Ash darted forward again, his sword flaring with light as he closed the distance to the tank's flank.
Clang! His strike landed, cutting through the man's armour. Not deep, but enough to draw blood.
The tank roared in fury, turning and slamming his sword down — BOOM! — the ground cracked under the weight.
Ash barely rolled away, feeling the wind of the strike rush past his face.
Ray used the opening — shing! — slicing across the man's arm.
The tank staggered, but he didn't fall. His endurance was monstrous.
Maya finished her chant. "Piercing Wind!"
A massive blade of condensed air shot forward — whooosh! — striking the tank dead centre.
BANG!
He was thrown backward, crashing into the far edge of the platform with a deafening thud.
Silence fell.
Everyone stared.
The tank groaned, trying to push himself up, but his sword clattered from his grasp. His teammates rushed toward him, but he raised a hand weakly. "Enough… we concede."
The proctor nodded. "Match over! Team Seven wins!"
For a second, there was quiet disbelief.
Then the crowd exploded.
"THEY WON!"
"They beat him!"
"Unbelievable!"
Cheers rolled across the arena like waves, echoing off every wall.
Ash stood there, panting hard, his sword tip resting against the ground. His chest heaved with each breath, sweat glistening on his brow.
Ray sheathed his sword, grinning faintly. "That was one tough guy. But we won in the end."
Ash laughed breathlessly. "Barely."
Ash dropped to one knee, panting, his sword tip scraping against the stone. His arms ached, his ribs burned, and sweat dripped freely down his face.
Ray spoke again breathing heavily but grinning. "Still… that was fun."
Maya stumbled toward them, her face flushed but smiling. "Speak for yourself… I think I broke something."
Ash chuckled weakly. "Hold still."
He lifted his right hand, faint light gathering around his palm—a soft, golden glow that pulsed rhythmically, almost soothing. He focused his mana carefully, spreading it outward.
Golden motes drifted from his hand—three streams branching off at once, flowing toward Maya and Ray.
"Whoa—" Ray blinked as the light surrounded him.
Maya looked down in surprise as warmth flooded through her body, dulling the pain in her arm, the bruises fading before her eyes.
In mere seconds, all three of them were restored—their wounds vanishing, energy returning. Except for Ash, who felt a different kind of exhaustion setting in.
[Mana - 29/ 171]
He had used quite a bit of his mana in the fight, and now healing all three of them had taken quite a toll on his reserves. Still, it was better than being in pain because of the bruises.
Ash exhaled slowly, dropping his hand. "There. Good as new."
Ray stared at his forearm, the faint cut now completely gone. "You… healed us all at once?"
Maya's eyes were wide. "That's… not possible. I've never even heard of a healer doing that without collapsing."
Ash shrugged, looking embarrassed. "Guess I'm just efficient."
Maya looked at him, bewildered, " Efficient does not even begin to explain anything about healing three people at once!"
Up on the observation deck, Count Hall had frozen mid-motion, his fingers hovering above his beard. His calm composure wavered for just a moment as his sharp eyes flicked toward Ash.
'Three targets… simultaneous healing… and not a hint of exhaustion afterward. Where have I seen that kind of skill before.' A memory of a certain saint flashed into his mind. He shook his head a few seconds later. 'No, she is on another level compared to that brat, her spells can heal thousands at once. Still, who is to say he went all out? Not I'm sure he burned through his mana reserves with that trick. But impressive nonetheless.'
Even among professional clerics, that was near-impossible.
"Interesting," he murmured softly, almost to himself.
He straightened, schooling his expression back into indifference, though the corner of his mouth tugged upward faintly.
'I have to admit though, that level of control at his age… remarkable.'
His gaze drifted over the six combatants still on the stage—all six radiating potential, raw and untamed.
'They are all exceptional in their own right. What a year indeed', he thought, a small smirk ghosting across his lips. 'Such a fine harvest…'
Down below, Ash was already teasing Maya. "So, were you planning on getting eliminated there and leave us two alone in the fight?"
She rolled her eyes. "Ha. Ha. Maybe if someone covered me faster, I wouldn't have to take arrows to the ribs."
Ray snorted. "She's got a point."
Ash threw up his hands. "Oh sure, blame the healer. Never mind the human wall over there," he said, nodding at Ray.
Maya giggled softly despite herself. The crowd continued to cheer.
Above them, Count Hall finally leaned back in his chair, eyes still glinting, as if finally coming to a silent decision.
"Yes…" he murmured under his breath, almost amused. "It would be foolish of us not to take them in."
Count Hall's calm voice echoed over the arena, his tone carrying a rare hint of approval. "Outstanding. Truly outstanding."
Ash looked up toward the stands, catching the count's gaze for a split second. The old man's eyes glinted with quiet amusement.
Then Ash turned to his team. "Well," he said with a grin, "I think we just made an impression."
Ray smirked. "You think?"
Maya laughed. "Let's just hope it's a good one."
Ash chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "At this point, I'll take anything that doesn't involve another round."
...
When Ash and his team finally stepped off the platform, the momentary quiet shattered.
A tidal wave of people swarmed toward them.
"Ash! That was incredible!"
"Hey! You moved so fast, how'd you do that?"
"Teach me that sword trick!"
And before he knew it, Ash found himself surrounded — not by enemies this time, but by admirers.
And girls. Lots of them.
They circled him like bees to honey, standing far too close for comfort. Two of them clung to his arm, pressing their chest against him with a giggle. Another leaned on his shoulder. Someone even looped an arm around his neck from behind, whispering in his ear, "You were amazing out there, handsome."
Ash froze. His brain short-circuited.