Blood now poured from Booza's chest and mouth. His breathing quickened, his vision blurred, his body weakened—but his heart refused to give up.
All of this, for one reason: Booza had awakened to his new power. Before Liam's attack landed, a fly buzzed around him, disturbing him by flying near his ear. At the time, Booza's hands couldn't move to shoo it away. So he imagined slapping it hard. And surprisingly, the fly fell to the ground, twitching.
Booza's new power was the ability to harm through imagination. The pain it caused was real, even though it was merely an illusion.
And Liam—he looked pleased, believing he had defeated Booza.
"I won! I've avenged you, Agril. Rest easy in the afterlife!"
The noble students erupted in cheers, fully satisfied with the outcome. To them, Liam was unbeatable—his victory unquestioned. It was a flawless triumph in their eyes, confirming their belief in his superiority and strength. There was no doubt he had won—until the unexpected happened.
But it was different for the students from the outskirts—they lowered their heads in despair. Even Elsie, the judge of the match, bowed her head and shut her eyes.
Then, Booza rose. Using his black axe for support, he struggled to stand. It wasn't easy, but he tried his best—he didn't want to be seen as the loser. For him, the fight wasn't over yet!
"You think I've lost?" he said.
His words shattered the cheers from the noble students. All eyes turned to Booza, shocked that he was still alive and ready to fight.
"What can you do with a body like that? Fine, I'll slice off your head!"
Liam charged again, fast and furious, sword aimed directly at Booza. But he was too eager, careless—forgetting Booza's power.
Suddenly, Liam stopped mid-step, clutching his stomach in pain. Booza had seized control of his imagination.
Booza created an illusion in Liam's mind: a punch to the stomach, then a swing from the black axe severing his arm. Screams of pain echoed through the arena, confusing everyone.
"Hey Liam! What's wrong?!"
But Booza's illusion only lasted three seconds. After that, Liam regained his senses—still gasping, drenched in sweat.
"What was that? My hands… they're still here. And my stomach… doesn't hurt anymore."
Booza slowly stepped forward. His gaze was tired, but terrifying. After using his illusion for three seconds, he would be powerless for the next three. Liam realized he had been caught in Booza's trap. He needed to escape—get out of range—immediately. But it was already too late.
The three seconds were up. Booza's power returned, and he launched another illusion attack. Liam once again felt unbearable pain, screaming like a man on the brink of death.
In the illusion, Booza severed Liam's arms and legs. Then, he beheaded him, blood spurting like a fountain. Dead.
In the real world, Booza stood in front of Liam, who had collapsed in agony. Now, it was time to make the illusion reality. A slash from his black axe flew—cutting through Liam's neck. The knight, the brother of Yonvi Virosta, was dead.
All eyes were on Booza. Silence fell, disbelief hanging heavy in the air. But a moment later, cheers erupted from Booza's friends. They were ecstatic at his victory.
Even Queen Caterine II, watching from the palace balcony, clapped her hands. Soon, everyone followed suit—everyone but Yonvi Virosta. Her eyes reddened with grief and fury.
Booza had won and earned the promotion he was promised. But now his body was in agony. A second later, he vomited blood and lost consciousness. Not dead—but barely alive.
The rest of the matches continued, just as intensely. But for the students from the outskirts, little could be done. They were slaughtered—only Booza remained. Still, this was already an achievement for Elsie, assigned to train the outskirt kids.
---
Even in pain, Booza's mind drifted. He was now inside an illusion, as if in another dimension—a forest beneath a sky of gray and black. No stars, only a pale, fading moon.
Booza kept walking, deeper into the mysterious woods. The trees were towering and thick. There were no signs of life—no animals, no insects. Just Booza, lost and confused.
"Where am I?"
All he saw were trees. Silence. The kind that made the fine hairs on his back rise. Fear crept slowly into his heart and mind.
"Is this the afterlife?"
Suddenly, he woke up.
Booza's eyes shot open, sweat dripping from his forehead, breath rapid. Fear lingered in his heart and mind.
"Nightmare?" asked a woman's voice. Booza blinked. He was in his room. Sitting on the windowsill—Elsie.
He tried moving, but pain surged through his body.
"You were just treated. Don't move too much. Your body hasn't fully healed."
Booza glanced around the room. No one else was there—just him and Elsie.
"Where's everyone else?"
Elsie turned away, gazing at the starry night sky. "They're all dead."
The news crushed him. He felt like a failure, unable to protect them. Tears rolled down his cheeks. His heart ached with sorrow.
"Will there be another massacre after this?" he whispered. His short question struck Elsie deeply. The beautiful knight knew—there was no justice for someone from the outskirts like Booza.
"There won't be. You're free now. Everyone will treat you like a noble."
"Then what's the point of honor, if I live on the corpses of my friends?"
Elsie strolled toward Booza and sat on the bed across from him.
"You'll understand the meaning of honor after your wounds heal."
Booza didn't understand. "What do you mean?"
"Death isn't always a curse."
"In this world, everything is measured by power. Outside this kingdom, it's even crueler. You'll see when you leave here."
"After this, I'll take you on a mission. Prepare yourself—it'll be harder than all the massacres you've survived."
Elsie lay down on the small bed, trying to sleep. Night had fallen.
"Elsie! Thank you for the training. My power has evolved!"
"I know. I'm sure your power is more terrifying than just reading minds."