Zone 8
As Kael and Finn arrived at Zone 8, Kael's gaze sharpened at the sight of familiar figures.
"Ethan's here," Finn noted.
Indeed, Ethan sat among the spectators, alongside the Golden Lion and Dylan—though the three kept their distance, all eyes fixed on the arena.
Inside, Amelia's match was about to begin.
"They're all here to watch her," Kael muttered, frowning. Amelia had always been a legend in the Warrior Academy, her talent and strength undisputed. Her absence from last year's tournament had spared many contenders; some even claimed she'd have easily clinched top three had she competed.
It was no surprise Ethan and the others were riveted.
Kael rubbed his nose, reluctantly admitting his fame paled next to Amelia's. After all, he'd joined Yanhua Academy mere months ago, kept a low profile, and only gained recognition through recent tournament bouts.
Wait—why was Amelia, equally reserved, so renowned?
Simple: her stunning beauty made her impossible to ignore. At the Martial Magic Tournament, where female competitors were rare, a warrior of her skill and looks drew crowds like moths to flame. Kael and Finn were swallowed by the jostling crowd, a testament to her allure.
When Amelia stepped into the arena, wolf-whistles erupted—only to die under her icy glare.
Her opponent, a passably handsome blond man, approached with faux chivalry. "Lady Amelia," he bowed, "I've long admired you. Might I have the honor of treating you to a drink at the Flame Rose Tavern after our match?"
The crowd booed his brazen flirtation.
Amelia merely shook her head, silent.
Undeterred, the man pressed on: "Don't dismiss me yet! I hail from the Adams martial lineage, a hereditary count's sole heir…" He rambled about status and privilege, oblivious to her disinterest.
"No."
Amelia cut off the blond man, her brows furrowing slightly. Her combat aura surged like a tidal wave—its purity and intensity even drawing a reaction from Ethan and the others in the stands.
The aura rippled outward, devoid of oppressive force yet radiating a restrained power that silenced the crowd.
Level 7 Combat Aura.
Amelia had become a Level 7 Knight.
Another Level 7 powerhouse! The revelation stunned the arena into momentary silence before erupting into frenzy at the commentator's booming announcement.
In past tournaments, a single Level 7 contender was rare. During Ethan's dominant reign, he'd never even needed Level 7 strength to secure victory. Yet this year, two had emerged: Dylan and now Amelia.
"Hmph. At least I didn't waste my time coming," the Golden Lion muttered darkly. Amelia's breakthrough to Level 7 eclipsed his own peak-Level 6 prowess. With Dylan and Amelia ahead and Ethan's depths still unfathomed, the competition had never been fiercer.
In a blur of motion, Amelia vanished. The blond man's eyes widened—her speed defied tracking.
Her form flickered, weightless, materializing before him. He glimpsed her breathtaking face: delicate lashes framing eyes of frost-edged elegance. Then—a whip-fast kick.
"So… beautiful…" he sighed dopily—an instant before her boot sent him hurtling offstage. He skidded 10 meters, crumpling with a howl. Blood spilled from his lips as gravel scraped his face raw, his once-handsome features now scarred.
"What an idiot," the crowd jeered, schadenfreude thick in the air. Few pitied the delusional show-off.
Amelia descended the stage amid awed whispers, her gaze locking onto Kael and Finn in the crowd. She strode toward them.
Finn, ever the tactful wingman, shot Kael a knowing look and excused himself—leaving Kael alone.
Kael walked beside Amelia, ignoring the whispers around them—Isn't that Kael from the Magic Academy? Why is he with Amelia?—shrugging them off with practiced ease.
Honestly, the guy was growing shamelessly thick-skinned.
"You broke through to Level 7? It wasn't there yesterday," Kael remarked, puzzled. During their stroll the previous evening, he'd sensed no breakthrough.
"It came suddenly last night—an epiphany," Amelia replied, her eyes glinting. "You defeated Korgoth? Looks like I've struck gold."
Kael remembered: she'd bet 100,000 gold coins on him at 3-to-1 odds. Her winnings now totaled 300,000—a 200,000 profit.
"My victory earned you 200,000. Do I get a cut?" he teased.
"You're impossible…" Amelia shot him a mock glare, her feigned annoyance oddly charming.
At the betting station, under the jealous stares of veteran gamblers, they collected a crystal card holding 300,000 gold. Toms, the bookie, watched them with a pained expression—Amelia's windfall had gutted his margins. Only profits from other matches kept him from despair.
He all but shoved them out, relief flooding his face once they left. Some customers were better gone.
"I wanted to bet on you again," Amelia laughed. "Shame Toms kicked us out."
"Confident, aren't you? But my odds against Cruy are only 1.2-to-1. Even if I win, the payout's meager." Kael's rising reputation had squashed any chance of lucrative odds.
"Amelia," he turned serious, "spar with me at the training grounds. I need to gauge Level 7 strength."
"Gladly." She nodded.
Training Grounds
Kael relentlessly sparred with Amelia. Unleashing her full Level 7 prowess, Amelia was formidable—yet Kael held his own. His mastery of incantations and layered spellcasting made him a frustrating opponent. Though her strength overpowered him, his mutated iceflame magic allowed him to endure far longer than expected.
Of course, Amelia's recent breakthrough meant she hadn't fully harnessed Level 7's potential.
Kael's mental focus sharpened to a razor's edge. Holding nothing back, he attacked freely—Amelia's superior rank meant no need for restraint.
Under this pressure, sweat drenched Kael's robes, yet he refused to yield. Amelia's advancement had lit a fire in him; he pushed harder than ever.
He lost count of spells cast. Even his vast mana reserves neared depletion. Amelia, too, breathed heavily, her brow glistening, the spar taking its toll.
Ting.
A faint chime echoed in his mind. A minor barrier shattered within him—his mana surged, denser and richer.
Peak of Level 6.
Kael had edged closer to Level 7, brushing against its threshold.
"Finally," he exhaled, exhilarated. For months, he'd prioritized spellcraft and elemental fusion over raw cultivation. Today's breakthrough—small but vital—sharpened his edge for the tournament.