Marcus raised his gaze and analyzed the situation unfolding before him.
Ryun, katana at the ready, was moving swiftly toward the north entrance, every step measured, while Rylan followed closely, trying to close the distance.
To one side, Emma charged toward Victoria, who had de-invoked her spear to run at maximum speed.
Each of Victoria's strides sliced through the air with precision, while Emma twisted and adjusted her trajectory, forced to constantly recalibrate speed and direction to avoid losing her target.
Marcus turned his head back, checking his rear. Just in case.
Duke was struggling to get back up—his leg bleeding, his ankle twisted,swaying with every movement.
Marcus watched him, gauging his strength, and knew Duke's nightmare was about to end.
Finally.
A sigh of relief almost escaped him.
He knew it would have been better to ensure Duke's elimination, but he couldn't afford the distraction.
His priority was still moving, slipping farther away with every passing second.
Rylan burst forward at full speed, every muscle of his monstrous form driving him on, his hair whipped back by the wind cutting through the cave.
But to his frustration, all he could see was Ryun's back pulling farther away. With no immediate alternative, he raised his arm and hurled a saber toward him, trying to force a slowdown.
The prodigy reacted with calculated precision.
Spinning perfectly on his axis, he intercepted Rylan's blade, blocking it without losing speed, and instantly recovered his running posture—displaying overwhelming technique and mastery.
But then, instead of continuing to run, he stopped abruptly and skidded, particles of stone and dust rising around him.
Rylan stared, completely thrown off by Ryun's unexpected maneuver.
Ryun raised his katana, the tip gleaming with lethal sharpness under the cave's light, and aimed it directly at Rylan's torso.
His voice—deep, cold, restrained—cut through the air.
"Damn bastard. That makes twice."
Rylan tilted his head, confusion clear in his eyes.
"Wh—what are you—" he began.
Ryun cut him off.
"That's twice you've thrown your sword. The first time, I let it pass. But I won't allow a second." His tone was firm, severe, mixing reproach with quiet authority. "Don't you know swords are not meant to be thrown?"
Ryun held the katana steady, the blade shining beneath the cave light. His eyes traced Rylan, and an implacable calm settled over him.
"A sword must never leave the hand of the one who wields it," Ryun said, his voice resonating through the clash of footsteps and the wind of battle. "It's not a stone, not a throwing knife, not an arrow. It's an extension of your arm—an instrument of your will."
"When you throw it, you lose control. Every cut, every block, every step depends on the bond you have with it. Break that bond, and you break your own code. A sword is more than a weapon—it is a commitment to your honor as a warrior."
"The ether granted you the ability to wield a sword as a tool of battle—a gift few possess. That is why I respected you as a warrior."
"But you've dishonored it twice. Warrior to warrior. Swordsman to swordsman… I cannot allow it to continue."
"If no one taught you how to use a sword properly, it doesn't matter," Ryun's voice sharpened, cutting deeper. "I will show you how a blade is truly honored."
Ryun let his words fill the air, but his body never stopped moving.
He shifted his weight onto his right leg, stepped forward with the left, and planted both feet firmly. The katana rose to shoulder height, blade leveled at Rylan, ready to intercept any attack.
His shoulders remained relaxed, torso upright, every muscle taut and prepared to react with speed and force. His breathing—controlled, deep, steady.
Rylan summoned the saber he had thrown. It reappeared in his hand.
From Ryun's tone, it was clear a confrontation was inevitable—one that wouldn't end until one of their bracelets glowed red.
Rylan took his stance. His feet spread firmly, left leg slightly forward, right leg braced to drive him in any direction. He held both sabers, one in each hand, angled diagonally, ready to block or counter.
His shoulders lowered—relaxed, yet tense—torso leaning slightly forward, balancing speed and power. Every muscle in his arms and legs was alert, primed to react in fractions of a second.
Unlike Ryun's contained elegance, Rylan radiated restrained aggression—ready to exploit any mistake, to flow both blades in continuous motion, alternating attack and defense.
His eyes never left the enemy katana.
The wind tossed his hair chaotically, a reflection of the energy coiled within him.
The two warriors measured each other, each reading the other's intent. The world around them seemed to fade; only they remained—the blade, and the objective that would define the next second: victory or defeat.
Then, without warning, the first spark of combat exploded into the air.
A clash of wills that promised to be lethally elegant.
Victoria emerged near the north entrance. Her monstrous form dissolved in a burst of vapor, her human body taking shape.
At first, Victoria had believed that whoever touched the egg first would secure a top-three position. That was why, when she saw Marcus take it, logic told her everything was lost—that victory had slipped through her fingers in an instant.
But the egg hadn't dematerialized. Not as the professors would have done to signal the end of the competition.
Which meant the victory condition was different. Holding the egg wasn't enough. The real condition was possession—likely until the end of the exam.
Victoria understood then that it wasn't over. Her objective remained clear: reclaim the egg from Liora and keep it until the end.
And, along the way, avenge what had been done to her companions.
She couldn't help but smile at the thought.
Soon after, Victoria reached a fork in the path, but showed no concern.
She crouched, pressed her palm to the ground, and focused her ether from her Ether Core, guiding it carefully through the etheric channels running down her arm to the tip of her right palm.
She activated the ether technique: Etheric Radar.
The technique consisted of directing ether from the core through the body's channels to an emission point—in this case, the palm. From there, it was released in short, rhythmic pulses that traveled through the environment.
These pulses did not interact with inert matter; they responded only to the ether of other beings, returning information on presence, position, and etheric strength.
The technique allowed her to track, identify, and distinguish targets even amid chaos or dense concentrations of ether.
The response came quickly. Though distorted by the activity of the ants, her training allowed her to identify Liora.
"To the right," Victoria whispered, interpreting the echoes returning through her ether—and sprinted in that direction, confident in her target's path.
Marcus sped past Ryun and Rylan, who were locked in a duel of such intensity he would have sworn it only existed in films.
Every movement looked lethally choreographed, and he had no time to stop and admire it.
He silently thanked whatever deity ruled that world for sparing him from two of the most formidable competitors.
As he glanced back, he saw Victoria exit through the same path Liora had taken. Emma followed shortly after. Marcus immediately understood he couldn't fall behind.
The ant queen blocked his path—massive, imposing—but she wasn't his objective. With rapid, fluid movements, he zigzagged between her legs, using the agility of his monstrous form to evade without losing speed.
His priority was clear.
Marcus reached the edge of the chamber and, with a thought, let his monstrous form fade. In an instant, he regained his human body—more compact, more agile, ideal for sprinting through narrow corridors.
Without losing a second, he launched himself forward.