The moment the spell was cast, the entire arena floor seemed to be swallowed by a strange, dark substance, turning the battlefield into a pitch-black void.
Immediately, the glass panels surrounding Buio began to sink into that darkness.
And the same happened to Edma.
Her feet started to sink into the endless black pit.
A shocked "Ah!" escaped her lips. The moment her feet were fully submerged, she felt a strange draining force, as if something deep below was dragging her down.
But the elf quickly regained her composure.
"Earth Pillar!" Edma chanted.
At once, a massive pillar of earth erupted beneath her feet, lifting her out of the darkness that had begun to consume her and raising her several meters into the air.
However, even that pillar began to sink.
Without hesitation, she cast another spell.
"Glass Sole!"
Then she stepped forward—into empty air.
The audience was utterly confused by what she was doing. Jumping off the very pillar that had just saved her should have placed her in an even worse situation.
And yet—
Even after her feet left the surface of the pillar, she did not fall.
She remained suspended at the same height, as if standing on invisible ground.
But she wasn't floating.
Beneath each of her feet were two small, incredibly durable glass slabs, acting like invisible platforms—like a second pair of soles.
From above, Edma glared down at the object of her hatred.
Buio stood at the base of the sinking pillar, completely unaffected by the darkness. Unlike everything else, he was not sinking. Instead, he looked up at her with a smug, mocking smile, as if silently asking:
"What's wrong, little girl? Why don't you come down here and face me?"
Edma clenched her teeth, forcing herself to ignore the provocation.
She had done her research. She knew exactly what kind of spell he had just used.
It was, after all, the technique that—combined with his cruelty—had earned him the infamous nickname: The Black Pit.
But even so, she hadn't expected it to be this large.
Normally, even among those with an affinity for dark magic, the maximum radius of such a "hole" was only a few meters. What Buio had created far exceeded that.
Enough to send a faint tremor through her entire body.
Dark Pit was a Dark Magic spall that allowed its caster to generate, on any terrain, a layer of viscous black substance in a circular area. Anything that came into contact with it would begin to sink into that tangible, seemingly endless darkness.
As it sank, its mana would be steadily absorbed. And the moment a person or object was completely swallowed, escape became impossible—unless the caster willed it. The caster, on the other hand, remained completely unaffected, able to walk across the surface as if it were solid ground.
That was why Edma had reacted immediately. The instant she felt her mana being drained through her feet, she had acted.
If she had allowed herself to be fully engulfed, her revenge would have ended before it had even begun.
Going back just under a minute, the moment Pinusal sensed Buio casting his signature spell, he reacted without hesitation.
"Sacred Wings!"
Four wings of pure white light formed behind his back.
In the next instant, he took to the air, moving faster than lightning—escaping the spreading darkness just as it began to consume the arena floor.
Without wasting a second, he swooped down and scooped Chiacchera into his arms. As always, she had been standing near one of the arena gates— far enough to not to interfere with the match, but ready to retreat if necessary.
But Pinusal knew she wouldn't have had time to react.
So he acted for her.
"Oh!" Chiacchera gasped, startled as she suddenly found herself lifted into the air.
A faint blush spread across her cheeks as she realized she was being carried like a princess.
"What's happening, Mr. Pinusal? Why—" she began, her voice filled with confusion.
But then she looked down.
The entire arena floor had turned completely black.
Understanding dawned on her instantly.
"…Thank you for saving me, Mr. Pinusal," she said.
"You're welcome," Pinusal replied calmly. "In my view, the role of a referee is not limited to enforcing the rules and ensuring that participants do not go too far. It also includes protecting you and the spectators. So there is no need to thank me—I am simply doing my duty."
His voice carried a quiet, steady wisdom.
He carried her through the gate near which she had been standing just moments before and into one of the corridors used by the participants.
Once inside, he gently set her down.
"Lady Chiacchera, I advise you to remain here until the end of the match. You should be safe."
Chiacchera nodded quickly, her cheeks still faintly flushed.
"All right, then I'll return to the arena fild I can't allow what happened yesterday to happen again," Pinusal said gently before flying back into the arena. He immediately resumed observing every movement of the two combatants with extreme attention.
By now, the glass pates created by Edma had completely sunk into the darkness, and more than half of the earthen pillar on which the elf had stood just moments earlier had already been swallowed. The mana used to create those two spells flowed steadily into Buio, restoring nearly all the mana he had expended so far in the match.
A blissful smile spread across Buio's face.
The sensation of mana pouring into his body was intoxicating.
A sharp sigh escaped Edma's lips, reflecting the deep despair weighing on her heart. Even before the match had begun, she had known she was far from the level required to face someone like Buio. A prodigy like Vala might have stood a chance—but she certainly did not.
Above all, her role within the Sambuco Special Unit was primarily that of support. Her Derived Magic was not suited for direct combat, and most of the earth spells she had mastered were focused on mobility rather than offense.
At first, she had entered the tournament only because Marco had told her that simply knowing she was participating made him ten times braver than usual, without any desire to win.
But after what had happened yesterday, she had coated the bullets in her gun with that lethal poison, hoping that, combined with her Derived Magic, it might help bridge the gap between her and the target of her vengeance.
But even that had proven insufficient.
Nothing she had used so far had managed to harm him.
Did she truly think she could kill him?
'That's ridiculous' That was the answer that echoed in her mind.
And yet, before the thought of giving up could even begin to take root, another kind of poison struck her: words.
"Didn't you want revenge, little girl?" Buio said mockingly. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're just running away. What a disappointment… I was hoping to see the look of despair on another one of you pathetic elves up close…"
He paused, his grin widening.
"Oh well… the expression on that miserable Royal Knight yesterday was enough to satisfy me."
His voice turned colder.
"You're lucky, little girl. I'll give you ten seconds to surrender."
His tone dripped with deliberate contempt.
In that instant, the dark flames of hatred reignited within Edma's heart, spreading through her entire body.
Was she truly out of options?
Had she really used everything she had?
No.
Absolutely not.
There was still one final card she could play.
The only reason she hadn't used it yet was because of the overwhelming probability that it would fail—and kill her in the process.
But she had already declared she was willing to give her life for revenge.
There was no room left for hesitation.
Her face twisted with rage and desperate resolve as she pulled an Elemental Crossbow from beneath her cloak.
It was one of the standard Crossbows distributed to members of Sambuco, crafted using materials from a normal Over Beast. In this particular case, the beast had possessed an affinity for Fire Magic.
It was identical to the first of the two Crossbows Macro had used in his match against Vala.
Edma loaded an arrow and aimed down from her elevated position at the vice-captain of the Dark Knights.
Then she began channeling mana into the weapon.
After a few seconds, the arrow began to glow with a red light. At that point, it was already ready to be fired.
But she didn't stop.
She continued pouring more and more mana into it, and the glow intensified.
From the stands, Macro's eyes widened in alarm, his expression turning pale with concern. He immediately understood what she was trying to do.
She was overloading the arrow. And that was an incredibly dangerous decision.
It was true that an overloaded arrow could unleash power dozens—or even hundreds—of times greater, depending on how much mana was forced into it.
But the risk was enormous.
The moment the arrow was fired and the mana began to release, there was a very high chance it would explode instead—triggering a devastating blast of flames that would almost certainly incinerate Edma instantly.
The probability of such an outcome was terrifyingly high—around ninety percent—a conclusion confirmed through multiple experiments conducted with Heve's assistance.
Edma knew all of this.
It had been explained clearly when the Elemental Crossbows were first introduced to the Sambuco unit.
But at that moment, she didn't care. There was no space left in her heart or mind for fear. Hatred and rage had consumed everything else.
She had poured almost all of her remaining mana into it.
The red glow of the arrow had grown so intense it nearly blinded her.
And yet, she did not close her eyes for even a second.
Because she knew—
This blinding light was the signal. The arrow was ready to be fired.
Buio saw the light radiating from the crossbow, but he didn't seem particularly worried or impressed. He simply raised his sword into a defensive stance, and black and purple sparks? began to flicker around its blade.
Without any further hesitation, the elf pulled the trigger.
The arrow was fired.
Macro let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. There was no explosion. The arrow had been released successfully, even though the crossbow itself disassembled the instant the projectile left it. The Minister of Technology didn't have any particular relationship with Edma—he had only spoken to her a few times during his time at the Frassino Academy —but the thought of someone dying because of a flaw in one of his creations was something he absolutely could not bear.
"DIE, YOU BASTARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Edma screamed.
Fueled by the immense amount of mana infused into it, the arrow instantly surpassed the speed of sound, reaching a velocity comparable to lightning, and arrived at Buio's position in less than a heartbeat.
But the vice-captain of the Dark Knights, relying on his vast combat experience, had already anticipated where she would aim. He adjusted his stance at the last moment, angling his blade so that the flat of the sword acted as a shield.
Even so, both Edma and Macro believed the same thing:
Even if he managed to deflect the arrow, the explosion of flames would still engulf him.
But—
On the surface of Buio's sword, exactly where the arrow was about to strike, something appeared.
A "flame".
Black… tinged with deep purple.
No—more than a flame, it was darkness itself, shaped like fire.
"What?!" Edma gasped in shock.
The moment the arrow made contact with that unnatural blaze, its brilliant light was swallowed, dimming almost completely. And when it finally struck the blade—
There was no explosion.
The arrow simply shattered.
Its broken pieces fell harmlessly to the ground, just like those of any ordinary arrow.
Then the darkness spread. Like oil poured over a flame, it expanded, engulfing the entire sword.
The instant the shattered remains of the arrow touched the ground, the flames of Edma's hatred and rage were smothered by an overwhelming darkness of despair.
Her eyes lost all their light.
And as that despair took hold of her, Buio vanished from the ground.
In the next moment, he reappeared less than a meter away, straight in front of her. He had leapt high into the air, reaching the same height at which she stood.
"Dark Hand: Large," Buio chanted.
A massive hand—similar to the ones he had used earlier—rose from the darkness below, instantly reaching both him and Edma, serving as a platform beneath his feet.
Landing atop it, Buio looked straight into the elf's eyes and said, his voice filled with twisted delight:
"This is exactly the face I wanted to see."
A cruel smile stretched across his lips.
Then, moving with terrifying speed, he closed the remaining distance—coming within less than a centimeter of her—and raised his sword, now cloaked in that flame-like darkness, ready to deliver the same fate that had befallen her beloved.
Edma did not move. All hope had already left her.
But just as Buio's blade was about to strike—
It stopped.
Caught.
Held back by a single hand.
"I have made my decision," Pinusal declared calmly, having intercepted the blade just a millimeter before it could reach Edma.
"The winner of this match is Buio Raguidel."
And so, the final match of the second and concluding day of the preliminaries came to an end.