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The entire Daming Federation held its breath for the finals between Northgate University and Northwestern Tech.
One side: A fallen powerhouse resurrected by a freshman prodigy, returning to glory after years of humiliation.
The other: An unknown school that had clawed its way from obscurity to the championship stage, defying all predictions.
Everyone wanted to witness history. But first, they had to overcome one insurmountable obstacle.
That obstacle was named Russell Whitmore.
Russell himself wasn't overthinking the finals. First, he was confident he could beat Anson. Second, excessive analysis was pointless—better to meditate or engage in some recreational "Pokémon battles."
"I'm dangerously close to Gold level," he muttered, opening his eyes with genuine concern. Breaking through before the individual competition would be... problematic. No Gold-rank had ever competed in nationals—not because it was explicitly forbidden, but because it had never happened.
"Would they disqualify me? Or just let it slide?"
The tragedy of being too talented. First world problems of the cultivation world.
Finals day arrived with the kind of anticipation usually reserved for natural disasters or celebrity scandals.
Russell stood before Blake Whitmore, attempting to look respectful rather than cocky—a constant struggle.
"Russell," Blake said seriously, "are you certain? That Anson boy... there's something about him."
"If he only has what he's shown, I'll manage," Russell replied.
Blake patted his shoulder meaningfully. "Just remember—overconfidence precedes disaster."
Lucian and the others barely breathed in Blake's presence. Meeting their teammate's Master-level teacher up close was intimidating, even if Blake seemed relatively kind.
"By the way," Blake mentioned casually, watching venue preparations, "Young Yves should arrive today."
The bombshell landed silently before detonating in their minds.
Russell processed first, inhaling sharply. "Yves St. Clair? THE Yves St. Clair?"
Blake nodded, smiling at their shock.
Grant stammered, "The Palace-level cardmaker who hasn't appeared publicly in years?"
The team's brains collectively blue-screened. A Palace-level cardmaker attending their match? Yves St. Clair, who supposedly spent every moment suppressing catastrophic secret realms?
In the VIP section, Alaric checked the sun's position. "When did Yves say he'd arrive?"
Valeron, deep in conversation with another elder, turned. "Before the match starts. Maybe we can get him to speak."
They could have delayed for him, but Yves had explicitly said not to wait—emergencies with his secret realm could arise anytime.
Suddenly, sunlight streaming through windows intensified. Despite cooling cards, the temperature rose noticeably—warm, not oppressive, like standing in perfect spring sunshine.
"He's here."
The elders moved to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking skyward.
Blake paused mid-conversation with Russell. "Young Yves has arrived. I'll go greet him. Don't feel pressured today, Russell. Losing wouldn't be shameful."
President Ding's face twisted at the casual dismissal of victory, but held his tongue.
Then HE appeared.
A young man materialized in the venue—pale as moonlight, beautiful in the way terminal illness sometimes makes people beautiful, radiating power that made the air itself genuflect.
[Hyperion, Lord of Light] Yves St. Clair. The only Palace-level cardmaker in the Federation.
"He looks so young," Lucian whispered.
Everyone knew Yves was nearly forty, kept youthful by his cards' effects. Russell had asked Blake about aging—logically, Masters shouldn't look old. Blake had explained that early injuries and neglecting physical enhancement cards had left him irreversibly aged.
Federation cardmakers rarely had good endings. Only three Masters and one Palace-level existed publicly, and those on the Association's frontlines against secret realms suffered even higher casualties.
But Yves being here means the Shu Highlands realm is stable, Russell thought. Though that paleness...
It wasn't the pallor of fair skin but of profound exhaustion. Combined with Regent Jin's comment months ago—"Yves won't hold on much longer"—a terrible possibility emerged.
Is this appearance meant to calm public panic? A dying man's last tour?
The crowd exploded.
"YVES ST. CLAIR! THE LIVING LEGEND!"
"I knew he was alive! Internet trolls said the footage was old!"
Blake and Frank Dragomir joined Yves in the air. After brief conversation, all three headed to the VIP section.
Valeron immediately grabbed Yves's hands. "You've worked so hard. The Federation will never forget your sacrifice."
Yves smiled noncommittally. "Everyone works hard. Not just me."
"Without you," Alaric interrupted, glancing behind meaningfully, "the Shu realm would have killed thousands."
Yves caught the look but changed subjects smoothly. "Master Blake, that's your new disciple?"
"What do you think?"
A smile ghosted across Yves's pale features. "Monster. Nearly Gold already? When he advances, send him to Shu for training?"
Blake mock-swatted him. "Stop trying to steal my students!"
Yves laughed, dodging. Just teasing—he wouldn't send children to die in that hellscape even if they volunteered.
On the field, teams prepared for battle.
Northgate's strategy was simple: ascending order of strength, saving Russell for last.
The team was nervous. The national finals—a dream scenario they couldn't have imagined at semester's start. Yet here they stood, Russell's addition having rocketed them from bottom-dwellers to championship contenders.
Yuna went first, predictably losing but weakening her opponent.
Grant followed, managing to defeat two Northwestern members before falling.
Jean eliminated one more, leaving three versus three.
"They're out of tricks except Anson," Russell told Lucian. "The rest are cannon fodder."
Lucian nodded. "I'll try to expose Anson's capabilities. The more I reveal, the easier for you."
"Restore Northgate's glory!" Lucian declared, taking the field.
His battle was fierce but brief. Dark clouds gathered, lightning danced, and Northwestern's fourth member fell quickly.
Then Anson took the stage.
Three silver robots materialized. Lucian immediately targeted the module carrier—destroy the base unit, and the weapons become useless.
The other robots desperately defended, but Lucian's black-armored warrior pressed forward relentlessly.
BOOM!
Anson's robots self-destructed.
Lucian's face twisted. Decisive bastard.
"Weapon Module: [Celestial Phenomenon: Sun, Moon, and Star] loading initiated."
"Loading complete. Current Combat Mode: Normal."
Blue beams pierced the storm clouds.
"Day."
The miniature sun manifested, instantly vaporizing Lucian's carefully prepared thunderclouds. Without lightning enhancement, his warrior's strength plummeted.
Continuous white light hammered down. When it faded, Lucian's cards had vanished entirely.
He sighed with relief. At least he'd forced Anson to use "Day"—one trump card revealed.
In the VIP section, Yves studied Anson's technique with interest. "Fascinating design. And there's something else..."
Blake and Frank nodded, confirming his suspicion.
"Your student might have competition, Blake."
Blake just smiled. Absolute confidence in Russell radiated from him.
"Leave it to me," Russell told his team, walking toward the battlefield.
"Russell," Anson called out, "I used to envy you."
Russell paused, listening.
"I don't have much talent, honestly. Without the Dean, I'd still be a worthless orphan. You're an orphan too—you know how hard that first card is. But I got lucky. Found a mentor, a partner. Didn't have to scramble like a wild dog until I rotted."
Russell stared, then rolled his eyes dramatically. "Apologize to every other contestant! If YOU lack talent, they should all quit immediately!"
Another late-bloomer genius like me. Great. Next he'll scream about friendship and bonds before going Super Saiyan.
Anson stared, then burst out laughing—genuine, cathartic laughter that brought tears.
"You're right," he gasped, wiping his eyes. "I'm being pretentious."
He straightened, smile sharp as a blade.
"Come on then, Russell. Let's settle this."
"A duel between a genius and a wild dog."
(End of Chapter)
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