Percy knelt quietly beside Angelica, gently lowering her onto a makeshift bed assembled from cloaks and folded robes. Every movement was deliberate—not just careful, but reverent.
Her breathing was shallow but steady. A soft heat radiated from her skin. Her cheeks flushed with a rose-colored fever, her body trembled slightly beneath her cloak.
"She pushed too hard… because of me."
He hovered close, worry etched into his features. Guilt curled in his stomach like smoke.
"Angel... are you okay?" he asked quietly, his voice barely audible.
She didn't respond.
Just the sound of her breathing.
Before he could spiral further, a hand rested on his shoulder.
Percy turned.
Dalton.
No teasing grin this time. Just concern. Genuine, quiet concern.
"Hey, don't worry. From the looks of it… she's going through MES."
Percy blinked.
"MES?"
Dalton nodded, crouching beside him.
"Mana Exhaustion Syndrome. It happens when someone burns through more mana than their body can handle."
"It's not fatal—just... rough."
Percy's posture eased, but the tightness in his chest remained.
Dalton continued, his voice steady but soft:
"Common symptoms are: fever, high body temperature, rapid heart rate, shortness of breath, blurred vision... and more importantly, delayed mana recovery. It makes every system in the body fight harder than it should."
Percy absorbed each word, eyes never leaving Angelica's pale face.
"How long until she's back to normal?"
Dalton offered a faint smile—gentle, reassuring.
"Rest. That's the cure. No training, no spells. Just sleep, hydration, and time."
Percy exhaled. The tension in his shoulders began to release.
She's going to be okay.
In the background, the arena was being reset. The next match was drawing near.
Percy finally stood, his eyes lingering on Angelica for a moment longer before facing the stage.
"When's your match?" he asked.
Dalton looked up, a spark of determination flickering in his tired expression.
"Soon," he said.
"Very soon."
His voice held quiet resolve.
"I'm slated for the third match," he added, scanning the crowd. "After your win against Angelica, you're officially in the finals."
He turned back to Percy, brow furrowed slightly.
"So… who do you think you're fighting for the top spot?"
The question hung in the air—a quiet challenge, a test, and a warning.
Because whoever waited in that final match... would have to face Percy at his most conflicted.
And Dalton wasn't sure if that would make him stronger—
Or more dangerous.
Percy, who had fallen into silence after Angelica's collapse, finally spoke again—his voice low, but intent.
"Hey… Dalton."
Dalton looked over, sensing the shift in tone.
"Are there any mana-related conditions that affect the mind?" Percy asked.
Dalton squinted slightly.
"You'll have to narrow that down. Symptoms?"
Percy hesitated, just briefly.
"Headaches. Migraines. Stuff that gets worse under pressure."
Dalton tapped his chin.
"Hmm… sounds like COS."
"COS?" Percy repeated, brows drawing together.
"Yeah—Cognitive Overload Syndrome. It's kind of rare, but not unheard of. Happens when someone's exposed to too much sensory or magical input too quickly. Usually tied to excessive mana usage or prolonged mental strain."
Percy's eyes sharpened, absorbing each word.
"So like… mental overdrive?"
Dalton blinked, surprised.
"Huh. Haven't heard that term in years. That's the old name for it, yeah—before we understood how it actually works."
He waved his hand casually, conjuring small shadow puppets—miniature mages acting out his explanation.
"The symptoms of COS go deeper than just headaches. You've got:
Distorted vision—your eyes can't process mana signals correctly.Hallucinations, both visual and auditory.Thunderclap migraines—blinding, sudden pain, often triggered by strain.Seizures—in extreme cases.Nerve and muscle weakness, because your nervous system gets overtaxed.Abnormal behavior—anger, fatigue, spacing out.Temporary memory loss.And weird ones, like repetitive motions—tics, compulsions, even stimming behaviors."
He looked up from the puppets, which vanished in a puff of light.
"So… why do you ask?"
Percy's voice came too quickly.
"No reason. Just… wondering."
Dalton gave him a long look.
But didn't press.
"Alright, man."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment before Percy tilted his head.
"How do you know all this? You're not a medic."
Dalton didn't look at him. Just smirked faintly.
"Thought your little background check would've told you that."
Percy coughed into his hand, turning away.
"...Didn't get that far."
Dalton laughed softly and slung an arm around his shoulder.
"You're gonna hold that over me, aren't you?" Percy muttered.
"What do you think, buddy?"
They both chuckled, and for once… there was no tension between them.
Just quiet trust.
But then Dalton's tone shifted—his voice softening.
"Anyway… the reason I know all this…"
He paused.
"Before everything fell apart, my mom was an Arcane Physician. She was planning to open a clinic with my dad. I was just a kid, but… I loved how she explained things. The way the body worked. How mana flowed like blood. She'd let me sit in during prep work."
Percy glanced over, letting the silence fill the space between them.
Dalton's voice lowered.
"After my dad died, she just… couldn't handle it. She tried, at first. But eventually, she gave up. Stopped eating. Stopped talking."
His eyes grew distant.
Percy quietly watched the distant look in Dalton's eyes—eyes that didn't quite match his usual bold tone. There was a stillness there. A silence too heavy to name.
{I know that look.}
{It's the one I wore when they died.}
Without thinking, his hand lifted—lightly resting against Dalton's cheek.
Both boys froze.
The moment passed between them like a static charge. Neither spoke.
"It's okay," Percy said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"I get what you're trying to say."
Dalton smirked. But his heart gave a traitorous beat.
He reached down and—without much thought—brushed his thumb gently across Percy's cheek.
"Sorry," he said casually. "You had dust from your fight."
Percy didn't pull away.
"Thanks," he replied.
And just for a moment, they existed in a quiet that felt safe.
Until Angelica coughed softly from behind them.
Percy's gaze snapped back, all concern immediately redirected.
He leaned down to check on her, the tension in his shoulders returning with quiet urgency.
Dalton stayed where he was, watching Percy, then looking away with a nervous chuckle.
"...Weird," he muttered to himself.
{Why does a guy make my heart beat?}
Up on the stage, Helen reappeared, golden hair catching the moonlight like molten silk.
"The winner of Match Two: Lyra Caelumis!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, the domain labyrinth pulsing with their excitement.
"Now, will examinees 14 and 2 please approach the stage?"
Dalton stood, exhaling slowly as he moved to the stage.
But then—
"DALTON!"
Percy's voice thundered across the crowd.
Dalton turned, stunned—only to see Percy smirking with full confidence.
"Can't wait to fight you in the finals!"
Dalton barked a laugh, his spirit reigniting.
"Wouldn't expect anything less. It'd be disappointing if someone else beat me to you."
He turned toward the arena, his stride steady.
Helen's voice rang loud and clear.
"Match Three—Dalton Greeves vs. Lucas Doran! Begin!"
The crowd tensed.
Dalton and Lucas stared each other down—Dalton calm, composed. Lucas… sweating.
"Great. Of all people, I get the demon-slayer-in-training."
Lucas muttered under his breath, already regretting his life choices.
Dalton didn't wait.
"Flaming Strike!"
His sword ignited, cleaving forward in a blaze of fire.
Lucas threw up a metallic shield just in time.
"Think your flames can touch me?" he sneered, firing molten metal shards like bullets from a forge.
Dalton's sword shimmered with metallic magic, deflecting each shard with practiced grace.
"Your arrogance blinds you."
"Light Burst."
A flash of brilliance exploded from his blade, forcing Lucas to shield his eyes.
Lucas staggered, fury twisting his features.
"You'll pay for that!"
"Inferno Wave!"
A tidal wall of fire erupted, surging toward Dalton.
But Dalton's demeanor didn't break.
He raised his hand.
"Shadow Barrier."
A dome of darkness encased him, the flames hissing into nothing against its surface.
"You rely too much on brute force," Dalton said, stepping through the smoke.
"Let me show you something else."
Lucas screamed in defiance, channeling both metal and fire into his blade.
"TRY ME!"
Dalton exhaled.
His sword began to glow—not with one element, but two.
Light. Darkness.
"Eclipsing Strike!"
He surged forward, blade splitting the air—half radiant, half shadow.
The impact struck Lucas like a collapsing star—sending him flying across the arena.
Silence.
Then the dull thud of Lucas hitting the floor.
Lucas wobbled, struggling to his feet, eyes wild with desperation and ego bruised beyond repair.
"You… won't defeat me that easily!" he roared, summoning the last flickers of his mana.
His blade ignited—Blazing Metal Fury—a molten fusion of fire and steel erupted like a dying sun, surging toward Dalton in a final, reckless charge.
Dalton exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing.
"It's over, Lucas."
He raised his blade—now glowing with layered energy, a silent cascade of metal, light, fire, and darkness dancing in harmony.
No words. No name. Just will.
He moved.
And Lucas's world shattered.
The strike cleaved through the assault, tore past his defenses, and stripped the weapon from his hands in a single, blinding motion.
Lucas dropped to his knees, breath ragged, pride shattered.
The crowd—silent for a breath—erupted into thunderous cheers.
But Lucas wasn't done snarling.
"You made me look bad in front of everyone, you bastard!" he spat, eyes filled with rage.
"This isn't over!"
Dalton, sheathing his blade, looked down at him—not as a rival, but a cautionary tale.
"You did that to yourself. Arrogance and anger are their own punishment."
Helen's voice rang out like celestial thunder:
"Victory to Dalton Greeves!"
The cheers redoubled, echoing through the labyrinth with unrestrained admiration.
As the adrenaline faded, the moon broke through the tree line, casting a silver veil across the arena.
Dalton stood still—bathed in its light.
And from where Percy sat, watching in quiet awe, the word formed on instinct.
Majestic.
There was no rivalry in that moment.
Only reverence.
Their eyes met—briefly.
Percy smiled. Just once.
Then turned away, gaze shifting to Angelica, who still rested under their watch.
His heart, though calmer, was far from still.
Time passed. Matches blurred into memory. The arena dimmed, then glowed anew.
And then—Helen rose once more, standing atop her spectral dragon with poise only a warrior-scholar could wear.
"Ladies and gentlemen… we have reached the final chapter of the Magical Duels."
"Please offer your applause to the final ten—these brave students who fought not only for victory, but for self-discovery."
The crowd's ovation was immediate and overwhelming.
As Helen's gaze swept the finalists… it paused. On Percy.
Just a second too long.
Just long enough.
Percy, of course, noticed.
{She's still watching me. Even now.}
Beta stirred in his mind—just waking up from a nap.
"W-What's going on?"
Percy smirked softly.
"Helen. She knows who I am."
Beta blinked, then squinted at Helen from the safety of Percy's mindscape.
"Oh… that. Honestly? Might be a good thing."
"How?" Percy asked, keeping his voice low.
Beta straightened herself with a mock-serious look.
"She's the guild master of the Azure Dragon Syndicate—they don't exactly make weaklings. Plus, she's known as Shenlong and holds serious sway with Solarskis."
"If things ever go sideways, she's someone you'd want watching your back."
Percy's smile faded slightly.
"Maybe… but something about it feels off."
His tone dropped into thoughtfulness, laced with suspicion.
"With all her power, reputation, and connections, she has no reason to care about someone like me.
A student. A nobody… at least on paper."
He glanced up at Helen again—eyes sharp as ever.
"So why show interest now?"
Beta's voice, for once, was careful. Thoughtful.
"You're right, Master," she said. "But despite all her advantages… there must be something inside you the system hasn't identified yet."
Percy arched a brow. That caught his attention.
"The Infinite Omega System isn't fully unlocked," Beta continued. "After the next system update… we might uncover truths even you don't know. Secrets woven into your very being."
Percy's pulse quickened.
"Wait—secrets? Hidden inside me? Is something wrong with me?"
Silence.
Beta didn't answer. Couldn't.
The last time she'd tried, the system had lashed back—a protective response even she couldn't override.
Even as the system admin… I'm still bound, she thought.
Percy leaned back, trying to shake the unease clawing at his chest.
I don't think I'm anything special. Just some ordinary guy who got handed a cosmic system that messes with time and space.
He scoffed under his breath, trying to sound amused.
*So what? Even if her dragon eyes—Helen's infamous gaze—see through illusions, they shouldn't be able to pierce the Omega System.
Even if… some power exists that can override it—
His confidence faltered.
…all power has limits. Right?
He didn't believe his own words.
Helen's voice soared once more, commanding and graceful as ever:
"These ten individuals have proven their worth and entered the top ten.
Let the world witness the finest of this generation."
She began to name the finalists.
"Percy Atlas Magus.
Dalton Greeves.
Lyra Caelumis.
Ethan Stride.
Emma Sabrelan.
Mei Wugongshi.
Aria Klingenhart.
Marcus Vestalyn.
Ava Tsurugikin."
Percy's mind instantly noticed what many others missed—only nine names.
He wasn't the only one. Spectators began to whisper. The sacred families leaned forward. Even the judges turned.
Helen smiled.
"I'm sure you're wondering who the tenth finalist is," she said, her voice tinged with amusement.
"Worry not. The final contender hails from one of the sacred mage families…"
Every gaze turned to the mage family section. Even the matriarchs sat up straighter.
"This individual was cast aside—not for failure, but for difference."
"Shunned by his family, abandoned without aid, he carved a path through his own shadows."
The crowd leaned in.
Percy's heartbeat quickened.
Helen's voice softened, but carried deeper weight now—something between pride and sorrow.
"His brilliance was called disgrace.
His strength—rejected.
But today… his light returns."
And then—her voice rang like a bell:
"I give you… JASON LUNARAE!"
A blinding burst of light erupted from the center of the arena.
A radiant portal tore through reality.
From within it… stepped a figure.
He moved slowly, almost casually—a cloak rippling behind him like a veil of night.
When the cloak dropped—
The crowd gasped.
Golden hair.
Blood-red eyes.
Caramel skin.
And a face carved from stillness.
He was sunlight encased in marble.
Unfeeling. Unshakable.
Jason Lunarae stood in full view, unmoved by the ovation—or the fear.
Gasps rippled through the families.
The name Lunarae struck deep.
"He's supposed to be hidden…"
"Did the matriarch approve this?"
"No—this is him. The hidden son…"
Even Lyra Caelumis, always the favorite, shivered.
Jason's gaze swept the crowd—devouring everything it touched.
But then—he found Percy.
And froze.
Not in fear. Not in rage.
But in curiosity.
"...Interesting," Jason murmured, voice barely audible.
Percy, the only one unmoved by the light, stared back. His expression unreadable.
Their gazes locked.
Helen smiled faintly as murmurs turned into a storm of cheers and disbelief.
"Now that all our finalists have been revealed…
Let us witness who among them will rise to the top!"
The energy in the domain crackled—half awe, half dread.
Contestants whispered. Families tensed. Judges readied.
And Percy?
He stood still.
His thoughts sharp.
Jason Lunarae. Hidden from the world.
Revealed by his own hand.
Why now? Why me?
But deep beneath the questions…
A quiet flame flickered.
It doesn't matter. Whoever he is—
I'll be ready.