NOVEL NEXT Chapter 30: Magic Fighting
Through careful preparation, Emma's nature magic had woven beneath the ground, her footsteps strategically spreading vines to form an intricate ritual circle. The pattern lay dormant, waiting to be awakened as she led Leon into position. She dodged into the circle's center, summoning a vine that burst from the earth to ensnare him. Leon's string claws slashed through it instantly, shredding the plant matter.
Emma darted backward, and before Leon could push forward, she presses her palms against the ground. "Veythara sylva entralis!" she cried, her hands blazing with purple light threaded with green undertones. The ritual circle beneath Leon surged to life, vines erupting from the ground in a violent tangle.
Leon swatted at the encroaching plants with fevered intensity, but they proved too numerous. The vines entwined his limbs, wrapping him in an inescapable embrace. He struggled against their grasp, muscles straining as he roared in frustration. His veins bulged beneath his skin as he fought with all his might, but before he could break free, Emma closed the distance. Her mana-infused fist hovered above his head as she halted her charge.
"Emma wins," Professor Bain announced.
Seeing Leon immobilized within Emma's verdant trap, Professor Bain's announcement sparked an eruption of cheers from the gathered students. "That's my class rep!" someone shouted over the thunderous applause, their pride echoing through whistles and enthusiastic cheering. Even Max offered firm, appreciative claps.
"Holy moly, that was one hell of a fight," Max breathed, his eyes blazing with fevered intensity, betraying his own hunger for combat.
Emma stepped back from her opponent, releasing her ritual. The vines receded into the ground like water down a drain, leaving Leon to massage his aching muscles.
"You just got lucky," Leon growled, his pride clearly wounded. "If I would've noticed your ritual, you would have been sliced to ribbons." His words carried the bitter taste of defeat.
"We both know there's no 'what ifs' in war Leon." Emma's voice cut through his excuses like a blade. "Save your excuses for the Reaper in the afterlife." She turned away, falling back into the crowd of spectators.
The words then burn into Leon's mind as he too turned away, a frustrated scoff escaping his lips. His fists clenched until his knuckles whitened, determination hardening in his chest. 'One day I'll beat her,' he vowed silently, carrying his wounded pride from the arena.
Professor Bain smiled as the class erupted in applause, their enthusiasm for combat evident in every cheer. Unlike some classes that viewed fighting as barbaric, these students embraced it - a promising sign for the United Front's future warriors.
"Han, Michael, you're next," Professor Bain called out. A wave of whispers rippled through the gathered students, their expectations clear in every murmured prediction of the noble's victory. Randy and Max shared a troubled glance, their usual confidence replaced by genuine concern for their friend.
"Han's going to get demolished," Randy whispered, anxiety threading through his words. "Michael's wind magic is no joke - I've seen him slice training dummies in half with those air blades."
"Yeah, this might get ugly," Max agreed, his enhanced frame tensing with worry. Though Han had proven himself capable in their combat classes, he was far from a prodigy when it came to fighting. "What do you think, Alex?"
Alex's lips curved into a knowing smile, memories of countless training sessions with Han flickering through his mind. Among their circle of friends, he alone had witnessed Han's true capabilities during their magical combat practice.
"I wouldn't be so quick to judge," Alex replied, quiet confidence coloring his tone.
Hearing Alex's confidene tone they look closer at Han.
Han emerged from the crowd; his face painted with nervous anticipation as while his eyes steeled for the coming battle. Across from him, Michael strutted forward in his pristine white uniform, its light green fringes and Zenith Order badge declaring his noble heritage.
"This should be easy," Michael sneered, noble arrogance dripping from every word as he looked down at Han. "Just put up a good fight, what do you say?" His cockiness, born from generations of assumed superiority over commoners, filled the air between them. Han met the taunt with studied indifference, focusing instead on Professor Bain as he took position between the combatants.
"On my signal, begin." Professor Bain's hand sliced through the air, and Michael burst forward, his wind-based bloodline propelling him like a tempest. His open palm struck out, air swirling around it to form a miniature tornado. Han rolled sideways, reinforcing his body with mana as he absorbed the impact, skidding across the ground before circling his opponent.
"Running now, are we?" Michael taunted, cranking his speed to maximum. "You should know better than to run from a speedster!" He dashed through the dojo with lightning quickness, closing the distance. Han's face showed unease, but his eyes remained remarkably calm.
Alex watched intently, noting the contradiction between Han's panicked expression and his collected gaze. 'He's baiting him,' Alex realized.
Just as Michael's fist seemed destined for Han's back, Han pivoted on his heel, executing a perfect 180-degree turn. He grabbed Michael's extended arm, using the noble's momentum against him in a devastating shoulder throw. Michael crashed against the ground with bone-jarring force, saliva spraying from his mouth.
Standing over his prone opponent, Han drew in a massive breath, his chest expanding dramatically. "KYAAA!!!" The sound erupted from his throat in concentrated waves, visible ripples of sonic force hammering down at Michael. The noble's eyes rolled back instantly as his eardrums ruptured, consciousness fleeing before the sonic assault.
"Winner: Han!" Professor Bain announced, ending the match before further damage could be dealt.
Silence fills the room, the crowd stunned by Han's display of fervor and intensity against Michael. Han strides back through the crowd toward Alex and his friends, head held high with confidence. "Like what you see?" Han asks with a satisfied smile. "Hell yeah!" Alex responds, eagerly offering his fist for a bump. "What the heck was that, Han?" Randy exclaims, baffled by how Han had dispatched Michael as easily as a low-level monster.
As the boys converse amongst themselves, congratulating Han for his win, the Zenith Order students in the class glare daggers at them, silently marking them as targets. Dereck, in particular, fixes them with hateful eyes that promise future retribution.
Professor Bain then calls forth several more students for combat demonstrations. These matches prove closer in skill level, though less spectacular in their magical displays than the earlier fights. Most students rely primarily on mana reinforcement, adding minor elemental effects to enhance their basic combat abilities. However, those who truly distinguish themselves in magical combat are the ones capable of transforming their bloodlines into actual spells - skilled practitioners like Han, Emma, Leon, and Michael.
As they reach the halfway point through the class, the next member of their friend group gets called - Randy. Upon hearing his name, his shoulders tense visibly. He starts shaking them out, trying to calm his nerves.
"I got this, I got this," he whispers to himself as both Max and Alex tap his back reassuringly.
"We got you," they tell him with quiet confidence.
Drawing strength from his friends' encouragement, Randy steels his nerves, squaring his shoulders as he faces down his opponent. The echoes of their support seem to ripple through him, steadying his racing heart and clearing his mind for the challenge ahead.
Walking forward with measured steps, Randy makes his way to center stage. Looking up, he finds himself face-to-face with his opponent.
Freddy stands before him, bearing the mark of a lower-tier noble family with an Ash bloodline - a hybrid of air and fire that grants the power to transform objects into ashen variants. His family earned their fame through crafting, particularly a revolutionary potion that maximizes their Ash bloodline's full potential.
The two face each other, eyes locked in mutual respect. Unlike many nobles, Freddy regards Randy as an equal. Professor Rain steps between them, raising his hand high. "On my mark," he announces, then swipes his hand downward.
Randy immediately leaps backward, weaving his hands to reinforce mana around his arms. He barely blocks Freddy's strike as the noble launches an aggressive offensive, forcing Randy to backpedal under the relentless assault.
"You think Randy's going to be okay?" Max asks concernedly, glancing at Han and Alex.
"You've seen what he can do," Alex responds, watching Randy struggle defensively against Freddy's onslaught. "That's quite a dangerous tool he's got. But you're right - it all depends on whether he can use it properly."
"Your right it all depends on if he can." Han says.
Turning back to the fight the boys see Freedy's continuing assault.
With a battle cry, Freddy spots an opening and kicks Randy's side, sending him rolling across the ground. Randy narrowly dodges Freddy's follow-up strike, the noble's fist whistling through empty air.
"Stop running!" Freddy shouts in frustration.
Ignoring the taunt, Randy quickly regains his footing and creates distance. 'I just need two seconds to use that,' he thinks, watching Freddy charge forward again. 'But first, I've got to find a way to stagger him.'
Knowing time is short, Randy analyzes Freddy's attack pattern. He notices something crucial - at the end of each combo, mana gathers in Freddy's hand like he's preparing for a burst punch of ash, a finishing blow he hasn't yet landed due to Randy's constant evasion.
'If I can bait out that mana burst,' Randy strategizes, 'make him release that ash attack where it won't fully connect, I'll have my opening to strike.' With this plan forming, he continues his defensive maneuvers, deliberately maintaining distance.
Then, Randy appears to make a critical error - his foot catches, his balance wavers. Freddy's eyes light up at the opportunity. "Got you now!" he shouts, driving his fist downward toward the seemingly vulnerable Randy.
But as Freddy's fist descends, gray sparks crackling around his knuckles, Randy executes his true strategy. Pivoting on his back heel, he twists away at the last possible moment. The ash-infused strike only grazes his right shoulder instead of landing squarely on his chest.
Grimacing through the pain, Randy channels his prepared counterattack. His heart thunders in his chest as he spins, necrotic essence coating his fist with freezing energy. The movement carries him around, bringing his fist toward the back of Freddy's head.
During his calculated counter, Randy pushes his mind to its absolute limits, dividing his focus between the physical demands of his spinning motion and the precise control of his necrotic essence. Though this power courses through his veins naturally now, his E-Teir bloodline rank demands careful restraint - too much power could prove catastrophic.
He concentrates on the icy essence flowing through his body, tracking its path from his transformed heart, down his arm, and finally pooling in his clenched fist. The cold energy dances across his knuckles as he harnesses the momentum from Freddy's attack, his body completing its circular motion with deadly precision. As he spins, time seems to slow, his fist arcing through the air toward the back of Freddy's exposed head with calculated force.
Upon impact, necrotic energy erupts from the point of contact, threatening to spread its devastating rot through Freddy's body.
Professor Bain intervenes swiftly, halting the necrotic energy's advance before it can cause permanent damage. "The winner - Randy," he announces, ending the match.