Damon had to admit—things weren’t looking good for him.
Sure, technically, he could win against Renata... if he went all out, used every skill, every trick in the book. But with so many people watching, he couldn’t just unleash everything. Not now. Not here.
He wasn’t the only cross-ranker on the field.
Renata was just as dangerous.
After all, she’d fought Lilith—and that was when she’d been an entire rank lower. She’d lost, sure... but surviving that fight had said enough about her power.
But what really unsettled him was her physical strength. Damon had once kicked a Rank 4 Beldam straight into dragon fire. Sure, she’d been caught off-guard—but her entire build was tailored for magical combat, not physical brawling.
Renata, on the other hand?
She t his punch head-on. With her own fist.
He understood now why she was called "the mage who kills mages."
Still, his attack hadn’t been pointless—her hand was visibly red. She’d taken damage. That confird it. Even if she was so demon with absurd physique stats, she was still a mage type.
So how was Damon the one sent flying?
It was simple.
She hadn’t matched his physicality—she’d reduced the value of his punch. That’s what her Zero attribute did. It diminished everything. By the ti his fist made contact, the strength behind it had already been drained.
And hers hadn’t.
Her blows retained their full weight.
That was the terrifying reality of her power.
And now—since she’d touched him—he could feel it. A mark. His energy, especially his shadow energy, was leaking away. Dropping closer and closer... to zero.
His mana wasn’t the problem—he had plenty to spare—but [5x] wouldn’t last forever.
This girl... he could see now why she was Lilith’s rival.
Damon smirked and glanced toward the headmaster.
He knew the old man was a Seventh-Class entity but Damon was Damon.
"Hey, old man," he called, "aren’t you just salty I destroyed your expensive toys so easily?"
The headmaster just smiled.
At that mont, Renata unleashed a violent wave of energy. Damon transford into shadow, slipping past it—but he felt the bite of cold in the air.
He narrowed his eyes. "You can even reduce temperature to zero..."
Renata’s cold grin returned. "Eyes on , buddy."
He had no sword. Fighting without a real weapon was limiting. Just as he thought that, a glint of magic caught his attention—an icy sword flew toward him.
Damon ducked and snatched it by the hilt.
He glanced toward the crowd—Matia stood there, having conjured the weapon for him. A gesture to support him, recognizing he was outmatched, or maybe she just acting on intuition.
His other weapons were artifacts, and thus forbidden in this evaluation. But this? This was just ice.
Renata raised a brow.
"Is that supposed to help? Also, isn’t this cheating?" She folded her arms. "You’re really popular with the ladies, huh..."
Damon ignored her. He held the sword, feeling the chill of Matia’s magic lingering inside it.
Ashborn would lt this thing in seconds—good thing he didn’t plan to use it.
He smiled faintly. "I figured you out, Renata. I know your weakness."
Renata raised a hand.
Space itself split as she waved, like a slash of invisible force slicing through the sky.
"Oh really?" she smirked. "Why don’t you show , then!"
The arena was sliced in half.
Damon flinched as the wave narrowly missed him—he felt the hair on his head lift from the pressure.
Close.
He poured mana into the ice blade.
It darkened—twisting with his umbral attribute—and he brought it down hard.
Dark Blade.
A wave of energy scread toward Renata.
She dodged low—so of her hair got caught in the arc. A few strands drifted in the air, severed.
Damon didn’t let up.
He slashed again and again, the dark ice sword howling with each swing. But Renata regained control—raising a zero barrier, weakening and erasing every attack.
Every strike failed.
It was humiliating, really.
She was a whole rank ahead of him—and still, he was making her work.
"If he had a proper weapon," she muttered, "he’d be even more annoying."
Her gaze sharpened—she could see it. His energy was draining, yes, but with each attack, he was growing stronger.
She raised her hand.
A strange glowing ring ford in the air—its shape like a twisted Möbius strip.
"I’ll just destroy everything."
Damon’s expression changed.
She was charging sothing big.
He took a stance, one foot behind the other, sword ready. The arena cracked under his feet. His uniform whipped in the wind. His mana surged.
And then—
"Oh well. Ti’s up."
He dropped his stance and walked away with a casual shrug.
The entire arena went still.
Renata blinked. "...What?"
"Not bad, Number Two," he said over his shoulder. "Not bad at all. You put up a good fight. I’ll let you take your ti digesting everything you’ve learned from today."
The crowd was stunned into silence.
Damon wasn’t done.
"Since I went easy on you," he added smugly, "we’ll call this a draw. Can’t have people thinking I have no honor and go around beating won."
He hopped out of the arena, landing next to Lilith like a man who had just granted rcy.
Lilith almost laughed seeing Renata’s expression.
The crowd watched him, half in awe, half in disbelief.
They knew he was at a disadvantage.
They knew Renata had been winning.
So why... why did it feel like Damon had won?
"He... he waited until he looked like he was on the offensive, then quit."
"What do you expect from the academy’s problem child..."
Damon didn’t care about pride.
In fact, he prided himself on having no pride at all.
Matia stepped up beside him, just in case Renata decided to retaliate. Her presence was enough of a deterrent.
Renata’s eye twitched. She barely knew this bastard, and yet—he had humiliated her.
"You... you..."
He waved a hand dramatically. "If I used my full power, I might’ve accidentally killed you. Let’s leave it at that."
He turned and began walking away, like a lone hero disappearing into the setting sun.
The crowd was entranced.
Until—
"Where are you going?" the Headmaster called out. "Your evaluation’s not over. You still need a ntal one."
Damon paused mid-step, then cleared his throat.
"Ahem... right. I was so rciful, I forgot about that..."
"Yeah, right..."
"Isn’t this the sa guy who stabbed his own friend during the mid-sester evaluation?"
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