Lei Ting was being chased. Alva's combat skills were extraordinary—despite Lei Ting firing off three or four spells in rapid succession, none so much as grazed him.
The swordsman seemed to predict Lei Ting's every move, dodging before the lightning magic even struck. Even when a spell did connect, the dense battle aura covering Alva's body negated most of the damage.
Lei Ting was frustrated, but Alva was even more shocked. Since beginning his training journey, he had faced countless opponents—mostly warriors, but he had also sparred with Andy, a genius among geniuses. Yet even Andy's beginner-level spells paled in comparison to the power of Lei Ting's magic.
*This guy isn't even trying!* Alva thought, watching Lei Ting casually flick spells his way. *Is he really just a beginner mage? What kind of place is Faeir City?*
Ten meters away now. Alva steadied his breathing, his eyes sharpening. With a roar, his sword began moving in a precise, rhythmic pattern, his feet suddenly carrying him forward like the wind. In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance.
Every spell Lei Ting had cast was deflected by the battle aura swirling around Alva's blade. By the time Alva reached him, Lei Ting was still leisurely preparing his next incantation.
*So fast!*
Lei Ting had noticed earlier that this swordsman favored agility over brute force—his weapon was light, his footwork nimble. But he hadn't expected *this* level of speed.
*Is this some kind of warrior technique?*
Lei Ting was right. This *was* a warrior technique—**Battle Aura Burst**, a short-term speed boost that consumed a significant amount of aura. Mastering balance and direction at such speeds required years of training.
Alva's eyes burned with fighting spirit. The moment he closed in, his sword became a blur—fast, impossibly fast. Against any normal mage, this would have been the end.
But Lei Ting wasn't a normal mage.
Blocking with **Gale**, his enchanted dagger, Lei Ting backpedaled furiously. Alva's swordplay was mesmerizing—a storm of steel, each strike flowing seamlessly into the next, threatening to engulf Lei Ting completely.
Yet Lei Ting held his ground, matching every slash, every thrust.
The crowd watched, breathless, as the two circled the arena—one retreating desperately, the other pursuing relentlessly. The crisp *clang* of steel on enchanted metal rang out like a rapid-fire percussion.
One lap. Two laps. Three.
Lei Ting looked ragged but unbroken, weathering Alva's onslaught.
*What kind of monster is this?* The middle-aged observer on the stands felt a chill. Not only was Lei Ting's magic control flawless, but he was also holding his own against Alva's relentless assault!
Gradually, Alva's speed began to wane. Sweat beaded on his brow, his movements growing sluggish.
Lei Ting saw his chance.
While retreating, he secretly conjured a **Palming Thunder**, holding it in his palm. Then, with a smirk, he compressed the volatile lightning into a smooth, glowing orb.
**"Precision Control!"** The middle-aged man paled, glancing at Headmaster Laurent.
Even the headmaster was stunned. To tame the unruly lightning element to this degree—this kid was undeniably a genius!
Lei Ting created a second orb, sending both floating toward Alva in erratic, unpredictable paths.
Alva hesitated—what were these things?
A fatal mistake.
**"Lightning, Burst!"**
The orbs detonated in a blinding flash, thunder cracking like the sky itself had split. Alva, caught between the twin explosions, roared in defiance—abandoning his defensive aura, he channeled every last drop of energy into his sword and *threw* it like a spear.
A beam of condensed battle aura shot straight for Lei Ting's heart.
**"ALVA, NO!"** The middle-aged observer leapt from the stands, Laurent right behind him.
Lei Ting reacted instantly—no incantation, no preparation. **Thunder Roar** erupted from his palm, intercepting the deadly strike.
Meanwhile, the lightning orbs finished their work. Alva collapsed, twitching, his body smoking.
**"You... can cast without chanting?"** Alva gritted out, teeth chattering.
**"And you can throw swords like javelins!"** Lei Ting shot back, furious. **"Was winning worth dying for?"**
Alva had gambled everything on that last attack. If Lei Ting hadn't reacted in time...
The middle-aged man checked Alva's pulse, relieved to find him alive.
**"Two battles. Two defeats."** The observer sighed, lifting Alva gently. Without another word, he led the humiliated Osdin contingent away.
The crowd erupted.
**"LEI TING! LEI TING!"**
Before he knew it, Lei Ting was hoisted into the air, tossed again and again by the roaring students.
Somewhere in the chaos, a coldly beautiful warrior watched, her hand resting on the hilt of a massive greatsword.
**"Half-and-half,"** she murmured when her instructor asked how she'd fare against Alva. **"His aura projection is sharper, but his obsession with victory is his weakness."**
Headmaster Laurent, meanwhile, was delivering a speech so impassioned it could've stirred the dead.
**"From this day forth, let the world know—Faeir Magic Academy stands unrivaled!"**
And at the edge of the crowd, Instructor Maria smiled softly, her heart full.
**This reckless, brilliant boy had done it again.**
**What new challenges await the academy's rising star?**