Chapter 44: Six vs One

Five seconds.

Six bodies lay scattered across the courtyard floor, groaning, dizzy, utterly stunned.

A ripple of shock passed through the surroundings.

Conversations halted.

Students walking past stopped mid-step. A crowd formed almost instantly.

"What the—?"

"Did you see that?"

"Who... who did this?"

"It happened so fast..."

"Wait, look! Is that William Dawncrest!?"

"Someone beat William!?"

"No way! Who’s the guy standing there?"

"The handsome one...I think... I think that’s Elion!"

"Elion? The last-ranked? The talentless loser!?"

"You’re joking."

"No, look! It is him!"

"Oh my god..."

William stared at the crowd, face paling. Their whispers hit harder than any blow.

I... I’ve been humiliated?

ME?

WILLIAM DAWNCREST?

His face twisted with pure rage.

"You—"His voice cracked. Then sharpened.

The realization burned through him like acid.

"You’re dead!" he hissed at Elion, who only stood there calmly, looking down at them as if they were bugs wriggling after a light rain.

"Get up!" William roared. "Get up and get him, you sons of bitches!"

The six scrambled upright, wobbling, furious, humiliated, and charged again, this time with far more desperation than before.

They rushed him again, harder, faster, fueled by embarrassment and blind rage.

This time, the six didn’t hold back.

Their steps thundered across the stone courtyard; muscles tensed, mana flickered faintly in William’s movement, and the onlookers braced themselves for an ugly brawl.

Elion exhaled softly.

Discerning Eye.

The world slowed once more.

Feet slammed down in sluggish echoes, fists trembled mid-swing, and desperate expressions stretched strangely across their faces.

They were faster than before, William especially, but still predictable, painfully so.

Elion stepped forward.

Jared lunged first again, both arms out.

Elion turned his torso slightly, guided Jared’s momentum with a light tap at the elbow, and sent him stumbling headfirst into the stone.

Crack—!

Gasps erupted.

Another guy came from behind, aiming for a full tackle.

Elion stepped aside, snagged the back of his collar, and redirected him downward.

The guy slammed into the ground face-first, skidding across the tiles.

A third attacker swung wildly.

Elion ducked beneath the arm, swept his leg out, not to strike, but to knock the attacker’s footing off-balance, and nudged his shoulder.

The guy spun like a puppet with its strings cut and landed hard.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Silas charged next, roaring in humiliation.

Elion simply caught his wrist, turned, used Silas’s momentum, and hurled him over his shoulder.

The air left Silas’s lungs in a helpless wheeze as he hit the ground.

Markus came right after, fists raised.

Elion didn’t even dodge.

He stepped into Markus’s space, tapped the boy’s knee with the side of his foot, and Markus collapsed mid-step.

Only William was left.

He was faster.

Sharper.

Stronger.

Elion saw it immediately, from the way William’s muscles coiled, from the slight crackle of mana that pulsed through his movement.

But predictable.

William’s punch cut through the air, fast.

Elion leaned half an inch to the side.

The fist sailed past his cheek.

That hesitation was all Elion needed.

He grabbed William’s outstretched arm, pivoted, and pulled the boy clean off his feet.

William crashed down harder than the others, the impact echoing through the courtyard.

Boom.

Silence.

Then.

Groans.

Six bodies writhed on the ground, twisted, clutching bruised limbs and ribs.

The drops had been harder this time; their own reckless strength had worked against them.

Elion stood over them, breathing steady, not a speck of dust on him.

He blinked.

I... didn’t even hit anyone.

It dawned on him slowly.

Why was that so easy?

Yes, William was fast; Elion could see the difference immediately.

And yes, William was stronger.

But every movement was predictable, telegraphed, sloppy with emotion.

So this is the gap between technique and raw strength...?

Around him, the courtyard exploded into noise.

"Holy crap, he dropped them again!"

"What rank is he supposed to be!?"

"He’s last ranked among all the first years!"

"That was so fast, I couldn’t even see half of it!"

"No way that’s the same Elion..."

"Did he reawaken his talent!?"

"I swear he didn’t even punch anyone!"

More students poured in from every direction like curious birds, chattering loudly.

"Is that really William Dawncrest?"

"Someone get a teacher, no, wait, keep watching!"

"Damn, this is insane, Elion just destroyed him!"

"No, them. He destroyed them!"

William’s eyes twitched open.

He pushed himself up an inch, only to collapse again.

Then...

Gnash.

He clenched his teeth so hard the sound scraped through the air, raw and animalistic.

Humiliation burned across his face, twisting it into something ugly.

Elion just stared down at him, calm, unreadable.

"Wow!" An uproar began...

And the courtyard grew even louder.

"Did you see that!"

"What just happened!"

"I can’t believe my eyes!"

But everything fell eerily quiet when William suddenly lurched to his feet, veins bulging, eyes bloodshot.

Then...

ROAR!

He charged at Elion like a rabid beast.

Wind mana exploded around him, whipping the courtyard into a spiraling current.

Loose stones, dust, and even fallen leaves shot up into the air.

Elion’s eyes widened.

This idiot...! He’s lost all reason! He’s casting a spell with all these people watching!?

Wind gathered violently around William’s arm, compressing, sharpening, forming the outline of a blade.

Students screamed and stumbled backward.

"That’s wind magic—!"

"He’s seriously using a spell!?"

"Is he insane!?"

Elion dropped instinctively into a defensive stance, body coiling, every muscle taut.

A cold sweat broke across his back. If that spell hit him...

No.

He couldn’t let that happen.