'This is a bit toxic, no matter how I look at it,' I thought, stepping through the forest and dodging yet another low-hanging branch. The mid-terms were meant to test our skills and adaptability, sure, but the rules leaned suspiciously in favor of certain individuals.
Case in point: Lucifer and his ridiculous 10,000 starting points. I understood the logic—make him a giant glowing target so the rest of us could have a go at him. But it also gave him a head start the size of a small moon. He could lose a dozen fights and still end up leading the scoreboard. Then again, as the sole White-ranker among the first years, he was in a league of his own. No amount of petty grumbling could change that.
'Luna,' I mentally called out, 'find me prey.'
'Alright,' came her smooth, indifferent reply. Even sealed, her senses as a qilin far outstripped mine. It was one of her few perks that didn't come with a side of sarcasm.
After a moment, she spoke again. 'Behind you, some distance away. Two girls clashing. Want to intervene?'
I didn't even need to ask who. 'Pass,' I replied. If Rachel and Cecilia were at it, the last thing I wanted was to get caught in the crossfire of their mutual animosity. Whatever that feud was about, I wasn't interested in finding out. At least, not up close.
Suddenly, a sharp presence brushed against my senses, and I caught sight of a mana arrow hurtling toward my face. I snatched it out of the air, crushing the glowing projectile in my hand as its residual energy fizzled out.
'Not bad,' I thought, impressed by how well the spell had been cloaked. My senses hadn't picked up on it until the last moment.
'Why didn't you warn me?' I asked Luna, who, of course, had probably sensed it well before I did.
'Didn't feel like it,' she replied lazily, as though shrugging in my mind.
I sighed. Having a qilin spirit was meant to be an advantage, not an ongoing test of my patience.
"You survived that. Troublesome," came a voice, light and unbothered. My eyes shifted to see a girl lounging atop a blanket spread out beneath a tree, as though this was some kind of picnic and not a battle royale.
If Rachel, Cecilia, and Seraphina were the undisputed Heroines of this world—towering figures whose potential practically bent the rules of reality—then Clara Lopez was something else entirely. A Sub-Heroine, if you wanted to get technical. Not quite at their level of narrative importance, but close enough to make you tread carefully.
Rank 10. The lazy genius.
Clara wasn't in Class A, not because she lacked the skill, but because of "special circumstances." Circumstances like the fact that her mother, Radiant-ranker Eva Lopez, was also the Headmaster of Mythos Academy. And if that wasn't enough, Clara was the prized disciple of Archmage Charlotte Alaric, the most powerful multi-element Mind aspect spellcaster in the world. Which made me wonder why someone like her had just shot at me.
'I'm more surprised she bothered attacking,' I thought, studying her. She looked as she always did: relaxed to the point of absurdity, with an air of practiced indifference that said she could win this fight if she cared enough to try. Her mana rank had been the reason she wasn't placed in Class A initially, but she'd fixed that in just four months by reaching mid Silver-rank from light Yellow-rank. Typical. Even her lazy approach to cultivation seemed to work better than most people's discipline.
Her multi-element casting was impressive, though, and the arrow—despite being a simple two-circle spell—had been meticulously executed. That, combined with her subtle control of mana, made her far more dangerous than her rank suggested.
"Didn't expect you to be so jumpy," Clara continued, yawning slightly as she propped herself up on one elbow. "Makes me think this might actually be fun."
Her tone was casual, almost bored, but her eyes glimmered with a quiet sharpness that said she was calculating something. What that something was, I wasn't entirely sure. But one thing was clear: whatever fight she was looking for, I was probably in it now.
'She brought a blanket,' I thought, dodging another arrow of lightning with a mix of disbelief and mild irritation. 'How is that not blatant favoritism? Did they give her a picnic basket too?'
Clara, still lounging like this was some casual weekend outing, flicked her fingers, and a new spell materialized instantly. Four circles spun into existence, crackling with energy.
Thunder Shock.
The spell roared to life, electricity arcing toward me in a jagged, violent surge. It was efficient, precise, and casually devastating. I felt the hum of its power in my bones.
'I want to test myself as a spellcaster against her,' I thought, the thrill of challenge rising despite myself.
With a sharp gesture, fire particles gathered around my hand, the air growing hot and heavy. They swirled and condensed, forming the shape of a spear burning so brightly it left afterimages in its wake.
Flame Lance.
BOOM!
The two spells collided mid-air, lightning and fire crashing together in a spectacular explosion that rattled the ground beneath us. Smoke and sparks filled the air, and the heat of the clash made the surrounding grass curl and blacken.
Not waiting for the dust to settle, I propelled myself upward with a simple three-circle spell, wind mana surging to my feet and lifting me off the ground. I glided through the air toward Clara, closing the gap between us.
"Ho," Clara said, her voice tinged with genuine interest as she straightened slightly. "You aren't bad."
For her, that was probably the equivalent of a standing ovation.
As if to underline her approval, a shimmering robe appeared around her, woven from mana and shifting in colors—yellow, green, red, blue, cyan, and purple. Each hue represented one of her elemental affinities, and they danced across the fabric like living flames.
Her elemental versatility wasn't just impressive; it was absurd. She shared the same breadth of affinities as Lucifer, which alone would have made her exceptional. But, of course, Clara wasn't just any spellcaster. She had a Gift.
Sorcerer's Right.
Gifts were humanity's trump cards—powers that defied logic and rewrote the rules of magic, physics, and occasionally good manners. Some elements, like light and dark, were naturally opposing forces, and while humans had evolved to wield such contrasts, combining them was another matter entirely. It was like trying to juggle fire and ice without one extinguishing or melting the other.
Normally, spellcasters had to navigate a treacherous maze of theory and mana control to balance opposing elements. Clara, however, bypassed all of that with her Gift. Sorcerer's Right allowed her to seamlessly blend and wield contrasting elements through her Mind aspect, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
It was, in many ways, a counterpart to Lucifer's Yin-Yang Body, which achieved the same effect through the Body aspect. Where Lucifer could merge elements like an artist blending paints on a canvas, Clara did it with the precision of a composer conducting a symphony.
The battlefield around us reflected her skill. The air buzzed with electricity, swirled with wind, and shimmered with traces of water vapor and flame. It was like standing in the eye of a technicolor storm.
Meanwhile, my fire burned fiercely in defiance of her overwhelming elemental mastery. The clash wasn't just about spells anymore. It was about who could impose their will on the battlefield.
Clara smiled faintly, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp. "So, Arthur Nightingale," she said, her voice calm but tinged with the thrill of a predator sensing a worthy opponent. "Let's see how far you can go."
Challenge accepted.