The Exhibition Arena was a massive, open-air colosseum designed to withstand the explosive collateral damage of high-tier magic. Thick, translucent mana-shields hummed over the stands, protecting the thousands of cadets and the VIP boxes above.
The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.
Elias stood in the center of the white sand arena. He hadn't bothered to change into combat gear; he was still wearing his standard Academy uniform, his hands resting casually in his pockets.
Across from him stood the Vanguard Captain of the Vance Family's elite forces. The man's name was Thorne. He was a Level 45 A-Rank Berserker, a mountain of scarred muscle encased in heavy, rune-etched platinum armor. In his hands, he held a massive, double-edged greatsword that crackled with volatile red lightning.
Up in the VIP box, Arthur Vance leaned against the reinforced glass, his eyes narrowed like a hawk watching a mouse. Beside him, Instructor Graves was sweating profusely.
"Captain Thorne has cleared over thirty B-Rank Gates," Graves whispered nervously. "Against a cadet, even a talented one... this could be a slaughter. Should we have the medical mages on standby?"
"If the boy dies, he was weak," Arthur Vance said coldly. "The Vanguard Captain has orders not to hold back."
Down in the arena, Thorne rested his heavy greatsword on his shoulder and sneered at Elias.
"I heard you play tricks with shadows, kid," Thorne's voice boomed across the sands. "Summon whatever pet you have. I'm going to shatter it, and then I'm going to break both of your legs so you remember your place."
Elias looked at the towering A-Rank veteran. His expression was completely blank.
"I don't need my shadows for this," Elias said, his voice carrying perfectly across the silent arena.
The crowd gasped. An A-Rank Fire Mage like Leo Valerius scoffed loudly from the stands. Even Aria Sterling, watching intently from the front row, tightened her grip on the railing. Fighting a Level 45 Berserker in close combat without summons was pure suicide for a Necromancer.
"Arrogant brat!" Thorne roared.
The A-Rank veteran exploded forward. The ground shattered beneath his boots, launching him into the air like a human cannonball. He brought his greatsword down with devastating force, the red lightning flaring so brightly it blinded the cameras tracking the fight.
"Thunder Cleave!"
The attack was meant to completely obliterate Elias's defensive summons. But Elias hadn't summoned anything.
Instead, as the massive blade descended, Elias simply pulled his right hand out of his pocket.
He didn't dodge. He didn't use Spatial Step. He channeled a fraction of his Epic-tier mana pool into his arm, reinforcing his physical stats until his skin faintly glowed with a dark, abyssal blue aura.
Elias raised his bare hand and caught the blade.
CLANG!
A massive shockwave of red lightning and displaced air blasted across the arena, kicking up a storm of white sand. The mana-shields over the audience flickered violently from the sheer kinetic impact.
But when the dust cleared, the entire colosseum went dead silent.
Thorne was suspended in mid-air, his massive greatsword completely halted. Elias was holding the razor-sharp edge of the blade between his thumb and index finger. His feet hadn't even shifted an inch in the sand.
"Impossible," Arthur Vance whispered in the VIP box, the glass beginning to crack under his suddenly flaring aura.
"A Summoner caught an A-Rank strike with his bare hands?!" Instructor Graves choked, his eyes bulging out of his skull.
Down in the arena, Thorne's arrogant sneer vanished, replaced by sheer, primal terror. He pushed down on the hilt with all his crushing strength, but the sword wouldn't budge. It felt like his blade was wedged into a solid mountain of indestructible steel.
"You're a Vanguard Captain?" Elias asked softly, looking up at Thorne with eyes that held the terrifying, cold weight of the Abyss. "Your stance is sloppy. Your mana control is leaking. You swing with anger, not intent."
Elias squeezed his fingers.
CRACK.
The rune-etched, high-grade A-Rank greatsword shattered into a dozen pieces like cheap glass.
Before Thorne could even register the loss of his weapon, Elias moved. With the flawless, deadly footwork of an S-Rank veteran, Elias stepped into Thorne's guard. He drove a simple, mana-reinforced palm strike directly into the center of Thorne's platinum breastplate.
The impact sounded like a cannon firing.
The heavy platinum armor caved inward, instantly shattering all the protective runes. Thorne's massive body was launched backward like a broken doll. He flew across the arena, skipping across the sand three times before crashing violently into the reinforced perimeter wall.
The wall cratered inward. Thorne slumped to the ground, unconscious and bleeding, his armor completely destroyed.
The fight had lasted exactly four seconds.
[You have defeated an A-Rank Hunter.] [Calculating experience...] [Level disparity is immense. Title 'Defiler of the Sacred' applies intimidation debuff.]
The silence in the arena was absolute. Nobody cheered. Nobody spoke. The sheer absurdity of what they had just witnessed completely broke their understanding of the world. A B-Rank cadet hadn't just defeated an A-Rank veteran; he had physically humiliated him without using a single spell or summon.
Elias casually dusted off his hands and shoved them back into his pockets. He turned away from the unconscious Captain and looked up.
He didn't look at the cheering cameras. He didn't look at Instructor Graves. He looked directly into the VIP box, locking eyes with Arthur Vance.
Elias didn't speak, but his lips moved in a slow, deliberate whisper that Arthur's enhanced S-Rank senses picked up perfectly.
Your son was just as weak.
Up in the VIP box, Arthur Vance froze. The blood drained from his face as the realization hit him like a freight train. The missing body. The impossible confidence. The dead eyes of a killer.
BOOM!
The reinforced glass of the VIP box violently exploded outward.
Unable to contain his sheer, murderous rage, Arthur Vance—the S-Rank Guild Master of Aegis—leaped from the balcony, plummeting directly into the arena like a falling meteor.
He landed heavily, shaking the entire stadium, his eyes burning with absolute, unfiltered killing intent directed solely at the young Necromancer standing before him.
"Who the hell are you?!" Arthur roared, his S-Rank aura erupting into a suffocating, blood-red storm.
Elias smiled. A genuine, terrifying smile.
The trap was sprung.