Both Sylas and Syrna blinked, going quiet at the announcement. They stared at Magnus for a moment before Syrna turned to her brother.
"Maybe we've been training too hard lately... Did I just hallucinate Cain saying he wants to have a match with us?" Her voice was so full of disbelief that even Magnus paused for a second before answering.
"I did. What, haven't you two wanted a rematch with me for a while?"
"Of course we have! But you've turned us down every time," Syrna said, exaggeratingly.
Sylas added, "And it's not just that—you've gotten stronger since our first fight with you. At first, we thought we could beat you. But after watching you in the Live Examination, it's more about testing ourselves now."
Win or lose, the twins didn't dwell too much on the outcome. What mattered was whether the challenge could push them forward. If it did, they'd take it on—even if it felt like climbing a vertical cliff with no gear. The effort alone was worth it, especially for knights, whose strength relied just as much on mindset as their physical body.
"Yeah, we figured you wouldn't agree since you'd get nothing out of it," Syrna admitted with a shrug. But despite her words, a grin pulled at her lips, and her eyes sparked with excitement. Why? Because clearly, she and her brother had been wrong, Magnus had come to fight.
"Cain? I didn't know you were back at the academy. What are you doing here?" The voice was familiar. Magnus—still in disguise as Cain—turned and saw Reimun. It took a moment for Magnus to place his appearance. During their match in that desert-like Alternate Space, Reimun had stayed cloaked and fought mostly from a distance or while hidden. Even at the end, Magnus hadn't gotten a clear look at his face. Now, he saw those same sharp, hawk-like, ressigh-brown eyes that had helped Reimun control the first half of their fight.
He had dark brown hair, kept fairly neat, and looked a few years older than Magnus—nineteen or twenty, right at the academy's age limit.
"I'm here to duel. Shouldn't I be asking you the same? With your style, I didn't expect you to be interested in one-on-ones out in the open," Magnus replied.
Reimun nodded before responding.
"You're right. I'm not great at head-on fighting. But I still like coming down here when I can—to watch the matches, study different aura styles and spells, see how people fight." Magnus gave a small nod, thinking, Ah, that tracks.
He does seem like the type to spend his free time learning how others fight. The only way to get better at reading people is to practice. And judging by how well he read my movements in our match, he's probably been doing this for years—watching mages and knights alike. Just another reason he's so dangerous in the right setting.
"Oh, hey Reimun," Syrna greeted, waving casually. But Reimun quickly raised a hand, shaking his head.
"I'll have to pass if you two are about to ask for another match. I can barely keep up with one of you, let alone both." That statement didn't surprise Magnus at all. With how eager the twins were to throw down with anyone strong, of course, they'd targeted Reimun at some point.
"No worries. We've got other plans today. Plus, Luden told us to tone down the faction infighting," Sylas said, standing from his seat.
"Infighting? So, Luden accepted you two into our faction?" Magnus turned back toward Reimun, eyebrows raised under his mask.
Reimun nodded again.
"Yeah. Mostly thanks to your recommendation—and how our match turned out."
"It's not just him," Syrna cut in.
"Jalud joined too. Honestly? He's kind of a jerk, but he's insanely strong. I still can't believe you beat him. Not even Seraline could do that, and we all tried taking a go at him while you were away. He only really listens to Luden, and most of the time, he's holed up in one of those isolation chambers on the fourth floor of the main building." Hearing that, Magnus's expression shifted slightly. The last time he'd seen Jalud was right after the Live Examination, when he'd left him and Luden to talk alone. Before and during the exam itself, Jalud had easily been the strongest person Magnus had fought.
But things had changed since then.
After facing off against Lady Austra, the Nullfang, and even Gerald during their sparring sessions, Magnus had gone up against opponents at or near Master-level. Still, there was something about Jalud. Back when they fought, he was technically only an Apprentice-level mage.
That alone said everything about how powerful he and his family's lineage magic were. Not only was it incredibly versatile and mana-efficient, but the way it manifested made Jalud feel like an Adept-level already.
So he's been training this whole time, huh? For people like him, Luden, and Nithra, hitting the Adept-level is just a matter of time. They're already borderline—Pseudo-Adepts. Their mana cores just need more time to absorb and adapt. But once they do... Jalud's probably going to come out of the gate as strong as a Pseudo-Master, even if none of his aspects technically reach that level.
And Magnus couldn't pretend he wasn't looking forward to that rematch. Because he was certain—once Jalud advanced, he'd come knocking again.
Just then, Reimun spoke up.
"So, you two are going up against Cain? You sure you're ready for that?" The reason for his doubt was clear. But before either twin could respond, Magnus answered for them.
"That's not a problem. I don't plan on using everything I've got. I've made some progress with my magic, so that's all I'll use for this match," Magnus reassured. To most people, that would've sounded like an ordinary statement. Cain was widely known as a mage, so naturally, using magic should be all he could do. But everyone who'd seen him fight knew better. Whatever enhancement spells he used—or whatever they really were—let him trade blows with Apprentice-level knights. Not just survive them, but overpower them and disrupt their aura outright.
To this day, some still call it a lie. Those who hadn't seen it with their own eyes simply couldn't believe it. So, for Magnus to say he'd only be using magic, it was a self-imposed handicap. And a serious one.
He looked over at the twins and asked, "So, should I take your silence as a yes?"
Syrna and Sylas exchanged a single glance, the kind that said everything.
"Of course we're in. We've been waiting for this," Syrna answered without missing a beat.
"This is gonna be interesting," Reimun muttered as he dropped into a seat, clearly planning to stay and watch.
Magnus and the twins began walking toward the stairs that led down to the base level of the Academy Arena. The current match was still underway, and some students were just loitering while waiting for their turn. But as soon as the three of them were spotted, attention shifted fast.
Of course it did.
Right now, Luden's faction was the strongest among the first years. And Cain—one of the only Pseudo-Master-level students in the entire academy—was part of it. Even the Adept-level upperclassmen and their factions were considered weaker. So when someone from Luden's group made a move, everyone watched.
"Wait... is Cain about to fight the twins?" Someone asked, eyes tracking the three as they disappeared into one of the hallway entrances.
"They're in the same faction, but I guess it could happen. Those twins are down here like every other day, trying to pick a fight with someone," another said, this one a Mage Division student sitting nearby.
"Yeah, but there's no way they can beat Cain." No one argued with that. Heads just nodded in agreement.
The Arena's upper seating was filling up faster now. Students who hadn't seen Cain in forever until he suddenly appeared, leaving the library and heading here, along with others who'd just heard the rumors, were crowding in, ready to watch. As a result, once the two Apprentice-level mages finished their match, which ended in a draw, no one else stood up to take the field. The interest had already shifted. After the professor overseeing today's duels sent the two Mage Division students off, telling them to go to the infirmary if they were too badly injured, Magnus and the twins stepped onto the arena.
They walked toward the professor, a woman who looked to be in her late sixties, maybe early seventies. Despite her age, she was a Master-level. Her sharp gaze and movements held more precision—and likely more power—than most younger mages.
The moment her eyes landed on Cain, recognition flickered. She knew who he really was.
So that's the boy we were told to watch? The one under Eveline's wing? I didn't expect to see him here, of all places. I ended up skipping the last Live Examination. Thought it'd be the usual show of mid-level talent, but then I heard rumors—talk of a Pseudo-Master, among other geniuses. I suppose now I'll get to see for myself.
"Professor Ithra, we'd like to request a match," Syrna called out, voice carrying a clear eagerness.
"The two of us versus Cain." As they spoke, both twins had already drawn their weapons—not the carved wooden ones they used in their first match against Cain, but the real things. Metal-forged, combat-ready. Sylas carried a large, crescent-shaped blade longer than his torso, while Syrna held two smaller curved blades—still sizable, each just a bit smaller than her own head. Their fingers curled around the handles with practiced ease.
Ithra gave a small nod.
"As long as all of you agree, a two-on-one is acceptable. You'll have fifteen minutes. If no winner is decided by then, it'll be declared a draw. Now—what rules are we setting?"
"Let's keep it simple," Sylas said, turning to Magnus.
"If you're knocked out, can't continue, or surrender, you lose. Any objections?"
Magnus shook his head and answered, "Fine by me."
"Alright then," Ithra said firmly.
"All of you—move to your starting positions."
Magnus and the twins exchanged brief looks before splitting off. Syrna's excitement was impossible to miss. She practically skipped to her side of the field. Sylas, less expressive than his sister, showed his anticipation through the way he gripped his weapon and the intensity in his stare.
Once they reached their spots, Syrna pressed the flat edges of her blades together, producing a sharp, metallic ring followed by a few bright sparks. She crouched low, leaning forward, poised like a coiled spring. In contrast, Sylas took a more relaxed stance, body slightly tilted and swaying, like he was ready to be carried off by the wind.In the center, Ithra looked between the three. Once she confirmed they were ready, she raised her hand, then lowered it after a short pause.
There was no need to yell 'begin.' Instead, she used a mix of wind elementrix and enhancement magic to release a deep, resonant drum-like sound that echoed through the entire Academy Arena.
Then she teleported out of range, and the match officially began.
Two hundred meters. That was the distance between Magnus and the twins, also the close diameter of the entire dirt arena.
For a moment, no one moved.
From the stands above, Reimun leaned forward slightly. His eyes sharpened, locked onto the field below, not willing to miss a single thing.
That's when the twins moved.
It almost felt like a replay of their first match—Syrna charging in first with full aggression, while Sylas flanked just behind her. The distance between them and Magnus barely mattered. An Apprentice-level knight could cross that space in nearly two seconds. But the twins were beyond even that now. Not quite Adept-level, but close enough that their speed pushed the edge of what was considered human, brushing up against the realm of sound.
In a blink, Syrna's high-velocity form blurred into view, closing the gap and swinging her curved blades in a brutal, head-on strike aimed straight at Magnus's chest. With the sheer speed and force behind it, the attack would've sliced through most opponents or at least shattered their bones on contact.
But in that same instant, Magnus reacted. Faster than the swing could connect, mana surged around him. A simple construct—not even a barrier, just a dense wall of compressed mana—materialized in front of him, intercepting her strike.
Like this is stopping me.
The thought barely passed through Syrna's mind before her blade slammed into the wall. She expected it to crack or shatter, or at least give way under the force. It was a construct, not a barrier—only as strong as the amount of mana used and the mana control of the caster.
But the moment her weapon made contact, something felt off. Her momentum didn't just stop—it drained. The force behind her attack vanished in an instant, like it had been pulled straight out of her body. And then, just as fast, that energy slammed back into her, reversed.
Without warning, Syrna was launched backward.
Sylas, watching from Magnus's right side, saw his sister get hurled across the field. She hit the ground hard, bounced once, then twisted mid-air and landed on all fours. Her blades dug into the dirt as her legs tensed, carving deep lines into the arena floor as she forced herself to a stop, a single thought running through her mind matching her expression.
What was that?
The mana wall Magnus had conjured was already breaking apart—dissolving as he released control—but it didn't explain what had just happened. Not to her. Not to the crowd. Most of the spectators were Apprentice-level knights and mages, still far from fully understanding Adept-level techniques. And those who reached Adept-level usually spent their time preparing for the leap to Master, not hanging around the arena or participating in public matches. Outside of formal lessons or occasional professor demonstrations, few would have a chance to grasp even a clue of what they'd just seen.
Except for one: Ithra.
Watching from the sidelines, the Master-level professor narrowed her eyes.
What kind of casting was that? I didn't sense any mana flow from him. But that was definitely a mana construct spell—modified with kinetic properties...
Meanwhile, Magnus tilted his head slightly, interest flickering in his gaze.
So that's what this variation can do. Alright then... what about this?
He turned toward Sylas, who had paused after watching Syrna get knocked back. Without a word, Magnus raised one hand like he was holding something in the air. Slowly, mana began to gather, condensing and swirling in an intricate pattern until it formed a dense, spinning sphere of black and white energy.
"A mana sphere? No... it looks different than that," Sylas muttered, eyes narrowing. He didn't get long to think about it. In the next moment, Magnus tossed the orb of mana into the air. It rose about fifteen meters—completely unaffected by gravity—before coming to a stop, hovering in place.
Then, it shifted.
Two sections of the sphere bulged outward, distorting its perfect shape. From those bulges, spike-like projections erupted—sharp, four-sided lances made entirely of mana. Still connected to the sphere, the spears extended in opposite directions, launching toward Sylas and Syrna at the same time.
Both twins reacted instantly.
Their knight instincts kicked in, forcing them to dodge in opposite directions just before the spears hit. The mana spikes stabbed into the dirt where they'd stood moments earlier, tearing deep into the ground.
"Well, that's new. He's never done anything like that befo-" Syrna's voice cut off. One of the embedded spikes began to bulge, just like the sphere it had come from. Without warning, another spear shot sideways from the existing one, aiming straight at her. Across the field, the same happened to Sylas.
Once again, they dodged.
Sylas stepped back just as the new spike sliced through the air in front of his face. Syrna kicked off the ground, flipping to the right as the second spear cut past her. But they barely caught their breath before the process repeated.
Each time a spear missed, its length bulged and birthed another spike. Like branches off a tree, each attack splits again and again. The original sphere was the trunk. The first set of spears was branches. Every new strike that missed became another branch, and every one of those could split again.
The twins broke into a sprint, high-speed dashes around the arena as more and more spears sprouted from all directions. The entire battlefield began to look like an expanding web of mana—an organic trap growing in real time. The branches didn't move unless provoked. But every time one of the twins dodged, the closest branch to them reacted, sprouting a fresh spear aimed at their new location.
What kind of spell is this? I've never seen anything like it before!
Syrna's thoughts raced as she ducked a spike that shot past her from the right. It had branched from an earlier spear she'd already dodged—and now, that one bulged again. Another protrusion fired toward her head, and she twisted just in time, tilting away from it.
Meanwhile, as the twins focused entirely on dodging, Magnus stood still, eyes locked on the floating sphere above—the source of this endlessly multiplying attack.
I see now. This is the difference. This is what separates the spell variations born from Adept-level modification... from those of the Apprentice-level.