[Tournament Announcement – Echoed Across the Battlefield]
"Attention, all participants. Phase Two begins now."
"This stage will feature an unlimited number of fierce beasts."
"Your objective—survive for 30 minutes."
A wave of dread swept through the remaining contestants. Of the five hundred who had entered, only four hundred and fifty now stood. The rest had already been eliminated in the brutal trials of Phase One.
But this… this was something else entirely.
Tension crackled in the air like static before a storm. Many wore grim expressions, gripping their weapons tighter, eyes scanning the distant treeline where the unknown waited.
Sergey clenched his fists, his voice sharp with urgency.
"We have to survive this—no matter what!" he shouted to his teammates, steeling their resolve.
And then—
10… 9… 8…
A massive digital countdown lit the sky, each number booming like thunder.
7… 6… 5…
Hearts pounded. Mana surged. The scent of steel and fear filled the air.
4… 3… 2… 1…
With a piercing blast of the arena siren, Phase Two began.
...................
Arthur stood at the top of the ruined stone castle, Ashbreaker resting in his hands. His black hair, streaked with a faint crimson glow, caught the early light, and the blade in his grasp seemed perfectly forged for him—an extension of his presence, his power.
His cold golden eyes were fixed on the countdown.
5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
A deafening siren echoed across the fortress.
Mana surged around him as he channeled it through his body. His voice rang out like a command from the heavens.
"Everyone, be ready! Don't break formation!"
A chorus of voices responded—"Yes!"—but the expressions told another story. Grim. Focused. This wasn't bravery. It was survival.
Everyone except Julien wore the tension on their faces. Jace, in particular, clenched his fists anxiously. With only 20% mana left, he had no idea how he was going to hold the line.
Leona noticed. Her gaze cut toward him as she spoke firmly, "Jace, do not leave the Kingdom Core. Only strike if anyone gets past us. Understood?"
Jace replied with a low, reluctant, "Okay," though the doubt in his tone was clear.
Julien's voice broke through next, sharp and commanding.
"Sera, Drake—cover the rear! Rodin, Bryce—front line defense! Leona and I will take the offensive pressure."
Then he turned his head slightly, smirking faintly. "And Arthur… try not to die, yeah?"
Arthur, who had been listening in silence, didn't respond. His eyes never left the horizon.
Tess stepped up beside him, hands glowing faintly as she readied her healing magic. Her face was calm, but her eyes stayed locked on Arthur's form, prepared for what was to come.
Suddenly, a disturbance rippled through the mountain-side forest. The trees shuddered as something emerged—twisted, undead creatures with pallid gray skin stretched tight over their bones. Their eyes glowed with a sickly necrotic light, and jagged, bloodstained claws scraped against the earth. They moved with unnatural speed, reeking of rot and decay, driven by an insatiable hunger for flesh and mana.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Shit… they're ghouls. Not that strong individually, but there's too many of them. Their strength ranges from First to Sixth mana Circuit."
Everyone tensed immediately, the weight of the situation sinking in.
Arthur moved first.
Ashbreaker surged with crackling lightning as he channeled mana into the blade. In one fluid motion, he dashed forward—his footwork precise, calculated—then leapt high into the air, rising above the advancing wave of ghouls.
With both hands gripping the hilt, he brought the sword down in a devastating vertical slash.
A flash of blinding lightning burst from the blade, streaking down like a divine judgment.
The ground exploded beneath the impact—ghouls were torn apart in an instant, their shrieks drowned out by the thunderous crack.
But more emerged from the forest, undeterred. Claws scraping. Eyes glowing.
Arthur exhaled slowly—and then, he channeled his mana.
Golden light surged around Ashbreaker as sword aura enveloped the blade. The crimson steel shimmered, shifting in hue until it blazed with radiant gold, pulsing like a heartbeat in his hands.
Then he moved.
A blur.
A storm.
He dashed into the heart of the advancing horde, and his blade began to dance.
Not with rage—but with precision. Grace. Every movement was a masterstroke, a deadly rhythm only a true swordmaster could follow. His sword sliced through the air in arcs of gold—upward, downward, left, right, spinning behind his back and sweeping forward again.
Every ghoul that came at him was cut down before it could even blink.
He didn't let a single one pass.
Front. Back. Side. Above.
He was a wall of light and steel, untouchable and unyielding.
In that moment, Arthur wasn't just fighting.
He was carving silence into chaos.
And the ghouls fell—one after another—into the golden tempest.
Stronger wave of ghouls surged toward Arthur with feral speed and gnashing jaws.
Without hesitation, he leapt back, his body flowing with practiced precision. Mana flared through his veins as he swung Ashbreaker in a graceful arc—Sword leaf.
A burst of radiant light bloomed from his blade, slicing through the advancing ghouls. Golden streaks danced across the air, and in the next instant, blood spurted like crimson rain from their torn bodies.
But they kept coming.
One leaped at him, jaws wide—Arthur twisted mid-air, spinning like a storm. His heel slammed into the ghoul's skull, sending it crashing into the wall with a sickening thud. Before his feet touched the ground, his blade was already moving.
Each strike was effortless. Precise.
He carved through the next wave with the elegance of Master swift, clean, and deadly.
The golden edge of Ashbreaker flashed like lightning, and not a single ghoul made it past him.
Suddenly, a new group of ghouls emerged—larger, faster, more twisted than the rest. Their eyes gleamed with a sinister red glow, and all of them were at the 6th Mana Circuit.
They screeched in unison, a sound so shrill and vile it cut through the battlefield like a blade. Arthur narrowed his eyes, standing firm, unfazed at first. But five seconds later—his body stiffened.
He'd been cursed.
A wave of dark energy crawled up his limbs, slowing his reflexes, clouding his vision.
"Tch—curse magic," he muttered under his breath.
From behind, Tess reacted instantly. Her hands glowed with a soft, pale-blue radiance as she whispered a chant under her breath.
"Sanctum Cleansing."
A burst of holy light enveloped Arthur, burning away the curse in a blink. But that short delay was all the ghouls needed.
They slipped past him—six of them—slamming their claws and rotting limbs against the castle gate with wild abandon. The defensive barrier flickered with each blow.
But Arthur didn't flinch.
He didn't turn to chase.
He trusted his team.
Instead, he leapt into the air, mana flaring around him like golden fire. Ashbreaker gleamed with raw energy as he activated one of his newly mastered techniques -c Rank skill.
"Lightfall Blades."
Twenty swords of golden light formed in the air around him, each hovering like a soldier awaiting command. With a single sweep of his arm, he sent them flying—streaking through the sky like divine judgment.
Each blade found its mark, piercing cleanly through the hearts of the ghouls at the gate.
One.
Two.
Five.
All twenty struck true.
The ghouls let out choked screeches before collapsing, unmoving.
Killed in one fell sweep.
Arthur landed lightly, golden motes still dancing around him.
Meanwhile, the ghouls that had slipped past Arthur's defense lunged toward the group guarding the tower. Tess, standing atop the battlement, immediately began casting her holy magic.
"Sanctified Light!"
Radiant energy surged downward in beams of brilliance, burning into the undead horde. Several ghouls shrieked in pain as their rotting skin sizzled beneath the divine light. Some caught fire, thrashing violently, while others hissed and threw curses at her in retaliation.
Tess raised a shimmering barrier just in time.
"Holy Aegis!"
Dark magic splashed harmlessly against her shield of light. But before she could catch her breath, a wraith-like ghoul—partially transparent, its claws crackling with dark energy—phased through the wall and struck her shoulder, breaking her concentration.
"Guh!" Tess grunted in pain, stumbling.
She kicked the creature away and leapt back, but another ghoul lunged from behind. She spun and cast a quick ward just before its claws met her skin.
Clang! The shield flared, taking the brunt of the impact.
But the undead were relentless. More surged toward her, slamming into the barrier from all sides, biting and clawing, piling on top of each other like rabid animals. Her mana strained. The holy shield cracked.
Snap!
The barrier shattered.
Tess screamed as claws tore through her robes. With a desperate cry, she summoned a holy spear and thrust it into the closest ghoul, impaling it through the chest. Another fell. Then another.
But there were too many.
One particularly large ghoul raised its jagged claws, ready to end her.
And then—he arrived.
A golden blur cut through the battlefield. Arthur.
He dashed in with blinding speed, Ashbreaker glowing like a comet in his grip. His movements flowed like a dance—elegant, deadly. Every slash painted streaks of golden mana in the air. Every step brought death.
Up.
Down.
Left.
Right.
Front.
Back.
He moved like a storm, cutting through the ghouls as effortlessly as a master chef slicing vegetables.
Curses struck him again—black veins crawling up his arms—but this time, he didn't falter. Instead, he calmly sliced open his own palm, letting blood drip onto the cursed marks.
"Taught myself this trick," he muttered. "Blood breaks the bind."
It worked. The curse snapped off like brittle chains.
Tess stared at him, wide-eyed and frozen.
She had seen swordsmanship before—but this… this was something else. Arthur's golden mana danced around him like flames of divine judgment. His expression was cold, focused—every motion a blend of precision and power.
And for a moment, Tess forgot where she was.
Forgot the battle.
Forgot the danger.
All she saw was him.
Sharp eyes. Golden light. A warrior moving like art.
Then—
"What are you doing? Help me!" Arthur snapped, glaring back at her between slashes.
Tess blinked, startled out of her daze. A faint blush crept across her cheeks.
"A-ah, right!"
She quickly cast a Holy Spear—but her aim, still shaken, was a little off. It hurtled straight toward Arthur.
He blocked it effortlessly, catching it with the flat of his blade.
He glanced at her with a faint scowl. "Hey, Tess… I'm not the ghoul."
Tess looked mortified. "S-sorry!"
Arthur sighed, turning back toward the next wave of undead already rushing in.
"No time for apologies. Just cover me."
And together, they fought.
Blade and brilliance, flame and light—Tess and Arthur moved like twin storms, cutting down every ghoul that crossed their path. But for every creature slain, three more slipped through the cracks.
Even with Arthur and Tess working in tandem, the tide was too great.
A surge of ghouls broke through the outer line, writhing toward the castle's inner gate.
Julien's sharp voice cut through the chaos. "They're breaching the hall! Drake! Sera!"
From the upper ramparts, silver-tipped arrows rained down.
Sera's bow shimmered with radiant mana, each arrow she loosed spawning duplicates mid-air—an ability she called Phantom Quiver. The phantom arrows split, multiplying in flight, their edges glowing with silver mana.
Half a dozen ghouls screeched as the arrows struck—one buried in a heart, another severing a spine, a third pinning a clawed leg to the stone. Still, not enough.
Drake raised both arms and growled, "Multi-Fire Bullet!"
A storm of blazing fire projectiles erupted from his palms, zipping toward the rushing horde. Some missed. Others struck flesh—bursting against limbs, skulls, and torsos. A few ghouls were blown apart mid-lunge. Others burned where they stood.
But still, more came.
Julien clenched his jaw, analyzing the chaos. His voice was cold and fast. "This won't do."
He spun around. "Ron! Cast illusions—disrupt their senses!"
Ron's fingers danced across his rune script, purple magic coiling like mist around the battlefield. The image of phantom walls and illusory traps appeared, diverting several ghouls off-course.
"Leona, keep the pressure on!"
Light burst from her palms as Leona struck with precision, and with Ron's illusions concealing her presence, she moved like lightning—appearing behind enemies and slashing them apart before they even turned.
Julien's eyes snapped to the left flank. "Nikolai! With me! The rest of you—surround the inner sanctum. Protect the Core at all costs!"
Julien inhaled, steadying his breath. Then his mana flared, specks of wind and glowing azure light forming around his body.
"Draconic Pulse: Tempest Coil!"
Mana spiraled upward as a spectral air dragon coiled around Julien's spear, the wind howling with its cry. He spun on his heel, the spear whistling through the air—then hurled it forward with all his strength.
The spear shot like a meteor, ripping through a line of ghouls, the spectral dragon exploding upon impact. Wind detonated outward, toppling the ruined wall behind them in a thunderous blast.
From the other side of the breach, Rodin emerged, his body glowing with molten crimson mana. He stomped the ground—Warth Magic: Pyro Shield. Lava-like runes flared beneath his feet, and a dome of blistering energy formed around him.
Beside him, Bryce appeared, weapons drenched in blood. With surgical precision, he cleaved down the remaining ghouls flanking Rodin, holding the line.
High above, Drake and Sera climbed onto the balcony ledge, eyes blazing with resolve. Drake roared as flames gathered beneath his boots.
"Let's finish this!"
Together, they leapt into the air—Sera firing a trio of Phantom Quiverarrows mid-flight, while Drake detonated a wave of flame beneath him, propelling his body downward in a comet-like dive.
Their combined magic erupted across the ghoul swarm, sending shattered corpses and scorched limbs flying in every direction.
But it wasn't over.
it was just a beginning.