Harper didn't hesitate.
She couldn't hesitate.
The deep cold seeping into the air made her instincts scream to back off, but that wasn't who she was.
She'd fought through worse.
She'd win through this too.
The plasma in her hand crackled, raw and unstable, burning white hot.
She moved.
A sharp pivot around her cover, her arm snapping forward with impossible flexibility, like a catapult she launched the plasma straight at Jace.
This wasn't just heat.
Plasma burned hotter than fire, hotter than most things should be able to withstand.
If his ice had been untouched before, this would be the real test.
But she didn't stop there.
The second the plasma left her hand, Wind magic surged through her legs as she shot forward, angling for a different approach.
She'd force him to react.
Now.
Jace's breath hitched.
Just seeing that ball of pure heat streaking toward him was enough to make sweat bead on his skin.
He knew just by looking at it, this was the single most dangerous spell he had ever faced.
No hesitation. No time to think.
Both hands slammed into the ground.
A three-layer wall erupted to meet the oncoming attack.
The first wall… Stone. Thick, dense, sturdy. But not enough.
The impact was violent.
The plasma struck, and the surface superheated on contact.
Jagged, molten cracks ripped through the stone, spreading like wildfire.
The wall only held for a second—then exploded in a violent mess of dust and molten debris.
The second wall… Water.
For a split second, Harper thought it might work.
The liquid barrier sizzled, shrieking as it absorbed the worst of the heat. A thick, blinding cloud of steam exploded outward, the superheated water desperate for an escape.
And then...
The third wall.
Ice.
Deep, eerie blue.
Standing firm.
Defying the plasma.
Everyone held their breath.
Plasma magic was rare, the number of people who had actually witnessed it in action, let alone fought against it, was slim.
But this ice, this was an anomaly.
No one knew what would happen next.
Plasma.
Heat incarnate. Unstable, volatile, relentless.
But whatever Jace had wrapped himself in…
That wasn't normal ice.
It wasn't just cold.
It was something else.
The two forces collided.
A deafening hiss split the air as plasma met ice, the sheer clash of energy sending vibrations through the battlefield. Fissures spiderwebbed across the ice's surface, jagged and deep.
But… It didn't break.
Harper's eyes narrowed.
Through the storm of mist and steam, Jace's figure barely remained visible.
Fine. If her plasma couldn't reach him… She would.
Wind roared beneath her feet as she launched forward, vaulting over the wreckage of her failed attack and Jace's crumbling walls.
A massive wooden lance formed in her grasp, hardened, reinforced, unyielding.
Her target: Jace's chest.
"Let's see how that ice holds up to this."
She thrust forward, the steam curling against her skin, the residual heat leaving faint burns across her arms.
Jace's eyes went wide.
His instincts, his predictions… failed him.
He grit his teeth. Injuries weren't possible in these fights, but pain?
Pain was very real.
The lance barely slowed as it struck the ice around his body. The weakened layer shattered, sending shards spiraling into the air.
The impact slammed into him, full force.
Pain exploded through his ribs.
But. He didn't falter.
His gaze snapped to Harper's, her eyes still burning with the same wild, unbreakable mania that matched his own.
And then… Something clicked.
Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was just refusal to lose.
But his eyes flashed.
And he cast a spell.
Harper's confident grin faltered for the first time.
What?
She saw no new spell forming. Nothing.
But then… Pain.
A sharp, freezing stab of agony exploded from her back.
Her body lurched forward from the force, a sharp gasp escaping her lips.
Something brutally cold had slammed into her, a frozen spike, driven deep into her spine.
The unnatural chill spread too fast for her to react.
Pain, then numbness.
Her eyes widened as realization crashed over her.
She had landed the hit.
She had won that exchange.
So how the hell did she still get struck?
Those watching were unified in their shock.
All except two.
Two who understood exactly what had just happened.
Hannah and Aurora.
Both now standing.
Both frozen in disbelief.
Upstairs, in the teacher's lounge, Lord Severian sat before a screen.
Behind him, in the shadows, stood the familiar watchful presence.
The monitors were all set to a single training arena.
Building Three. Arena Forty-One.
"I told you that boy was something special," Severian said, his tone unreadable.
For once, he was actually leaning forward in his chair, hands clasped in front of his mouth, thumbs bracing his chin.
A pause.
The voice behind him finally spoke.
"…Are you trying to tell me you expected this, sir?"
Disbelief was evident.
Severian shook his head. "Honestly? No." A rare admission.
"Not this fast."
He leaned back, fingers tapping idly against the armrest.
"Maybe by the end of the year. Halfway into the year at best." His eyes flicked back to the screen. "But within the first month?"
He exhaled.
"I didn't think it was possible."
Silence.
Then, after a moment, the voice behind him spoke again.
"…Are you really going to keep using him to push the nobles, sir?" A pause. Then, quieter, more cautious.
"What if he actually beats them?"
Severian didn't hesitate.
"If he beats them…" He poured himself a drink, swirling the liquid absently.
"Then he beats them."
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"The strong deserve to be strong, Ulric."
His gaze never left the screen.
"And a first-year student who can use adaptive magic…"
His eyes flickered.
"Even if he only does it once."
He took a sip.
"…Is strong."