As Aurora made her way back to Charlotte's side, her steps faltered.
The fight had taken more out of her than she was willing to admit. All that nonstop barrage from Valeria, the Witch of the Blade, had taken too much of her.
Even with the Lunarian Principle, supplying her with near-unlimited mana, it wasn't enough.
Compared to Valeria, who could be associated with a refined gem, Aurora was a diamond in the rough.
All those intricate spells, explosive firepower, and the powerful circulation technique.
It was not enough. Unlike Aurora, who had only properly studied magic for a few weeks, Valeria was training with experience on hand. Fighting with magical creatures on the borders of the Witching Hour and the world of the Barebloods.
When put with Experience VS Explosiveness, Valeria would have won if Iskaryon hadn't been called.
As she collapses, before her body could hit the stone floor, space folded.
A thin violet rift opened beneath her and she disappeared, sent towards the Lunarium.
Charlotte didn't even look down.
"She'll be fine," she said lightly, though her eyes lingered for a fraction longer than usual before returning to the arena.
Across the field, Valeria remained where she had fallen, breathing heavily, her body still trembling from the aftermath of Iskaryon's strike.
Witches issued by the senate healed her with earnest to save her from that blow.
Regardless, no one was looking at her anymore.
Because Edith had already moved.
She stepped forward—no, leapt—landing at the center of the arena with a force that cracked the stone beneath her feet.
Mana surged.
"CHARLOTTE! COME!!" Her voice thundered across the arena, echoing through Nocturne itself.
The crowd stirred. Witches leaned forward. Supernaturals held their breath. Even the air itself felt heavier.
Then—
A ripple.
Not from above. Not from the sides. From below. A circular gate unfolded beneath Charlotte's feet like a blooming flower of violet light.
She didn't step into it. She let herself fall.
And in the next instant—
She emerged directly in front of Edith.
Perfectly composed.
Smiling.
As if this was nothing more than a casual meeting. But the moment she appeared, the pressure had changed.
Subtle. Almost unnoticeable.
Yet every witch in the arena felt it.
The Heretical Witch… had stepped onto the stage.
The moment Charlotte landed—
The arena shifted.
Not by force. But by presence.
A hush spread across Nocturne, rippling through witches and supernaturals alike.
Conversations died mid-sentence. It was their first time seeing the Heretic fight.
They were excited.
Even the air itself felt… heavier.
Above, witches and supernaturals alike leaned forward. Below, students whispered. Even the Senate watched without interruption. Edith stood across her.
"…So," Edith rolled her shoulders, mana slowly leaking from her skin like heat. "You're the one who broke and made that Calamity into something far more dangerous."
A few in the Welsch section stiffened at that.
Charlotte tilted her head.
"I didn't break anything," she said lightly. "I just showed her there were more options."
Murmurs spread.
Options.
That word alone felt like blasphemy to some.
Edith smiled. "Good," she said. "Then show me. I've been itching for it."
No signal. No countdown.
Edith moved first.
She vanished.
Gasps erupted across the arena. Not teleportation. Not Space Magic.
Speed. Raw, overwhelming speed enhanced through Great Genesis Circulation and her Martial Magic spell.
A few of the older witches narrowed their eyes immediately. "She's already using Panthera-level output…" one muttered.
Charlotte's eyes flicked—
A fist already in front of her face.
She leaned.
Barely.
The punch missed—
The air behind her exploded.
Stone shattered. A shockwave tore across the arena wall.
The crowd flinched.
"That's… without a weapon?" someone whispered.
Charlotte smiled.
"That's nice."
Edith didn't stop.
Second strike—
Charlotte raised a hand.
A layered barrier, a common spell all students that wished to learn magic properly needed to learn, formed—
Shattering instantly.
The impact still sent Charlotte sliding back, carving into the stone. The D'Arcels leaned forward. Lucien's eyes sharpened.
"…She didn't reinforce properly," he murmured.
"No," Marielle replied quietly. "She didn't need to."
Edith pressed forward.
"Still playing?" she asked.
Charlotte exhaled.
Then—
The space beside Edith folded.
A spike of compressed mana erupted from her blind spot.
A collective intake of breath.
"No runes—?!" a young witch blurted out.
Edith twisted—
Blocked it with her forearm. The impact rang.
"…Runeless," Edith muttered.
"Yep."
Charlotte vanished.
This time—
Even the experienced ones noticed.
"That wasn't movement…" one of the Senate witches whispered.
Charlotte reappeared behind Edith—
Palm strike—
Connected.
And yet—
Nothing happened.
Charlotte blinked.
Edith grinned.
"Too soft."
She grabbed Charlotte's wrist—
And slammed her into the ground.
The arena shook. Cracks spread outward. The crowd roared.
"That's more like it!"
Before the dust settled—
Charlotte kicked upward, flipping away cleanly, cleaning the dust that had rested on her clothes.
"…Okay," she muttered. "You hit harder than you look."
Edith laughed.
"And you're lighter than I expected."
They moved again.
Faster. Cleaner. Deadlier.
Edith stepped—
The ground shattered beneath her.
Charlotte responded—
Gates. Space Magic. The portals appeared whenever Edith tried to punch Charlotte.
It was an unbelievable sight. Charlotte redirecting Edith's punches. Edith had to change her battle plan.
Feints after feints and blow after blow. It was as if Edith was fighting herself whenever her own fists hit her.
When Edith was getting faster and faster, Charlotte changed her battle plan too.
Shooting balls of magic as she evades Edith's punches: Fire, Ice, Water, etc. Charlotte was pulling every element and every spell that the Witching Hour were accustomed to.
It was a marvelous sight. Edith deflecting and destroying spells with her fists while chasing after Charlotte.
The crowd was shocked of course. They never saw how Charlotte fought and they never saw Edith going serious.
What the crowd was surprised about the most was not that. It was Charlotte's runeless casting. The witches who knew it when she proposed it in the Hall of Witches.
For the apprentices and young witches, they were very much surprised.
No chant.
No delay.
Edith walked through it.
Each strike shattered against reinforced limbs.
Though one pure essence of Mana Bolt slipped through—
It hit.
Edith stopped in her tracks, Blood.
Her defenses were broken down. To be specific, it was analyzed and dispelled.
The entire arena went still.
Edith touched her cheek. Looked at it. Then smiled wider.
"…Good." The pressure spiked.
Panthera. Fully engaged and the limits of her body fully unlocked.
Even the Senate felt it.
"Her circulation's peaking…"
"She's not holding back anymore."
She vanished again.
This time—
Charlotte was hit.
Once.
Twice.
A third—
Barely blocked. Charlotte slid back, breath catching.
"…You're fast."
"And you're thinking too much."
Punch—
Charlotte redirected with another space magic portal—
The force bent sideways—
Still destroyed part of the arena.
Gasps. Shock. The entire spectators watching were getting more and more surprised as the fight progresses.
Charlotte countered. In that instance, she had fully copied Edith's signature spell, Panthera.
Edith just smiled, eerily.
"You just—what?"
The crowd, especially the Panthera family were very much surprised on what is happening before them.
"She replicated it instantly?!"
As Charlotte exhaled, she prepared a stance.
"Come!"
Both Edith and Charlotte stepped forward, punching each other with the force of great explosiveness and the speed of a gale.
The fight was getting more and more unlike witches. Even witches and supernaturals watching were surprised at what was happening.
As they both finished with the same spell, Breaker Fist, hitting each other in their faces.
Smoke filled the arena.
Silence fell.
From the stands—
Theodore leaned forward, fists clenched.
"…Ms. Charlotte…"
Lilith hovered quietly beside him, its wings barely moving as it observed. Even it was… watching.
A step. Charlotte emerged first. Unharmed.
Edith followed, bruised but moving. Grinning.
"…Now we're talking."
Charlotte raised her hand.
But didn't attack.
The air changed.
Subtle, but wrong.
The older witches felt it first.
"…Something's off."
"The mana flow…"
Edith moved—
Then stopped. Just for a fraction.
Charlotte stepped in.
"I have given thee courtesy enough."
Some of the young supernaturals recognized what I just said and the older ones, witches and supernaturals alike, just thought I was just speaking in old language.
As Charlotte raised her hand, people prepared for what's about to come.
People stood. No one sat anymore. The Welsch. The D'Arcels. The Senate. Everyone.
Tradition and Heresy colliding in real time.
Then—
A shift.
A mistake.
Or something made to look like one.
Space itself was distorting above. Mana was behaving wrong. It felt.. Too alien to what witches knew. The old witches noticed it first.
A Singularity. That's what she had called it. The peak of Space Magic. A black hole. Hovered above the arena, sucking debris and people alike.
With the help of witches, holding the people in place before they could get sucked towards the spell.
Edith just froze there.
Just for a second.
And everyone—
felt it.
Silence. Total. Absolute.
Edith exhaled as she stared toward the spell. The pressure around her vanished.
"…I lost."
The words echoed. Not loudly. But clearly. The arena erupted. Not in cheers. Not in outrage. But in something far more dangerous, uncertainty.
Charlotte lowered her hand.
"Yep."
Casual. Like always.
Edith stared—
Then laughed. Loud. Unrestrained.
"…You fucker. You were holding back."
"That I did," Charlotte giggled.
The arena did not settle. If anything, the noise only grew. Not cheers. Not outrage. Something far more unstable. Voices overlapped, clashed, argued—witches and supernaturals alike trying to make sense of what they had just witnessed.
In the stands, the Welsch remained silent. For once, completely silent.
Aurora, who had just returned from the Lunarium, now stood behind Charlotte, still slightly unsteady from her earlier collapse.
Her eyes remained locked on the arena floor where Edith had stood.
"…She won," Aurora muttered quietly, almost as if confirming it for herself.
Not through power. Not through overwhelming force. But through understanding.
Beside her, Theodore leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the railing. His breathing had slowed, but his eyes hadn't left Charlotte for even a second.
Lilith hovered quietly beside him, its small wings barely moving, its gaze fixed forward. Unlike Theodore, it did not look surprised. It looked… attentive. As if learning.
Meanwhile, Persephone watched silently beside her family from the stands, her posture straight, her expression unchanged. To anyone else, she looked as composed as ever. Distant, detached from the chaos unfolding below. But within her Crystallization, everything was being recorded with perfect clarity. The flow of mana, the instability of spells, the subtle shifts in control, Nothing escaped her notice. Her gaze followed Charlotte the moment she stepped onto the field, unblinking. And for the briefest moment, something stirred beneath that flawless stillness, not enough to be called emotion, not enough to break her
Below—
Edith stretched her shoulders as if the fight had only just warmed her up.
"You're not normal. From the very start, you never went full on," she said, grinning.
"Not even close." Charlotte shrugged. "I get that a lot."
Edith laughed again, then glanced briefly toward the stands—toward the other witches.
"Are you all seeing this?" she called out. "Or are you still pretending this is something you can ignore?"
The question hit harder than the fight itself.
A few witches looked away. Others tightened their expressions. Because they had seen it. Not just strength. Not just skill. But a method. A way of thinking that directly opposed everything they had built their foundations on. From the upper platform, Mistress Mildred Rossi finally stepped forward.
Her presence alone didn't crush the air like the Arch-Witches. But it commanded attention just as effectively.
"That is enough," she said calmly.
And the arena listened. Even Edith clicked her tongue and stepped back, though the excitement in her expression hadn't faded.
Mildred's gaze shifted toward Charlotte.
Measured. Careful. Evaluating.
"…You have proven your point," she continued. "Beyond what was expected."
Charlotte tilted her head slightly.
"Did I?" she replied. "I thought we were just getting started."
A ripple of unease passed through the crowd.
That line, that casual line, made it worse.
Persephone, who had remained silent until now, finally stepped forward from her position.
Her presence was different from before.
Still. Controlled. But there was something beneath it now. Not doubt. Not hesitation. But… confirmation.
"…You've made your declaration clear," she said.
Her voice carried—not loudly, but with weight.
Charlotte looked at her. Smiling.
"As promised."
Persephone closed her eyes briefly. Then opened them.
"…Then I will honor mine."
From the D'Arcel section, Lucien exhaled slowly, leaning back as if something heavy had finally settled.
"…This is bad," Marielle muttered beside him.
Lucien smirked slightly.
"…No," he replied. "This is interesting."
His gaze drifted toward Theodore.
And for the first time—
He wasn't looking at him with doubt. But expectation.
Back in the arena, Edith rolled her neck once more before stepping away fully.
"Next time," she said, pointing at Charlotte, "don't stop it halfway."
Charlotte blinked. "…You wanted more?"
Edith grinned.
"I always want more."
She turned, walking back toward her side without waiting for a response.
Her disciple, Valeria, followed silently—though her grip on her weapon had tightened. Not in frustration. But in resolve.
The arena slowly began to stabilize as witches fixed the destruction around it.
But the people—
did not.
Clusters formed instantly. Discussions sparked. Arguments ignited. The Senate members began speaking among themselves in hushed but urgent tones. The Welsch gathered closer, she added. "But yeah, I could eat."
For a moment—
No one spoke.
Then—
Aurora sighed.
"…You just challenged the entire Witching Hour."
"Mm."
"And you're thinking about food."
"Mm."
Aurora covered her face.
"…Unbelievable."
Above them, the Lunarium remained suspended in the sky, glowing faintly against the artificial ceiling of Nocturne.
It hovered above, as the three flew back towards it, the entire Lunarium disappeared and returned inside its Dimension Bubble.
Persephone just stared as they flew.
"They left without setting up their place," she says with her usual nonchalance.
Mistress Mildred could do nothing but laugh.
"She was hungry. Let them go and we'll wait for her to share her knowledge publicly," she replies back.
And below—
The Witching Hour began to move.
Not in unity. Not in agreem their expressions unreadable but tense. The D'Arcels remained seated, watching everything unfold like spectators to a game that had suddenly changed its rules. Everyone, witches and supernaturals, were having their discussions.
Charlotte, however—
did none of that. She simply turned.
"…I'm hungry," she said casually.
Aurora blinked.
"…What?"
Theodore stared.
"…Now?"
Charlotte stretched her arms lightly.
"That was kinda fun,"ent. But in reaction.
Because whether they accepted it or not—
The Heretical Witch had not only arrived, she had declared herself.
And worse—
She had been acknowledged.