BOOOOOM!
The explosion swallowed the stage in a violent surge of fire and debris.
The crowd collectively held its breath as shockwaves rippled outward, heat washing over the arena like a living tide. Flaming shards of stone shot skyward before being instantly intercepted by layered defensive barriers erected by the instructors.
For several heartbeats, nothing could be seen.
Then—
huff… huff…
A figure emerged through the thinning smoke.
Yamada Riku stood unsteadily at the center of the ruined battlefield, leaning heavily on his staff. The once-solid weapon was cracked and blackened, its surface fractured from absorbing the brunt of the inferno. His defensive robes were scorched, threads burned away, exposing ash-darkened fabric beneath. Sweat poured down his face, and each breath came ragged and strained.
But he was still standing.
Across from him, Kazuma Takumi remained upright, flames slowly dissipating around his body. Though his armor and sword showed no visible damage, his posture betrayed the truth—his shoulders were tense, muscles trembling slightly as the backlash of spirit summoning took its toll.
For a brief moment, neither moved.
Takumi exhaled slowly, then gave a crooked smile.
"I'll admit it," he said. "I didn't think you'd still be on your feet."
Riku smirked faintly, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"And I didn't think you'd be wasting time talking just to recover mana."
Takumi laughed softly, unbothered.
"Sharp as ever."
The two locked eyes.
"Then let's end it," Riku said, tightening his grip on the staff. "No reason to drag this out."
Takumi's grin widened. He could have stalled—let the spirits feed him more mana, regain dominance, and overwhelm Riku decisively.
But that wasn't his style.
Fire surged once more, spiraling around his legs and flowing into his longsword. The blade glowed brighter with each passing second, heat warping the air around it.
Takumi lowered his stance.
Riku responded immediately.
Despite his exhaustion, he drew deeply upon the ambient mana, reinforcing the ground beneath his feet. Earth rippled outward, forming layered defensive plates as he planted his staff firmly against the stage.
The moment hung suspended.
Then—
Takumi moved.
He exploded forward, flames roaring behind him like a comet's tail. Each step cracked the ground, molten trails marking his path.
Riku reacted with everything he had left.
Stone erupted upward in jagged spikes, projectiles tearing through the air in an attempt to intercept the charge. At the same time, he channeled all remaining strength into his staff, creating a dense earthen barrier before him.
BANG!
Fire and earth collided in a deafening impact.
The resulting shockwave blasted outward, rattling the entire arena. Several spectators shielded their eyes as the stage buckled under the force.
Takumi was hurled backward, skidding violently across the stone. He managed to dig his sword into the ground, slowing himself after nearly twenty meters before collapsing to one knee. His body shook as exhaustion finally caught up to him.
Riku fared worse.
The barrier shattered completely.
He was launched across the stage, tumbling uncontrollably before striking the far edge. His body went limp as he slid to a stop, unconscious.
Golden motes of light drifted through the air as both Astrafylix spirits dissolved, their forms breaking apart into shimmering particles that vanished into the ether.
A heavy silence followed.
Then the announcer's voice rang out.
"The spar is over!"
"Winner—Kazuma Takumi!"
The arena erupted.
Thunderous cheers rolled through the stands, the crowd exhilarated by the sheer intensity of the match. Unlike most spars, this battle had showcased raw tenacity—two heirs pushing themselves beyond limits even without access to their full mana reserves.
------------------
Kagayaki Akiko turned her gaze toward Kazuma Hirosaki, her expression composed but questioning.
"Was it wise," she asked calmly, "to allow Spirit Magic to be used so openly?"
Hirosaki shrugged, arms crossed.
"Takumi doesn't care much for restraint. He wanted a fight worth remembering."
His lips curved slightly.
"If he'd relied solely on physical strength, Riku wouldn't have lasted half as long."
Yamada Kiyoshi's brow furrowed.
"Perhaps that would have been preferable," he said. "Spirit Magic is meant to be an advantage against demons. Its secrecy exists for a reason."
There was a faint edge to his voice—displeasure not only at the exposure, but at seeing his son pushed so far.
Kazehana Yuriko reclined comfortably, a mischievous grin on her face.
"What's done is done," she said lightly. "At least the crowd enjoyed themselves."
Yamikage Shouhei said nothing.
His gaze remained cold as he motioned subtly to a subordinate.
"Ensure Spirit Magic is prohibited in the remaining matches," he ordered quietly.
The subordinate bowed and vanished without a sound.
------------------
After a 15-minute break
"Ladies and gentlemen!" the host announced.
"The third and final match of the first round is between Mizuno Haruka and Kazehana Airi!"
"Please welcome the contenders to the stage!"
Water surged across the arena as Haruka arrived, standing atop a flowing river that parted seamlessly beneath her feet as she stepped onto solid ground. Her movements were graceful, controlled, every action precise.
Moments later, Airi descended from above, encased in swirling torrents of wind. She landed lightly, the air howling briefly before settling—an unmistakable display of mastery.
The instructor approached, placing mana crystals before them. Both drained their mana in silence.
"Will you be using weapons or artifacts?" she asked.
"None," they answered simultaneously.
After a brief inspection, the instructor stepped back.
"Three…"
"Two…"
"One…"
"Start!"
Airi smirked.
"Trying to imitate my style now, Haruka?"
Haruka's expression remained serene.
"I don't recall copying anyone."
Airi clicked her tongue.
"Tch."
Without further words, both shifted into motion.
[Tempest Centum – First Form: Whispers of the Breeze]
A martial arts wind technique unleashing over a hundred razor-sharp wind slashes, each strike growing sharper and more refined as momentum builds.
[Tidal Harmony – Dance of Flowing Waves]
A water-based martial art composed of twenty fluid forms, seamlessly transitioning between offense and defense by reversing the flow of water.
Wind screamed.
Water surged.
Unlike the previous match, there were no explosions—only precision, rhythm, and control.
The Duke Families had long understood a crucial truth: demons possessed bodies resilient enough to shrug off most spells.
Martial arts were not optional.
They were essential.
And as the two heirs clashed, it became clear—
This battle would be fought not through overwhelming power…
…but through mastery.