By the third duel, Aren Valerius Arcanveil understood the academy's intent with absolute clarity.
They were not testing his strength.
They were testing his endurance.
Arena Seven smelled faintly of ozone and frost residue, remnants of his previous match still clinging to the air. The defensive arrays hummed softly, resetting for another engagement.
Aren stood alone at the center, sword resting tip-down against the stone.
His breathing was steady.
But beneath that calm—
My stamina curve is flattening, he noted clinically.
Mental focus is holding, but mana recovery is slowing.
That was the danger of attrition.
Not the first duel.
Not the second.
But the third, fourth, fifth—when hesitation crept in unnoticed.
Across the arena, his next opponent stepped forward.
Opponent POV – Darius Volken (Rank 129)
Darius cracked his neck once, eyes locked onto Aren.
A sword again, he thought. But different.
Unlike Roderic, Darius didn't carry arrogance. Unlike Selene, he didn't rely on control.
He was a brawler—a hybrid who reinforced his body with mana and crushed opponents through relentless pressure.
They sent me because I don't stop, Darius realized.
Good.
He liked that.
"Don't take this personally," Darius said, rolling his shoulders. "I just want to climb."
Aren inclined his head slightly.
"So do I."
The instructor didn't waste words.
"Begin."
Aren POV
Darius charged immediately.
No testing.
No spacing.
Pure forward momentum.
He wants to overwhelm me before fatigue sets in, Aren assessed.
Darius's fist came first—mana-wrapped, heavy, aimed at Aren's chest rather than his blade.
Aren parried with the flat of his sword, redirecting the blow just enough to avoid a direct hit. The impact rattled up his arm, pain blooming instantly.
Strong, Aren judged. Stronger than Roderic.
He stepped back, letting Darius advance.
The brawler followed, fists and elbows flowing in a brutal rhythm, each strike reinforced by bursts of mana that cracked the air.
Aren blocked.
Deflected.
Dodged.
But he didn't counter.
Not yet.
Countering meant commitment.
Commitment meant energy.
And energy was the resource being tested.
Darius POV
He's retreating, Darius noticed with a grin. Good.
Pressure built.
Each missed strike still forced Aren to move, to react, to think.
He's already fought twice today, Darius reminded himself. No one stays sharp forever.
He increased output.
Mana surged through his limbs, veins glowing faintly beneath his skin.
Aren's foot slipped—just a fraction—on the stone.
Darius capitalized instantly.
A knee strike slammed into Aren's midsection.
Pain exploded outward.
Aren flew backward, skidding across the arena floor before catching himself with his sword.
The crowd stirred.
"That's the first solid hit he's taken today."
"So he can be pushed."
Aren wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.
Internal bruise, he assessed calmly. Manageable.
He stood.
Darius laughed.
"There it is," he said. "You bleed like the rest of us."
Aren's Inner Analysis (Mid-Fight)
Darius's flaw isn't power, Aren realized.
It's trajectory.
Every attack moved forward.
Always forward.
No feints. No retreats.
Then I'll change the direction.
Aren shifted his grip.
Sword intent tightened—not expanding, but compressing inward.
Mana followed.
Dual Path Sovereignty adjusted the flow automatically, stabilizing the surge.
Pain lanced through his arms.
He accepted it.
This exchange decides the fight.
Clash
Aren stepped forward.
Not back.
Darius blinked.
Too late.
Aren's blade didn't slash.
It hooked, catching Darius's forearm at an angle, redirecting momentum sideways.
At the same time, Aren twisted his hips and released a controlled burst of mana into the ground.
The stone cracked.
The force disrupted Darius's footing.
Balance broke.
For a brawler, that was fatal.
Aren struck—not with full power, but precision—his blade stopping at Darius's throat, close enough for the mana pressure to sting.
Silence.
Then—
"Match concluded," the instructor announced. "Winner—Aren Valerius Arcanveil."
Darius froze, chest heaving.
He stared at the sword, then laughed breathlessly.
"…Damn."
He stepped back and bowed once.
"Well played."
Observer POV – Lucien Valecrest (Protagonist)
Lucien stood near the upper walkways, golden mana flowing quietly around him.
He had watched all three duels.
That's strange, Lucien thought.
Not Aren's strength.
Not his victories.
But his decision-making.
He fights like someone who's already lost once, Lucien realized. Someone who refuses to repeat it.
Lucien's gaze sharpened.
For the first time, he committed Aren Valerius Arcanveil's name to memory.
Aftermath
Aren left the arena slower than before.
Not limping—but heavy.
Fatigue pressed in layers now.
Muscle soreness.
Mana depletion.
Mental strain.
Still—
He was standing.
The system descended with unmistakable weight.
[World Convergence System]
Event Resolution: Consecutive Duel Victory
Opponent: Darius Volken (Rank 129)
Method: Momentum Redirection
Combat Density: High
Performance Summary:
- Physical Endurance: Tested
- Tactical Adaptation: Excellent
- Risk Exposure: Elevated
Stat Growth Applied:
- Strength: +1
- Battle Instinct: +1
The full panel unfolded.
[World Convergence System]
Name: Aren Valerius Arcanveil
Title: Canon-Dead Extra | Attrition Survivor
Affiliation: House Arcanveil
Path:
- Magic Cultivation
- Sword Cultivation
Realm:
- Magic: Apprentice Mage (Late)
- Sword: Sword Trainee (Peak → Bottleneck)
Attributes:
- Strength: 17 (+1)
- Speed: 16
- Stamina: 17
- Vitality: 17
- Mana: 20
- Mental Focus: 20
Combat Stats:
- Physical Power: B-
- Mana Control: B-
- Sword Mastery: B-
- Battle Instinct: B+
Skills:
- Dual Path Sovereignty (Authority · Passive)
- Mana Flow Regulation (Passive)
- Foundation Sword Forms (Advanced)
Plot Metrics:
- Plot Engagement: 29% (+4%)
- Rival Nodes: 7 (Active)
- Fate Attention: Watching
Condition:
- Internal Bruising (Minor)
- Mana Reserve: 41%
- Mental Fatigue: Moderate
System Evaluation:
- Status: Sustained Pressure
- Growth Quality: Very High
- Warning: Recovery Required
Aren dismissed the panel slowly.
They'll keep coming, he thought. Until I break—or until the academy decides I belong.
He straightened his back and continued walking.
Because stopping—
That was how extras disappeared.