Swordflower University, Combat Hall.
As Sonia pointed her sword at Leoni, one thought dominated the minds of everyone watching:
What is she doing?
Felix, Celia, Ingrid, and others shared the same bewildered sentiment:
What is Sonia doing?
Even Sonia herself couldn't help but wonder:
What am I doing?
Leoni, however, after a momentary pause, burst into laughter. She clutched her stomach and tried to stifle her chuckles, but the effort was clearly in vain. Her laughter spilled out, high and bright, like a bubbling stream.
After what felt like an eternity, Leoni took a deep breath, her face still lit with the remnants of mirth, and asked in as serious a tone as she could manage:
"Sonia, are you serious? You're challenging me, Leoni Vickt?"
No! I'm not serious! The Observer made me do it!
Internally, Sonia was raging, Observer, you shameless little meddler! Manipulating a girl's body without her consent!
But, of course, she couldn't voice this excuse. She knew the Observer would be long gone—at least until this fight was over.
The crowd's reaction was entirely reasonable, considering who Sonia had just challenged.
Leoni was a living legend at Swordflower University, her reputation as bright as the morning star. Whether it was her prodigious talent, her numerous accolades, or her infamous escapades, she was the kind of student everyone knew about.
On her very first day, she defeated every incoming swordsmanship freshman.
By her second year, she had ascended to the rank of one-wing Silver-tier swordsman and was taken under the wing of the university's other Sword Saint, the "Rhythm Sword Saint," Nidala.
In her third year, she joined a deep-sea expedition team alongside prodigies from Truth University, delving into the abyss and emerging victorious with countless treasures and achievements.
Even Truth University had tried to poach her. Many believed Leoni to be a Sword Saint candidate, a future luminary destined for the sanctified heights of swordsmanship.
To make matters worse, Leoni had spent the past six months rigorously honing her skills in the Abyss, intent on breaking through her current limits and ascending to two-wing status. In other words, Leoni was already a fully-fledged one-wing Silver-tier swordsman operating at maximum capacity.
Meanwhile, Sonia and Felix were virtual newcomers to the Void Realm. They hadn't even condensed a single "silver feather," let alone sprouted "silver wings." The gap in their magical power was staggering, akin to the difference between a child and a seasoned warrior.
Though magic power alone didn't dictate the outcome of a fight, it was hard to imagine Sonia standing even a ghost of a chance against Leoni.
Sonia herself knew this too well.
Leoni likely possessed more spell spirits, had mastered swordsmanship miracles, and had the kind of battle-hardened experience only the Abyss could provide.
The more Sonia thought about it, the more hopeless it seemed.
Why would the Observer do this to me?!
If she had to fight someone, why not Lorien? Losing to Lorien would only make people say he was bullying a weaker opponent. Losing to Leoni, however, would label Sonia as overconfident and foolish, someone who didn't know her place.
And then there were her arrogant words just moments ago.
If I lose badly, I'll never be able to face Professor Trozan again!
Her frustration only grew as she recalled how this wasn't even the first time the Observer had put her in such a situation. First, it was forcing her to challenge Felix, which led to today's mess. Now, it was Leoni.
And yet… the Observer wasn't wrong.
Strangely, Sonia no longer felt angry. All she could think about was heading into the Void tonight and strangling the Observer.
Having no way to back out now, Sonia gritted her teeth and nodded firmly. "Yes. I'm serious."
"Well then," Leoni said, her grin returning. "Your courage is admirable. As your senior in the swordsmanship department, I have no reason to refuse your challenge."
She paused for effect, then added, "However, as a member of the Disciplinary Committee, I can't allow a duel with such an obvious disparity in strength to take place without some fairness. So…"
Walking to the weapon rack, Leoni casually picked up a wooden training sword and said, "I'll impose some rules to ensure this is fair."
"Here's the deal: If I so much as touch you with my sword even once, I'll count it as your win."
"If you drop your sword, it'll be my victory."
"And of course, if you manage to disarm me, that will be your win as well."
The crowd burst into laughter. No one believed Sonia could make Leoni drop her sword. The condition sounded more like a pipe dream than an actual rule.
Turning to Felix and Lorien, Leoni continued, "These rules apply to you two as well. Lorien, either win without injuring Felix, or concede. Surely, as a third-year, you have the confidence to handle that?"
"You can make it even stricter if you like," Lorien replied coldly. "I don't mind."
Felix smiled faintly. "Such generous conditions leave me no reason to refuse."
When Leoni's gaze fell back on Sonia, something clicked in Sonia's mind.
This wasn't random. Leoni hadn't just happened to show up. She and Lorien had clearly planned this, using Celia's situation as a convenient pretext.
Leoni was the Rhythm Sword Saint's apprentice, and Felix and Sonia were Professor Trozan's students. Was this a clash between the university's two Sword Saints? Or was Leoni testing their mettle?
Regardless of the reason, Sonia had no choice but to follow through. Leoni's "generous" rules left her no room to back out.
Strangely, though, beneath her frustration and shame, Sonia felt a spark of battle hunger—along with a sting of humiliation at being underestimated.
Taking a deep breath, Sonia tightened her grip on her wooden sword. "No objections, Leoni."
"Then let the battle… begin!"
Blood Moon Dominion, Shattered Lake Prison.
Ash sat in the empty cafeteria, chewing on his overly salty "braised slug chops," and wondering what holiday he'd forgotten.
Why is the entire prison deserted?
Everywhere he'd gone that morning—Deadly Duel Society, the central hall, the library, the gym, the theater—had been eerily quiet. Apart from a few guards lazily fiddling with their holo-screens, the place felt abandoned. It was as if all the prisoners had unanimously decided to stay in their cells today.
But they still had to eat, right? Surely not everyone could afford the points to have meals delivered.
As Ash mulled over this growing unease, his spoon froze mid-air.
A holographic message suddenly popped up in front of him, cold and crimson:
"Dear Ash Heath, Inmate #4001623, Shattered Lake Prison formally informs you that you are now under Supervisory Status. Please maintain composure and comply with all directives from your assigned supervisor."
Ash's blood ran cold. He rose stiffly from his seat and walked to the cafeteria door, standing ramrod straight like a soldier awaiting inspection.
Soon, seven other inmates joined him, lining up with robotic precision. Among them, Ash recognized familiar faces: Valcas Uhl, the elven swordsman, and Ronath Wade, the infamous "Gourmet's" pet enforcer.
Each prisoner's expression was a kaleidoscope of emotions—fear, resignation, despair, and faint glimmers of hope. But when Ash looked closer, he saw a shared plea in their eyes:
Help me.
Minutes later, a towering, broad-shouldered warden entered the cafeteria. He smiled, revealing unsettlingly pale fangs.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm Nagur MacMillan, your supervisor for today. It's a pleasure to meet you all. Let's start with introductions—names, left to right."
One by one, the prisoners recited their names, their voices mechanical.
When it was Ash's turn, he found his mouth moving on its own: "Ash Heath."
Once the introductions were done, Warden MacMillan clapped his hands, satisfied. "Excellent. Here's today's schedule: lunch first, then we'll enjoy an afternoon movie, followed by some fresh air at the seaside platform. Thanks to the Human Rights Initiative, you'll also get an hour of communication time to contact friends or family."
He paused, his grin widening. "As for the evening, well… does anyone have any questions?"
Ash immediately raised his hand. The warden gestured for him to speak.
"What… what happens after dinner?" Ash asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
MacMillan chuckled, his grin taking on a sharper edge. He had seen this exact desperation countless times before, and breaking that last sliver of hope was always his favorite part.
"Why, Ash, after dinner, we'll be attending a live broadcast of the Blood Moon Trials, of course."