Kalem watched the battlefield unfold like a living experiment—one of his own design.
The artificial biomes had collapsed into each other, creating an unpredictable, unstable battleground where only the strongest or the most adaptable could persist. He observed with an analytical gaze, watching the different reactions of the competitors.
Some had panicked, wasting their energy against the unrelenting forces of nature.
Some had adapted, bending their strategies to match the sudden shifts.
And others had disappeared entirely, swallowed by the storm.
But now, it was time to end it.
Kalem exhaled, his breath visible in the still-hovering chill. He placed his palm on one of the rune markings he had etched into the ground earlier, feeling the circuit still pulsing with power.
"I let it go too far."
Not that he minded. It had given him plenty of insight, but he wasn't here to burn the entire system down—just to test its limitations.
He tapped into the energy flow, guiding it back toward the Focus Core in his chest plate, allowing it to siphon off excess mana.
The results were immediate.
The sandstorm that had been ripping through the desert biome slowed.
The ice storm that had turned the tundra into a frozen tomb weakened.
The blazing winds from the volcanic region settled into a dull heat.
Kalem smirked.
The battlefield was still chaotic, but now it was manageable. He had pulled back just enough to keep observing without completely breaking the system.
"There. That should keep them on their toes."
The Council's Panic
Meanwhile, inside the observation hall, the academy's officials were in chaos.
The storm had lasted too long. The damage had gone beyond what was acceptable.
"This is out of control! We have to shut it down immediately!" one of the senior enchanters shouted, slamming his hands on the table.
"We can't!" another argued. "The circuits are locked from the inside! That boy—Kalem—is acting as the focal point. We can't override his input!"
"Then forcefully remove him from the equation!"
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
They couldn't.
Everyone slowly turned toward Headmaster Valdris, who had been sipping his tea calmly as the room descended into chaos.
"Headmaster, we must—"
Valdris raised a single finger.
Everyone fell silent.
The Headmaster set his cup down, looking at the projected battlefield on the screen. His keen violet eyes flickered with interest as he observed Kalem's handiwork.
"…Intriguing."
He exhaled.
"This boy's understanding of rune circuits is far beyond what I expected."
"Sir, we—"
"Enough," Valdris interrupted, his tone final. "I've seen enough."
He waved his hand.
"Shut it down."
The officials hesitated for a moment.
"You heard me."
They scrambled into action.
A low hum echoed across the battlefield.
Kalem immediately noticed it.
"Ah. They're finally pulling the plug."
The rune circuits that upheld the artificial biomes began shutting down systematically. The skies cleared. The unnatural storms dissipated. The mana retracted into the ground, stabilizing the terrain.
Across the battlefield, competitors staggered in exhaustion.
Some collapsed where they stood.
Others warily checked their surroundings, still expecting danger.
A few simply looked up at the sky, realizing that the nightmare was over.
Then—
A bell rang.
A voice boomed across the arena.
"THE SECOND ROUND IS OVER!"
Kalem sighed, rolling his shoulders.
"Shame," he muttered. "I had a few more things to test."
He glanced at his journal, flipping through his notes.
The circuit network was far more delicate than expected. Biome stability could be manipulated with enough control. Competitors react differently to sudden environmental shifts.
"Useful information."
He closed the book and tucked it away.
As he stood, he noticed movement in the distance.
Jhaeros and Nara, still catching their breath, were staring at him.
Even from far away, he could tell they were thinking the same thing.
"That was definitely Kalem's fault."
Kalem grinned.
As the competitors regrouped, the battlefield was no longer an arena for battle—it was a graveyard of the fallen.
The medics rushed in, pulling out those who could no longer stand.
Bodies of competitors who had collapsed from exhaustion were carried off the field. Some had frostbite, others burn wounds, and more than a few had been buried in the sand before being pulled out.
It was a testament to Kalem's "adjustments."
Yet, despite the destruction, more than half the competitors had survived.
The officials, however, were not pleased.
Kalem had disrupted their system.
He had rewritten their rules.
And worst of all—
He had done it effortlessly.
But the Headmaster?
He was amused.
Valdris watched the competitors limping off the battlefield.
He glanced at Kalem's figure in the distance, still relaxed, as if this had just been another day of casual study.
He smirked.
"That boy is dangerous."
But in his eyes, that wasn't a bad thing.
It just meant Kalem was interesting.
And Valdris had plans for interesting students.