya held her fan over her mouth, listening to White’s agony with a cold, detached interest.
When the flames finally cleared, White was on her knees, her uniform charred and tattered. She had managed to protect her hair with wind magic, but the tips of her pure white locks were singed. She was in terrible condition.
Yet, despite the excruciating pain, White clung to consciousness. She glared at Miya with a ferocity that refused to break.
“It’s nothing after all.”
Miya had been curious if White was hiding a dark side behind her facade of kindness. But now she was certain: White was just a pure, simple girl. To Miya, she was nothing more than a powerless, uninteresting bug—the kind of person she despised most.
Losing interest, Miya looked down at her with a bored expression.
“Ready to surrender now?” Miya asked, squatting down in front of her.
White, gasping for air and trembling with rage, only glared harder.
“You’re honestly boring. Since you won’t surrender, how about I strip you naked right here? That sounds fun, doesn't it? Your uniform is already a mess. It wouldn't be so bad to let everyone see the princess’s body, right…?”
Another [Wind Sword] struck Miya.
It was weak. Miya didn't even bother to counter it. The spell couldn't even scratch the [Basic Protective Magic] surrounding her. White’s mana was almost entirely depleted from her previous desperate attacks.
“Are you that angry? Do you hate me now?”
“…”
“Ah… my hair.”
Miya looked down at a few strands of black hair that had fallen to the arena floor. Her voice turned cold, as if she had just realized something unforgivable.
In an instant, Miya’s right hand shot out, grabbing White by the hair. Her left hand slammed into White’s abdomen.
Kaboom—!!
“Ugh!!”
Miya repeatedly condensed and detonated fire magic directly against White’s stomach. Held by her hair, White’s body was immobilized, forced to take the full brunt of the explosions.
“You damned woman…!”
Veins throbbed on Miya’s forehead, her face a mask of annoyance and rage. She carefully controlled the intensity of the magic—just enough to cause agonizing pain without knocking White unconscious.
“How dare you touch my hair…!”
“Ah… ahh…”
There was no visible change to Miya’s hair, but the fact that a few strands had been cut by someone like White incited an unquenchable fury within her. White couldn't even scream anymore, only emitting pitiful, sobbing wails.
Yet, she didn't give up. Her pride, her anger, and her sheer will kept her from uttering the words of surrender. And so, Miya continued the torture.
The referee broke into a cold sweat. He wanted to intervene, but since White hadn't surrendered or fainted, the rules tied his hands. He could only hope she would give up soon.
“You thought you could do something to me for the sake of your Empire?”
“Grr…!”
Boom—!
“In the end, you’re helpless.”
“Ahh…”
Boom—!
“Being this weak, why are you so arrogant? Snow White?”
“Aaah, ahh…”
Boom—!
The only sound in the arena was the rhythmic thud of explosive fire magic. Miya’s voice didn't reach the stands, but the students were already whispering in horror.
“Isn't this too much for a duel…?”
“That’s not a fight, it’s torture.”
“Someone should stop it. The Princess is barely hanging on.”
“This is sickening…”
The match should have been over long ago. The referee was seconds away from stopping the duel for the student’s safety, even if it meant overstepping his authority.
White’s bloodshot eyes began to roll back. Her body was screaming for the pain to end. But she couldn't—wouldn't—give up.
Thud.
White’s fist rose weakly, brushing against Miya’s cheek.
The arena went dead silent.
“Oh…”
The veins on Miya’s forehead bulged. She pulled her hand away from White’s mangled abdomen, grabbed her by the throat, and stood up, lifting her off the ground.
“Gag…!”
White couldn't breathe. Fire mana began to swirl around Miya’s free hand. Even now, if White just whispered "surrender," it would be over. But the frustration of her own powerlessness and her hatred for Miya drove her to the brink of madness.
“Let’s end this.”
Miya’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. This was getting dangerous. Even with healing magic, injuries this severe could be life-threatening.
“That’s enough, Miya—!”
Just as the referee was about to shout for the match to stop, a figure appeared suddenly in the center of the arena.
A hand reached out, lightly touching the arm Miya was using to choke White. Miya spun around, glaring at the intruder who dared to touch her.
“Go ahead. Try it.”
The voice was ice-cold.
Silver-blue hair. A blue brooch on his tie, marking him as a second-year. It was Isaac.
He was expressionless, his eyes shadowed by his bangs. But beneath them, his crimson pupils glowed with a terrifying light. The atmosphere in the arena instantly turned heavy and suffocating.
“Hello, Senior? Why are you interfering in our duel?” Miya asked, her voice sweet and her smile forced.
Isaac didn't answer. He simply gestured toward White. Miya followed his gaze.
White’s eyes were rolled back, her body limp. She had finally lost consciousness, her body unable to endure any more pain.
“Ah, she fainted.” Miya chuckled and released her grip.
White’s body collapsed onto the cold floor with a dull thud.
Isaac looked down at the battered girl. For a fleeting moment, a storm of emotions flickered in his heart. Then, his gaze shifted back to Miya. His crimson eyes were as frigid as a winter abyss. A murderous aura began to leak from him, chilling the entire stadium.
The students watched in terrified silence, swallowing hard.
“Miya…”
Isaac’s voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that seemed to press down on the very soul.
“…Duel me. Right now.”