The arena was dead silent—so quiet you could hear the whisper of the wind.
The middle-aged man beside Headmaster Laurent shot to his feet, his face ashen, his eyes twitching as they locked onto Thunder.
*Who the hell is this guy?!*
How had he dodged Andy's ultimate move? Luck? Coincidence?
No. The man had seen it clearly—the moment Andy unleashed his attack, Thunder's body twisted unnaturally, evading everything in a blur.
This wasn't luck. This was combat instinct… and a technique no mage could hope to match!
Faelor Magic and Martial Academy had been hiding a monster!
The man knew the only way to counter Andy's move was brute force—either a wide-range spell to neutralize the blades or a shield to tank them. Even *he* would've had to do that.
Andy's technique only worked on junior mages. Intermediate mages could learn area spells, rendering it useless. It was a gimmick born from Andy's micro-control training.
As his mentor, the man knew this better than anyone.
*"How… how is this possible?"* Laurent feigned shock, though he was barely containing his glee. *"My trash apprentice actually dodged all that? What incredible luck!"*
The middle-aged man's eye twitched. *"You're saying he's still an apprentice?"*
*"Of course! You think someone like him could pass the junior mage exam?"* Laurent scoffed. *"I tested him myself last time. The kid's delusional—his elemental affinity is garbage. Flunked hard!"*
*"Bull—"* The man barely bit back the curse.
A guy who could thrash Andy like this… an *apprentice*? Impossible! But though he knew Laurent was lying, he had no way to refute it.
Just as he'd mocked Laurent and Faelor Academy without rebuttal…
*How the tables have turned.*
The match was over. Andy had lost.
As his mentor, the man knew Andy's personality well. Having his ultimate move dodged would shatter the boy's confidence.
Andy was just a child, after all.
With a sigh, the man clenched his staff—a treasure forged with endless effort and gold—debating whether to shamelessly renege or just leave.
*"Looks like your staff will soon belong to Thunder,"* Laurent taunted.
The man's grip faltered, nearly dropping it.
---
*"How…?"* On the arena floor, Andy stared blankly, as if his soul had been crushed.
This prodigy had reached peak junior mage at thirteen. After this expedition, he was set to test for intermediate mage.
Thirteen years old—an age almost unheard of in Atlantis. Andy had every right to be proud.
But geniuses like him, raised in greenhouses, thrived on confidence. One defeat could break them forever.
*"Thunder's Roar!"* Thunder raised his hand, fingers splayed.
*Crackle—BOOM!*
A mutated Palming Thunder—wild, crackling with electricity—materialized in his palm.
Back on Earth, cultivators made names for themselves with unique techniques or weapons.
So Thunder had decided his signature move needed a name. This variant Palming Thunder was his creation—no mage could use it in close combat.
The blinding light snapped Andy out of his daze.
Staring at the sparking electricity inches from his face, the boy froze, unsure what to do.
Thunder seized Andy's collar, his eyes radiating killing intent.
This kid was vicious, treating lives like toys. That last move could've killed someone—a severed artery, and it'd be over.
Thunder wasn't quick to anger, but once provoked, he didn't hold back.
In Bretton Forest, the Silver Serpent mercenaries had crossed that line. Though he'd never killed before, Thunder hadn't hesitated.
In this world, you either killed or were killed.
Now, Andy had ignited that fury again. Thunder *wanted* to slam Thunder's Roar into his chest.
Andy recoiled at Thunder's gaze—the playful opponent was gone, replaced by something terrifying.
He struggled wildly but couldn't break free.
In the end, Thunder held back. Instead, he kicked Andy square in the chest, sending the boy tumbling off the stage.
*"Get lost!"* Thunder roared.
The crowd was stunned.
Faelor's students had never seen Thunder this enraged. To them, he was always the easygoing, smiling guy.
Now, witnessing this side of him, they realized—*Brother Thunder isn't someone to mess with.*
*"Thunder's so manly!"* Sisi swooned, her eyes glistening as she stared at his heroic figure.
But as Thunder kicked Andy off, a figure descended from the stands, a gale-force wind blasting toward him mid-air.
This wind's power dwarfed Andy's.
Thunder blurred across the stage, appearing beneath the newcomer and thrusting Thunder's Roar upward.
*CRACK!*
The electricity erupted violently. Thunder struck, then retreated instantly.
The man—caught off-guard by Thunder's bizarre speed—took the hit head-on. In panic, he hastily shielded himself, enduring the blow unharmed but stumbling awkwardly on landing.
Thunder, now a cautious panther, eyed the man warily. *"Who are you?"*
The man's robes bore a moon emblem, surrounded by intricate patterns.
*A Great Mage? What's he doing here?*
Headmaster Laurent swooped in, floating gracefully with a wind spell, looking every bit the dramatic savior.
Seeing the middle-aged man move, Laurent had followed—but Thunder's performance left him both shocked and delighted.
The man's face was dark. A Great Mage, humiliated by an *apprentice*? Unbearable.
*"I'm Andy's mentor. He lost. This ends here."*
Realization dawned on Thunder. When he'd grabbed Andy, this man must've thought he'd kill the boy. Hence the rescue.
Laurent landed with flair, smirking. *"Your mana is truly profound. To conjure such a radiant shield on a whim—I'm in awe."*
The man wished the earth would swallow him.
Laurent was mocking him—a Great Mage, forced to shield against a *student's* attack.
Knowing the man's identity eased Thunder's wariness. Glancing at Andy, he said coldly, *"My friend had seventeen wind-blade wounds. Today, I returned seventeen burns. Remember this pain. Bullying the weak isn't skill."*
The man's face twisted.
*Seventeen?!*
Thunder had *counted* the wounds on that fire mage—mid-combat, no less.
This wasn't just a number. It was battlefield precision.
The gap between Andy and Thunder wasn't just wide—it was a chasm.
Franks, nursing his injuries, sniffled emotionally.
Kylie, tending to him, nudged him. *"You're so pretty—why not offer yourself to him?"*
*"I didn't hear that. I heard nothing!"* Franks turned away.
Nearby, Austin Academy students helped Andy up, slinking away in shame. The boy's eyes were hollow.
Thunder glanced at Laurent, who gave an approving nod.
*"Well, it seems I won't be running naked through Faelor today! Ah, what a relief!"* Laurent announced loudly.
The female students blushed, cursing the headmaster's shamelessness.
But the middle-aged man trembled, his grip on his staff shaking. Thunder watched, fascinated, as a kaleidoscope of emotions flashed across his face—regret, anguish, indignation, humiliation, fury.
No one understood Laurent's remark, but the man did.
After a long pause, he trudged toward Thunder, each step labored, as if carrying a mountain.
A few steps took an eternity.
*What now?* Thunder eyed him warily, then looked to Laurent, who signaled reassurance.
*"This… is for you."* The man extended his staff, swallowing hard with each word.
*"For me?"* Thunder pointed at himself, baffled. *Is this guy mentally ill?*
Laurent frantically gestured—he'd coveted this staff for years!
Thunder reached for it, but the man clung on stubbornly.
*"This staff… is yours. Yes, yours."* The man's voice wavered. *"Its name is Zephyr. Starwood and Mithril—hard as steel. But don't clash it with weapons; it'll damage it. The core is from an eighth-tier Wind Serpent I hunted. Remember to channel mana into it, or it won't perform at full power."*
Thunder mused—*A wind staff for a lightning mage? Useless.*
But an eighth-tier core? His eyes gleamed.
*"You're *sure* this is for me?"* Thunder yanked, finally prying the staff free.
The man's expression was pure agony, his throat working soundlessly.
*"Treat it well."* With that, he stumbled away, his steps even more unsteady.
A mage's staff was his second life—like a warrior's sword or a knight's lance. *The staff stands with the mage!*
Watching the man's pitiful retreat, Thunder turned to Laurent. *"Is he sick?"*
The man nearly face-planted, shooting Thunder a venomous glare.
*"Oops. Should've whispered that."* Thunder waved Zephyr cheerfully.
Aside from the mismatched element, the staff felt perfect—weighted, balanced. Great for whacking people. That giant core would leave quite the lump.
Laurent was euphoric—so much so he almost stripped and ran naked on the spot.
*"Mages of Austin Academy!"* Thunder planted Zephyr behind his neck, striking a ridiculous pose. *"Any more challengers? No one? Don't tell me only one of your mages was worth anything?"*
Of course, Andy was their top mage. With him crushed, who'd dare step up?
*"Ha! Just as I thought. That wind mage was your best? Austin Magic and Martial Academy—what a joke! You've got ten breaths. No challengers? Then I'll tell everyone I single-handedly crushed your entire mage division!"*
*"This speech… sounds familiar,"* Sisi murmured, puzzled.
Maria facepalmed. *"It's word-for-word what that wind mage said earlier. Thunder's just recycling it."*
*"Brother Thunder is *such* a troll,"* Eric sighed.
Thunder counted down dramatically.
*"Brother Thunder! Brother Thunder!"* The crowd erupted, chanting his name.
*"Three… two… one!"* Thunder brandished Zephyr. *"Austin—you lose!"*
The verdict was in. A mob surged toward the stage, eager to mob their hero.
Thunder struck a heroic pose and bellowed, *"Wait!"*
*"What now?"* the girls whined. This was their chance to touch their idol!
*"Headmaster,"* Thunder called. *"Aegis still isn't back, right?"*
*"No."*
*"Warriors of Austin Academy!"* Thunder declared. *"I, a mere mage, challenge you all! Come avenge your mages!"*
Silence.
Then—
*Is he insane?!*
Thunder's declaration left both Austin and Faelor students