The final match is here
The air in the arena is a thick, electric soup of anticipation.
The crowd’s low, rumbling murmur feels like a physical presence, a vibration that hums in Carter’s bones.
He stands on the sandy arena floor. The dull, persistent throb behind his eyes is a grim counterpoint to the roaring energy of the coliseum.
Paige’s healing fruit has taken the edge off the Dissonance, but he can feel it lurking just beneath the surface, like a coiled snake waiting to strike.
He knows it won’t be enough. Not against Akira.
Across the field, Akira stands, a picture of cold, focused intensity.
His usual arrogant smirk is gone. It is replaced by a mask of filial piety and desperate, burning determination.
Then, a new figure emerges from the central tunnel. He takes a seat in the front row of the viewing platform, next to Gabriel.
He is a man of immense presence. His posture is as straight and unyielding as the blade he is famous for.
He wears simple, traditional Japanese robes. His face is a stern, unreadable mask. His eyes are sharp and analytical.
It is Akio Kendo, the Regional Director for Japan. He is a living legend and the world’s greatest swordmaster.
A wave of hushed, reverent whispers ripples through the crowd.
Gabriel’s voice booms across the arena, making a formal note of welcome in his serene, melodic tone.
“Let us offer a warm welcome to our late and honored guest, Director Akio Kendo, who has graced us with his presence for this final match.”
The crowd claps, as Akio gives a single almost imperceptible nod to his son. His gaze is fixed solely on Akira, causing Akira’s jaw to tighten.
The weight of his father’s expectation is a tangible, crushing force. For Akira, he CAN’T just win, he must be perfect, he must crush Carter.
In the waiting room, the other recruits are on the edge of their seats.
“This is it,” Nico says, his voice a hushed whisper. “I wonder who will win.”
“Carter looks like he’s in rough shape,” Paige notes. Her voice is laced with clinical concern.
“His body can’t have fully recovered. He’s at a severe disadvantage here.”
“He will be fine,” Yula says. His voice is a low confident rumble. His eyes are filled with a warrior’s passion.
“He is strong and he will endure.”
The gong sounds a deep, mournful echo that signals the start of the final battle.
“GONNNNG! BEGIN!
The crowd roars a single, unified wave of sound and fury.
Carter and Akira face each other. Fifty feet of sun drenched arena stone floor lies between them.
The prodigy, burdened by the weight of his legacy.
The anomaly, burdened by the weight of his own terrible power.
The battle begins.
The gong’s echo is still fading as Akira moves. He doesn’t charge. He doesn’t cast a grand, explosive spell. He attacks with the cold, brutal efficiency of a master swordsman.
He raises the tip of his katana. The blade is a blur of motion. He unleashes a relentless barrage of attacks. An speaks a powerful familiar command…
“AKIMARU! PIERCING WIND!”
- Spell Tag On Grimoire: Akimaru + Piercing Wind{風の弾丸}
- Phonetic: Akimaru (Grimoire name) + Kaze no dangan (base)
- Japanese Base Spell Translation: “Bullet of wind”
Invisible razor sharp blades of compressed wind screams across the sand colored stone floor. They are not the wide, arching slashes Keyona produced.
They are small, precise, and lethally fast. Like a storm of invisible bullets.
Carter reacts on pure instinct. He raises his left arm with the chain of Archer whipping like a silver blur.
He whips it in a defensive figure eight pattern, as he parries the first few wind blades.
The impacts are a series of sharp cracking sounds as the invisible wind projectiles are deflected.
But Akira’s assault is overwhelming, it is a relentless overlapping invisible peircing wind attacks.
It gives Carter no time to breathe. No time to think.
One of the invisible blades slips past his defense, clipping his left shoulder. The force of the impact feels like a physical blow.
The cutting edge of the wind slices through his gray training shirt and deep into the shoulder muscle beneath.
A sharp, searing pain erupts in his shoulder. It is nothing compared to the agony that explodes in his mind. The Dissonance which had been a dull manageable throb, now begins to spike violently.
“Got damn that has to hurt like hell.” Miguel says to Killian.
A wave of pure unadulterated pain crashes over him. It feels like a hot, jagged spike being driven into his skull
Carter stumbles, with a pained grunt escaping his lips, and his vision swimming with black spots.
He looks down at his arm. Blood is now soaking through the dark gray fabric of his shirt.
And he sees them. Faint, dark, ugly lines, like veins filled with black ink, are beginning to crawl up his neck and across his face.
It is the clear terrifying sign of a Level 4 Dissonance.
He is losing control.
He is losing the fight.
In the viewing stands Ruby lets out a small sharp gasp. Her hand flies to her mouth.
“They need to stop this, he’s in serious trouble!” she whispers to Killian. Her voice is tight with a desperate, helpless fear.
“The backlash is clearly getting to him. He can’t keep this up.”
Down on the field, Akira sees the blackened veins, the flicker of pain in Carter’s eyes. He sees his opening.
“Is that all you’ve got, anomaly?” he sneers. “I thought you were supposed to be a threat.”
He raises his katana, preparing for the final blow.
Carter is about to collapse. The pain in his head roars. The world is a blurry, tilting mess of sandy stone and blue sky. He can feel his consciousness slipping, the Dissonance is a cold poison spreading through his mind.
He is going to lose.
Defeated by the very power that was supposed to be his greatest gift.
But…
His spirit will not let that happen.
He looks at Akira, at the triumphant smirk on his face. He looks up at the viewing stands, at the stern, unimpressed face of Akio Kendo.
And he makes a choice.
He will not be defeated by pain. He will not be a disappointment. He will win.
No matter the cost.
With a raw cry of pain and fierce determination, he does something insane…
Something unthinkable…
Raising his left hand, the one wearing the leather gauntlet of Archer, he takes the white unicorn horn blade of the chain dagger.
And plunges it deep into his own thigh.
A collective, horrified gasp erupts from the thousands of spectators.
The recruits in the waiting room leap to their feet, their faces a mask of pure shock.
Everyone stands as he stabs himself. Akira stops for moment, attempting to comprehend what he is seeing.
“What the hell is he doing?!” Killian shouts.
Akira’s assault stops cold. He stares, his katana frozen in midair, his mind struggling to process what he just witnessed.
Is he insane?!
He stabbed himself… with his own weapon!
But in the front row of the viewing stands, Damien and Agamor understand completely
“The blade is made from unicorn horn,” Damien says, his voice a low, analytical murmur.
A flicker of respect in his steel gray eyes.
“Of course. Unicorn horn is known purifying… And HEALING properties… he is not just healing the wound. He is cleansing the spiritual damage of the Dissonance itself.”
A pure white light comes from the wound in Carter’s thigh. So intense it forces everyone to look away.
The blackened veins that crawled up his neck and across his face recede instantly, vanishing as if they were never there. The deep, bleeding gash on his shoulder knits itself closed in seconds.
And the agonizing pain in his head… it vanishes. Replaced by a clean, sharp, silent clarity.
He pulls the blade from his leg. The wound is already healed, leaving no scar.
Standing up, his body is no longer trembling, his gaze no longer clouded by pain.
He is whole again. He is ready.
Akio Kendo, who watched the entire exchange with a stern face, now leans forward. His analytical eyes are wide with shocked respect.
The boy has the heart of a samurai, he thinks, his mind a storm of awe and disbelief.
To choose the pain of the blades healing properties over the dishonor of defeat… to sacrifice his own flesh for a chance at victory…
Incredible.
Akira sees the look on his father’s face. A new, sharp sting of jealousy cuts through his shock.
But watching Carter rise, his power now clear and stable, he understands.
A purification spell? he thinks, his mind racing to catch up.
That blade can heal? Clever… you crazy bastard.
Carter uses the moment of shocked silence. His mind is clear, his body whole. For the first time, he is on an even footing with the prodigy.
He doesn’t wait for Akira to recover. He attacks.
He vanishes. His thought based teleportation is now instant and effortless. Temporarily free from the agonizing price of Dissonance.
Reappearing directly behind Akira, the chain of Archer is already a silver blur in his hand. The blade hisses through the air, wreathed in the dark flames of his Devour spell.
“ARCHER! DEVOUR!”
- Spell Tag On Grimoire: Archer + Devour{Цохих болгондоо байг минь залгидаг харанхуйн дөл}
- Phonetic: Archer (Grimoire Name) + Tsokhikh bolgondoo baig mini zalgidag kharankhuin döl (base)
- Mongolian Base Spell Translation: “Flames of darkness which devour my target with every strike”
But Akira is a prodigy for a reason. His senses scream a warning.
He doesn’t have time to turn. He doesn’t have time to block.
He simply… disappears.
With a flicker of distorted space, a near perfect imitation of Carter’s own, Akira teleports.
“AKIMARU! FLASH!
- Spell Tag On Grimoire: Akimaru + Flash{将我的身体传送到我的眼睛或心灵所渴望的地方}
- Phonetic: Akimaru (Grimoire Name) + Jiāng wǒ de shēntǐ chuánsòng dào wǒ de yǎnjīng huò xīnlíng suǒ kěwàng dì dìfāng (base)
- Chinese Base Spell Translation: “Transport my body to wherever my eyes or heart desires”
Reappearing a safe distance away, his face a mask of focused fury.
Carter stunned as Akira uses the same Chinese teleportation spell. Engraved on his grimoire Akimaru, no where with the same proficiency as Carter, but enough.
The true battle begins.
It is a duel of teleporting ghosts, a high speed war almost too fast for the naked eye to follow.
They are a blur of motion, appearing and disappearing in flashes of warped space. Their blades clashing in violent bursts of silver sparks and black fire.
“AKIMARU! FLASH!
“AKIMARU! FLASH!
“AKIMARU! FLASH!
“AKIMARU! FLASH!
Akira, repats as he dodges and slashes Carter’s thought based telportation attacks.
The arena floor becomes a mess of scorch marks, craters, and the angry gashes of their missed blows.
In the viewing stands, Miguel is on his feet, his voice a disbelieving roar.
“He can use it too?! How is that possible?!”
“His grimoire has a spell engraved on it, and Akira has studied the language,” Damien explains, his voice a calm, analytical counterpoint to the chaos on the field.
“Carter is using the same or similar spell through thought based casting.”
“He doesn’t have the instinct for it like Carter. But his raw, natural talent allows him to use the spell efficiently.”
Down on the field, Carter feels the tide of the battle turning.
He is fast, powerful, but Akira is… better.
His movements are more precise. His strikes more efficient.
Akira has been doing this his entire life. Carter has been doing it for seven months.
He knows he can’t win a duel of blades.
He needs to end this. Now.
Teleporting in close, not to attack with Archer, but to throw a powerful punch with his left hand.
“ATLAS! EVISCERATE!”
- Spell Tag On Grimoire: Atlas + Eviscerate{Shatter my target into its smallest form + 散布剩余的颗粒}
- Phonetic: Atlas (Grimoire Name) + Shatter my target into its smallest form (base) + Sànbù shèngyú de kēlì (effect)
- English Base Spell Translation: “Shatter my target into its smallest form”
- Chinese Effect Spell Translation: “Spread the remaining particles”
He aims for Akira’s katana, the source of his power.
“Useless!” Akira shouts, a triumphant grin on his face.
A shimmering shield of pure white energy materializes around his blade, a defensive spell inscribed on the weapon years ago.
“My grimoire is forged from Vastian Steel!”
The matter destroying power of Atlas strikes the shield and vanishes, the two magics canceling each other out in a brilliant, silent flash of light.
The failed spell leaves Carter open for a fraction of a second.
It is all the time Akira needs.
He is not just a mage. He is a warrior. Waiting for this exact moment.
Studying Carter’s movements, his timing, the subtle tells of his teleportation.
He knows with absolute certainty where Carter will reappear after his next jump.
Carter teleports, mind focused on his next attack.
And materializes directly into Akira’s perfectly timed, non magical pommel strike.
The heavy, steel hilt of the katana slams into his temple with brutal force.
Carter’s vision explodes in a flash of white light.
The sounds of the crowd, the smell of ozone, the feeling of the grimoires on his hands. It all vanishes. Replaced by a deep, empty silence.
He collapses to the sandy stone, unconscious before he hits the ground.
Akira stands over him, chest heaving, body bruised and aching, but his stance is unbroken.
He is victorious. He has proven his point.
Straw dummies don’t hit back.
Gabriel’s voice booms across the arena, a sound from a million miles away.
“The battle is over! The winner of the final aptitude test is Akira Kendo!”
The crowd erupts in a deafening roar for the victorious prodigy.
“YEAAAAHHHHHHH!!!”
High in the stands, Akio Kendo allows himself a single, slight nod of approval for his triumphant son.