The Promise of the Arena
The martial arena of Celestis Academy was vast.
A vast open space sat at the center of the school grounds, paved with stones smoothed by decades of movent. Morning after morning, those from the top division moved through forms on that surface. Sounds lingered in the breeze - steel eting steel, motions interrupting motion, traces left behind.
This morning, though, sothing about the air had shifted.
A hush moved across the crowd, sharp as a pulled thread.
Folks showing up weren’t just from one corner of the school - every division sent soone. So walked in groups, others alone, but all ended up in the sa place. Not a single section missed out on being part of it.
Following Kevin’s lead, the crowd slowly entered the arena.
The seven division leaders were already waiting at the front.
From a distance, they stood like ancient mountains—silent, steady, watching.
Among them stood Leon.
His long black hair flowed behind his shoulders, the midnight robe with thin athyst embroidery shifting softly in the morning wind. His purple eyes were calm, unreadable.
Beside him, the other division leaders observed the gathering students.
Compared with the other teams, Athyst Summit Division looked...
Almost lonely.
Other divisions had dozens of students standing neatly behind their leaders.
Rows and rows of disciples ford disciplined formations.
But behind Leon—
There were only three people.
Selena.
Rias.
And Harry Taylor.
Of the three, only the first two were official students.
The difference was so obvious that many people couldn’t help glancing at them.
Three people.
Against dozens.
The contrast was almost amusing.
Harry scratched his cheek awkwardly and muttered under his breath.
"...Why does it suddenly feel like we’re the poor relatives of the academy?"
Rias stifled a laugh.
Selena simply stood calmly beside Leon, her snow-white robe swaying lightly in the breeze. The pale blue sash tightened around her slender waist accentuated the gentle curve of her peach-shaped hips. The fabric of her robe hugged her body softly, hinting at the natural curves of her chest beneath.
But her expression remained cold.
Focused.
None of the whispers around her seed to matter.
Up ahead—
Mike slowly stroked his grey beard as he looked down at the rows of young faces gathered below.
His eyes softened slightly.
A quiet sigh escaped him.
"I have mixed feelings when I look at these young faces."
His voice wasn’t loud, but the arena fell silent enough for everyone to hear.
"Once upon a ti... we were also among them."
He smiled faintly.
"We were hot-blooded."
"Reckless."
"Arrogant."
The old man’s eyes drifted across the students.
"In the pursuit of immortality... we believed nothing could stop us."
"But the path is uncertain."
His voice carried a quiet heaviness.
"In the blink of an eye, so many years have passed."
"There are already very few senior and junior brothers left who once fought side by side with ."
For a mont—
The wind passed silently across the arena.
Even the students seed affected by the tone of his words.
Mike continued slowly.
"Sotis I wonder..."
"When we old fellows leave one day..."
"Will these young disciples still be able to carry the legacy left behind by our elders?"
His gaze softened.
"But now..."
"I feel relieved."
He gestured toward the gathered students.
"These young disciples are all extraordinary."
"They are promising."
Shera—looked at him with surprise.
"When did Senior Brother beco so sentintal?"
Mike chuckled.
"I’m old."
He waved his hand casually.
"When you reach my age, you start thinking about things like this."
For him, the matter had long been settled.
Just like ten years ago—
When he personally witnessed the death of Respected Zeon.
Life and death.
Rise and fall.
After seeing enough of them, the heart gradually beca calm.
Shera opened his mouth as if he wanted to say sothing.
But Mike had already stepped forward.
His figure walked slowly to the center of the arena.
Then—
His voice echoed across the entire square.
It was deep.
Ancient.
Like the echo of the Principal itself.
"I hereby announce..."
"That the Seven Divisions Martial eting..."
"Has officially begun."
The arena erupted instantly.
Mike raised his hand slightly and continued.
"There are a total of eight qualification spots in this Martial eting."
"As long as you enter the top eight..."
"You will receive rewards."
A brief pause followed.
Then he spoke again.
"For the first place..."
"The reward will be a supre-grade spirit dicine, one Mana Guidance Fruit, and additional dicinal pills."
The crowd exploded.
"Mana Guidance Fruit?!"
"This... Headmaster has really spent a lot this ti!"
Excited whispers spread everywhere.
Eyes lit up across the arena.
The Mana Guidance Fruit was extrely rare.
In the Forsaken Domain, it was considered one of the most precious spiritual treasures below immortal dicine.
Its ability to enhance comprehension alone made it priceless.
But even more importantly—
It could help cultivators understand the Principal.
For those stuck at bottlenecks for years...
It was almost a miracle dicine.
Even Leon’s eyes flickered slightly when he heard the reward.
Mana Guidance Fruit...
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
I happen to need this right now.
Although its direct effect on him wasn’t overwhelming—
He possessed the Grand Return System.
As long as he obtained the fruit...
Returning it could yield sothing far greater.
Not bad.
Below the stage—
Selena heard the reward as well.
Her eyes instinctively shifted toward Leon.
She noticed the subtle change in his expression.
Her fingers slowly tightened around the hilt of the Athyst Mist Sword.
A quiet thought ford in her heart.
Teacher cares about this reward.
Her gaze grew firm.
Teacher has treated with kindness heavier than a mountain.
Now... it’s ti for to repay him.
The arena’s noise faded in her ears.
She had already set her goal.
First place.
Not far away—
Shan stood among the students of Secret Sword Summit.
A strange smile appeared on his face.
"So it’s true."
"As Father said..."
"The reward really is a supre-grade spirit dicine."
"And the Mana Guidance Fruit."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"If that’s the case..."
"I must win it."
His voice dropped into a whisper only he could hear.
"And give it to Father..."
"To help him break through."
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