The combat field blazed beneath the enchantment dome. A crowd of students and instructors filled the perimeter, eyes fixed on the duel platform where magic shimmered in the air.
The first phase of the final exam — Swordship Selection — had begun.
Matches came and went. Some blades clashed with beauty, others with brutality. A few fights ended in moments. Some dragged on with desperate screams and shattered pride.
Now… it was her turn.
Sayaka.
A voice called her name.
She stepped forward.
And across the field stood a girl — tall, confident, sneering — a third-year with streaks of fire running through her blade and arrogance carved into every step.
"Ah. You're the manaless rat everyone talks about," the senior girl said, twirling her glowing weapon. "Guess I get to clean up the academy's garbage today."
Sayaka said nothing.
She walked calmly to her position, her fingers tightening around the hilt of Dragon's Breath.
I know she's stronger. She's a senior. She has mana. But… I didn't come this far to back down now.
The whistle blew.
The fight began.
The senior dashed in first — her sword crackling with fire. Sayaka parried — barely. Sparks flew. Heat burned her sleeves.
She stepped back, deflected left — tripped, rolled. Every move she made was reactive.
Too fast.
She's using mana to boost her sword's weight and speed. Mine's just… heavy. Damn heavy.
"Still standing?" her opponent smirked. "How about I change that?"
She spun and delivered a powerful slash — too fast.
Sayaka raised her blade just in time — but the force sent her flying. She skidded across the ground, coughing, dirt in her mouth.
She struggled to stand.
The crowd murmured.
No… Not here. Not now.
Another Fury of slashes. some barely dodged and some hit. This time—
Blood.
It danced through the air like petals in the wind, painting her forearm crimson. Her blade dropped to the side.
"Give up," the senior spat. "That sword doesn't belong to trash like you."
Sayaka collapsed to one knee, breathing ragged, vision spinning.
The referee raised a hand.
"Sayaka of Class 1-A is—"
And then—
A voice.
"...Arise, you fool. Is this what I teach you. Use Temporary Resonance."
It was soft.
Cold.
So quiet, it could've been her imagination.
But she knew that voice.
Dev…?
Her eyes opened, and through the blur of light and dust—
He stood at the edge of the crowd.
Still.
Expression unreadable.
Watching.
Sayaka bit her lip. The metallic taste of her own blood filled her mouth.
I'm not done.
Not yet.
She rose — slowly, painfully. Her knees trembled, but her eyes burned.
"I… won't lose, you DAMN senior!"
She raised her sword. And said some chant "Temporary Resonance".
And then—
It responded.
FLARE.
The blade screamed with a low hum, its edges glowing deep crimson, veins of light surging from the hilt like living fire.
The ground beneath her cracked.
The crowd gasped.
"No way—" someone muttered. "She… awakened a Spiritual Blade?!"
"But… she has no mana!"
Even her opponent froze, instinctively stepping back.
Sayaka didn't wait.
Her body moved before her thoughts.
The sword glowed brighter, heat rippling through the air like a pulse with a black swirling aura.
"DRAGON METEOR SLASHHHH!!"
She charged — feet pounding the stone, blade trailing red light like a falling star.
She struck—
A deafening crack erupted.
Her opponent's sword shattered on impact, the explosion of force throwing the girl back, her armor splitting with the shock.
Silence.
Utter silence.
The referee stood stunned.
Sayaka dropped to one knee, panting — her sword dimming once more.
Did I… win?
Her eyes drifted to the edge of the arena.
Dev hadn't moved.
But this time—
He was smiling.
Just slightly.