I reign supreme in the Western fantasy world for eternity.

On the training ground, the two challengers were already in position.

Hollen von Kleist stood on the left side of the field, with short silver-gray hair, sharp features, and a well-tailored dark blue academy robe with a black eagle emblem of the Kleist family pinned to the collar.

He stood tall and straight, his gaze calm as he looked across at the other side.

His family had been operating in the Western Regions for centuries, producing three legion commanders and holding a high position in the kingdom's military.

Hollen grew up in a military camp, and by the age of twelve he could ride a horse and charge into battle with a sword, and at fourteen he had hunted down a rock spider on his own. His magical talent was equally outstanding, and within two years of entering school he was recognized as the strongest in his grade.

The person opposite him, however, had a completely different style.

Luke stood on the right side of the field, relaxed. He wore an old, faded courtyard robe with frayed cuffs and a wide-open collar, revealing a section of his tanned neck.

His brown hair was sticking out in a messy, frizzy mess, and he had a sleepy look on his face, making him look like a lazybones who had just been dragged out of bed.

But the older students in the stands erupted in cheers the moment they saw him.

"Luke! Luke! Luke!" The unified shouts erupted from the right-hand stands, the sound almost completely drowning out the cheers from the younger students on the opposite side.

The referee's voice, amplified by magic, echoed throughout the arena: "The match begins!"

Hollen nodded slightly, and a cluster of orange-red flames condensed at the tip of his right finger. The temperature was so high that even the air began to distort.

Luke lazily raised his hands and released magic. A sticky, oily substance with an eerie sheen gushed from his palms and splashed all over Hollen.

"Grease magic! This is a first-class application of cleaning magic!" someone in the stands exclaimed.

"He used this move five years ago! No wonder Luke is such a bastard!"

Hollen's expression changed slightly, and he retreated rapidly. At the same time, he waved his right hand, and a wall of fire exploded in front of him, attempting to ignite the lump of oil.

The oil ignited upon contact with fire, instantly turning into a sea of ​​flames. However, the fire did not spread towards Luke—the oil had already covered the ground beneath Hollen's feet before it was ignited.

Hollen slipped, his body jerked backward, barely managing to regain his balance, but he was already a beat too slow.

Luke's figure swept past the edge of the sea of ​​fire, his shoes already covered with a thin layer of ice crystals, gliding across the oily noodles with ease.

An upperclassman excitedly explained to the new students, "Ice Glide! Luke's signature combo from five years ago! Oily technique for crowd control, Ice Glide for close combat, and then—"

Before he could finish speaking, Luke had already appeared behind Hollen and unleashed another Thousand Years of Death!

A faint electric current surged from his fingertips, and Hollen's body stiffened abruptly, his legs went weak, and he collapsed to his knees on the greasy surface.

His robes were stained with oil, and a sticky substance clung to his hair—splattered from when Luke had just poured the oil.

The stands were filled with uproar among the new students.

"What... what kind of magic is this?!"

"This is utterly despicable! It's an insult to civility!"

"Referee! He fouled!"

The referee shook his head expressionlessly: "The 'Greasy Spell' is a variant of water magic, falling under the category of legal magic. As for the next move... it was indeed despicable, but still within the bounds of the law. The match continues."

"What kind of magic is this?!" The freshmen in the stands erupted in an uproar.

A girl with pigtails covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. "Using greasy cleaning techniques, ice-based gliding techniques... and that... that... it's disgusting!"

The boy next to him adjusted his glasses, his expression complex: "It's said that the 'Unrestricted Free Magic Fighting Tournament' has a long history. As long as magic is used on the field, it's not considered a violation."

"Yeah, yeah," someone chimed in. "It's said that one of our deans, Ren, only used Holy Light during the Outer Court Challenge and relied entirely on his fighting skills to throw his opponents out of the arena one by one, managing to break through the Outer Court."

"But the dean was acting openly and honestly! Luke, this..." The girl couldn't finish her sentence.

On the field, Hollen climbed out of the oil slick, veins bulging on his forehead. He had never seen such a shameless style of play and was momentarily stunned.

He had watched the matches in the previous two years and he already had countermeasures for the opponent's spells such as "Expelliarmus" and "Expelliarmus Belt". However, he never expected that the opponent would change his tactics.

He no longer cared about his sticky and disheveled state, and simultaneously gathered fire element in both hands, preparing to unleash a wide-area explosion spell.

Luke stood at a distance, holding a tiny ice crystal between his fingers. Instead of attacking, he grinned at Hollen.

"Young Master of the Clyster family, can you feel it? Is there a slight... bloating on the left side of your abdomen, three fingers below your navel?"

Hollen's expression changed drastically. He could indeed feel an indescribable surge brewing in his abdomen. "What did you do to me?!"

Luke tossed the ice crystal in his hand. "I just added a little of my newly developed... digestion-enhancing magic to your body when you fell. Simply put, in about half a cup of tea's time, you won't be able to control yourself. So? Want to keep fighting, or hurry to the toilet? I've heard the Clyster family values ​​reputation above all else, and if it happens in front of the whole school..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but a deafening roar of boos erupted from the stands.

"Disgusting!" "Shameless!" "This can be considered magic?!"

The students angrily waved their fists, but the referee simply said with a straight face, "This magic belongs to the branch of life magic, it's compliant, the match continues."

Hollen's face turned a deep purplish-red.

He clutched his abdomen with one hand and braced himself on the ground with the other. Large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as the churning sensation grew more and more intense, almost breaking through his defenses.

He gritted his teeth and forced out a few words: "Aren't you afraid... after graduation... of my Crest family..."

Luke shrugged. "Among the nobles I've offended, your family doesn't even rank in the top five... I'd like to ask you nobles, what are your intentions in competing with us commoners for the 'Anchor Rune' spot just to prove yourselves?"

He picked up another ice crystal, pretending to toss it. "Oh, by the way, this spell lasts for three days. Even if you run to the toilet now, I can trigger it again tomorrow, the day after... whenever I want. Of course, if you give up, I'll dispel it on the spot."

Of course, he was trying to scare the other side with those words. The rules of the competition prohibit cursing classmates in any form. This is a kind of psychological warfare.

The reason why his Thousand Years of Death didn't defeat his opponent at the beginning wasn't because he didn't use his full strength, but simply because the opponent's clothes were of such high quality that they could resist his magic.

Hollen's body was trembling.

He glanced down at his oil-stained robe, then looked up at the familiar faces on the stage—his classmates were looking at him with worried eyes; his family attendants had covered their faces.

He took a deep breath, slowly straightened his body, and dissipated the gathered flames. "...I surrender."

The sound was broadcast throughout the stadium via the magic broadcast, and the stands fell silent before erupting into even louder boos, most of which were directed at Luke.

Hollen turned and walked off the field, his steps stiff, each one a struggle against the churning emotions within him. After a few steps, he stopped, gritting his teeth as he left a single sentence:

"What a despicable person, Luke. I probably... will never forget you."