The grand finale of the end-year exams arrived with the highly anticipated Hall Advancent events. It was the climax of the entire academic year, where halls from the lower, middle, and higher ranks would step onto the grand stage to challenge the reigning top halls.
Tens of thousands gathered—acolytes, instructors, and even honored guests, all eager to witness the spectacle. Among the sea of eager faces, all eyes were drawn to the newly fad Hall 33. Their stunning first-place victory in the group exam had catapulted them from relative obscurity to the center of attention. Now, it was ti for them to prove that their success was no fluke, to solidify their place among the elite.
From the podium, Headmaster Goldstein's gaze lingered on Ery. There was a subtle shift in his deanor. His voice echoed across the assembly. "You may choose your challenge,"
As the rule dictated, the first-place hall had the privilege of selecting its opponent from the top-ranked halls. The air crackled with speculation. Whispers surged through the audience as they debated who Ery would challenge.
Hall 10, the Navarro faction, lood large in the minds of many. With a powerful Three-Cosmos Grand Magus as their instructor, they were an intimidating choice. Most thought it unlikely. Hall 8 of the Mamoon faction seed like a safer bet—a fellow underdog, less daunting. So even speculated that Ery might go for Hall 9, the half-blood faction, playing on the unspoken alliance between them.
But without hesitation, Ery raised his hand and pointed directly at Hall 6—the Nephilim faction. His finger locked onto the Grand Magus instructor who had replaced the infamous Ishtar.
A hushed gasp swept through the audience, followed by an eruption of excitent. The Nephilim! The faction that embodied the academy's elite. This was no ordinary challenge. It was a declaration of defiance.
Ery called out his chosen acolyte—Ha Ron, Blaine, and KingRig, all gold-ranking acolytes who had consistently proven themselves throughout the competition. Their prowess was undeniable, and the crowd nodded in approval at their selection.
Then, Ery chose Evalice, the first-year female spider half-blood who had already caught the attention of many with her exceptional talent. But it was the final selection that sent ripples through the gathered crowd. Hardy, the acolyte who was neither Gold, silver nor even bronze rank. An unranked acolyte, A naless competitor to the academy at large. Many in the crowd raised their brows in confusion, whispering amongst themselves, questioning Ery's decision.
"Hardy? Who is that?"
As the Kaleos noble stepped up onto the stage, the anxiety was clear in his eyes. The weight of the mont bore down on him—his first major public fight, with thousands watching, and his hall counting on him.
Ery offered words of encouragent. "Do your best," he said simply, yet the sincerity in his voice was all Hardy needed to focus. The stage was set, and the tension in the arena was suffocating as the first acolyte from the Nephilim faction stepped forward. He was a silver ranker, a prominent figure within Hall 6. His presence radiated confidence, and the audience cheered for him as though his victory was already assured.
However, this Nephilim noble had faced Hardy before, back on Veloria Pri. Still, the Nephilim's pride remained intact. He sneered at Hardy as they faced each other on the grand stage. "I know you're not weak, But without your minions to protect you, I doubt you can do much here."
The arena was filled with tension as Hardy took a deep breath, his fingers lightly gripping the energy blaster at his side. The mont the signal was given to begin, he unleashed a barrage of rapid, precise shots, the blue energy bolts zipping through the air toward his Nephilim opponent. His movents were quick, fluid, showing the sharp accuracy he had honed during his countless practice sessions.
However, his opponent was no ordinary acolyte. The Nephilim acolyte smirked, his eyes flashing as he activated his signature ability—[Angelic Descent]. The crowd gasped as ethereal wings of light unfurled from the Nephilim's back, his entire form glowing with divine energy. He moved with breathtaking speed, his sword gleaming as he surged forward.
Hardy cast his own Lightwings spell to keep up, but it was nowhere near the divine technique passed down exclusively within the Nephilim elite. The Nephilim's movents were too swift—his angelic form darted and weaved between the bolts like a wisp of light. Hardy found himself steadily retreating, each missed shot adding to the mounting pressure.
The crowd was on edge, murmurs of doubt rippling through the stands.
"He can't hit him!"
"That Nephilim is too fast!"
Hardy's face remained calm, though his eyes betrayed the tension building inside him. His movents beca more frantic as the Nephilim acolyte closed the distance, the glowing figure relentlessly advancing with his sword raised high. Hardy fired another round, but the Nephilim was already upon him, his blade cutting through the air with lethal precision.
Hardy's back hit the edge of the arena, and the Nephilim acolyte let out a triumphant laugh.
"Hahaha! You lost!" he shouted, eyes gleaming with the certainty of his impending victory.
With a powerful cry, the Nephilim charged in, ready to deliver the final blow. The audience held their breath, convinced the match was over.
But in that split second, Hardy's calm deanor transford. His hand flicked out, tossing several small beads toward the space between them.
BOOMMM!!
The beads exploded, releasing a blinding flash of light that flooded the entire arena. The crowd gasped, their vision temporarily obscured by the intensity of the blast.
However, having observed Hardy's tricks before, the Nephilim was ready for deception. At that precise mont, he closed his eyes and predicted where Hardy would escape. But Hardy didn't flee or dodge—he charged forward, catching his opponent completely off guard.
The split second the Nephilim closed his eyes disrupted his reaction, giving Hardy the perfect opening. What happened next left him stunned—Hardy had switched weapons. A [Lightsaber], glowing with deadly energy, humd as it sliced through the air. The Nephilim acolyte caught off guard, scrambled to cast his life-saving spell, but at the worst possible mont, his body froze—he couldn't move.
"WHAT! NO!!" he shouted in panic.
A flash of light followed as the lightsaber struck ho, slicing through the Nephilim's defenses. The blade bit deep, and the Nephilim's body staggered, collapsing to the ground, incapacitated before he could react.
The crowd exploded in a roar of approval, their voices filling the arena as Hardy stood victorious and secured a stunning first win for Hall 33.
User Comments
0 comments from readers