A massive red beam of energy shot across the battlefield, cutting through everything in its way. It was like a giant sword made of pure destruction, burning everything it touched. The ground shook violently as the attack roared forward, tearing through stone, earth, and even the air itself. The battlefield, once filled with scattered ruins and broken pillars, now became a place of fire and chaos. The blast left behind a deep, glowing trench where the earth had been ripped apart. Oliver barely had a second to react. [Final Burst: 5 seconds remaining.] His heart pounded. His muscles tensed. Move! He didn't think—his body moved on its own. With a desperate twist, he threw himself to the side, barely avoiding the beam. But he wasn’t fast enough. The searing heat passed dangerously close, brushing against his arm. His sleeve melted away instantly, turning into nothing but ash. His skin burned, sharp pain shooting through him. BOOOOOM! The explosion from the impact sent a

His golden aura flickered like the last sputtering flame of a dying star. Only the echoes of devastation remained in the air, the land beyond recognition in scars. Altogether, an acrid stench of scorched earth interlaced with burnt metal assailed his nostrils; clouds of smoke twisted lazily above, tainting the air with blood that tasted of iron. His breath was shallow, weighed down by exhaustion, yet still he stood tall. Then applause kicked in— Clap. Clap. Clap. Hesitant at first, one set two, which summoned a dozen others. In no time, it burst into an all-encompassing roar and thunderous applause. Cheers erupted while the surviving cohort combined their voices into a din. Thunderous stomping rattled the ground. All students. All teachers. Even those who had withheld their approval earlier were on their feet, applauding, cheering, chanting the name of one man: "Oliver! Oliver! Oliver!" He turned his head slightly to survey the area. The same students who had once cursed him

Oliver turned to glance back at Iris, who was still leaning on the wall. Her knees were shaking. He had wanted to tell her that it was over and that they were safe. But the crawling discomfort upon his lower spine otherwise said no. He could still feel the system notification in his mind, echoing the words as some kind of threat: Severe Penalty. It hadn't mentioned what this might entail, and he didn't want to find out. "Iris," he said nearer to her. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head, still dazed. "N-no... just scared." He nodded, struggling to breathe. "We ought to get out of here. They might come back." A chilled breeze howled down the alley toward him, making him shiver. His eyes darted to the assassins on the ground—two still out cold, the others long gone. He felt a tingling sensation in his hands, a remnant of controversy, and his heart was pounding furiously. He grabbed her hand. "We can't stay here. Let's go." "But where?" she said, her voice taut with terror.

Oliver’s head pounded like war drums, each breath scraping his lungs raw. He tried to move, but his body felt glued to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. Damn it... He couldn’t just lie here. Not while Iris was in danger. Scar Jaw’s twisted grin lingered in his mind—the way his eyes had lit up the moment Iris’s power flared to life. That monster saw her as something precious, something worth tearing apart just to see what made her tick. Rage welled up within Oliver, but it was drowned out by helplessness. His muscles refused to respond—Combat Mastery was burning out, leaving him with nothing but pain and fading adrenaline. He strained to turn his head, just enough to see through the blur. Scar Jaw circled Iris like a wolf sizing up a cornered rabbit, his movements lazy, almost bored. Iris trembled, her hands still glowing faintly with that pale light, but terror swallowed her whole. “I didn’t expect a little bird like you to pack that kind of punch,” Scar Jaw sneered, his vo

Oliver opened her eyes and stared straight ahead, slowly beginning to realize that he had been trampled with a wild iron stampede. Every muscle in his body screamed with fluctuating pain. The worst spots were his arms and chest, which felt as if he had been trying to lift something which was way beyond heavy and now were torn and bruised.Slowing his eyelids as they felt heavy, more stubborn than lead, he finally managed to suck them apart. All opened up was just black. It was black and thick, as though black mud were clinging to his body. Everything looked like water from under-the-water, but even with his eyes open, it looked blurry.He realized he was lying on some hard and uneven surface making painful pressure against his back and sides. Wood, he guessed. The hard, rough-scratchy feeling rubbed against his torn clothes. The air was gross. It was thick with the smell of dust and something that had rotted, like damp old wood left to decay. But there was something else mixed in with