Chapter 44: Confrontation in the Arena

Chapter 44: Chapter 44: Confrontation in the Arena

"They’ve walked hundreds of meters away, yet the captain is still gazing after them so longingly, reluctant to look away? If you are that attached, you might as well just chase after them for convenience."

Jeremy secretly took a deep breath, suppressing his sense of helplessness. He had almost forgotten that right beside him sat someone with a bizarre personality, ten thousand times more fond of finding fault with others.

Not wanting to prolong the pointless conversation, Jeremy decisively withdrew his gaze, focusing all his attention on the center of the arena.

The matches that had just taken place were somewhat dull. The freshmen had been enrolled for less than two months; the disjointedness in their team coordination was evident in every movement. Their magical cultivation levels were also nothing remarkable to warrant any concern.

Jeremy touched his bracelet, activating the light screen, and directly accessed the Academy’s internal network to browse through the total score rankings of the solo matches. He carefully scanned from the top position all the way down to the last name.

The data showed that the student holding the highest realm in the current freshman class had reached Tier One Nine-Star—the bearer of Sacred Covenant number 16 from the Omnia Branch.

Ranked second was a student from the Astraea Branch, Sacred Covenant number 11, at the Tier One Eight-Star realm.

The third place... was none other than Lomita, who had just appeared earlier. She bore Sacred Covenant number 12, and her realm was also stable at Tier One Eight-Star.

What made Jeremy somewhat thoughtful was that the number of people possessing a Sacred Covenant was rarer than he had imagined. Out of a total of 400 freshmen, counting back and forth, there were only a mere 69 individuals. Squeezing into the top 10 of the freshman rankings was an even more luxurious concept; currently, only Raphael alone had achieved it.

The vast majority of the rest were Spirit Covenant bearers, lingering in the middle segment of the rankings.

Of course... that was excluding their dead-last collective known as Class 659. Among all 400 freshmen, there was absolutely no one possessing a Spirit Covenant number below 200; even the person at the very bottom was sitting pretty at number 199.

Just by closing his eyes, Jeremy could already picture the scene: the moment he and these "freakish" teammates stepped onto the arena, they would immediately be met with an ocean of catcalls and mocking glares.

"Next match! The Storm Team of the Linnea Branch versus the Red Wolf Team of the Astraea Branch!"

The referee’s magically amplified voice had just faded when the entire grandstand instantly boiled over.

"Damn, the Linnea Branch’s team is really going all out this year; their entire lineup consists of Sacred Covenant bearers!"

"So what? Based on average strength, the Red Wolf Team is still slightly superior. Remember, Red Wolf’s captain was the runner-up in the solo tournament."

"Makes sense. Red Wolf’s composition is very solid: one 5-star, three 6-stars. Even though the captains of both sides are tied at 8-star, the Storm Team is dragging along two 5-stars, and the remaining two are only 6-stars. A little calculation shows right away that Storm is at a disadvantage."

The buzzing discussions immediately captured Jeremy’s attention. He turned off the light screen and looked up, staring intently at the magic crystal screen that was zooming in on the situation in the arena. He had originally intended to use this opportunity to gauge the strength of that runner-up, but unexpectedly, the moment the camera panned over, Jeremy realized that the captain of the Storm Team was none other than Lomita.

Enemies on a narrow path; what an interesting coincidence.

On the arena, killing intent began to condense. Both sides simultaneously released their energy, summoning their Sacred Weapons.

The form of Lomita’s Sacred Weapon was a breathtakingly beautiful glazed umbrella. The shaft and ribs were forged from gleaming purple silver, and the umbrella’s surface was composed of fragile yet razor-sharp glazed petals. The handle was adorned with complex magic veins, with a small bell attached. Every time it glided through the wind, the crisp ringing of the bell echoed clearly; it sounded melodious to the ear but concealed a deadly killing intent.

In stark contrast to that exquisiteness, the Sacred Weapon of the Red Wolf captain—Senior Fino—was a slender short sword exuding a cold, bluish-white light. The hilt simulated the shape of a pair of spread bird wings, sharp and dangerous.

Looking at their weapon structures, it was not difficult to see that both pursued the explosive close-combat school. The offensive nature of a number bearer was usually directly shaped by the form of their Sacred Weapon. There were berserk types, support-oriented types, control-specialized types, or like Fino—breakthrough and piercing types.

Even though they shared the same realm, Lomita’s number was one rank lower than Fino’s. Combined with the disparity in the overall strength of their teammates, the pressure weighing on Lomita’s shoulders was by no means small.

Jeremy slightly shifted his sitting posture, his eyes flashing with a glint of interest. He wanted to see, with such a heavily one-sided situation, what trump card that easily bristled eldest miss would use to turn the tables.

The bell signaling the start of the battle rang out.

On the arena, Lomita’s afterimage flickered. She took the initiative to charge forward and launch an attack. The glazed umbrella popped open with a "thwack," and purplish-pink magic power rapidly converged, compressing into a blazing stream of purple magic fire that erupted from the umbrella’s surface, darting straight toward Fino like a fire dragon.

Facing the scorching heat, Fino’s reaction speed fully lived up to the title of Runner-up. Fino flipped her wrist, and the light, thin sword spun in a perfect circle, creating a barrier of freezing sword aura. The ruthless, sharp astral wind tore the purple flame into shreds.

Not stopping at defense, Fino stomped her toe heavily against the stone floor. Her body transformed into a shadow darting through the air. The sword tip, carrying a bone-chilling cold, thrust straight toward Lomita’s heart.

Lomita did not reveal the slightest bit of panic. Her flexible waist bent backward, and the sword blade grazed past the tip of her nose, carrying a flesh-cutting chill. At that exact moment, Lomita’s left hand tightened around the umbrella handle, and magic power surged. The edge of the umbrella suddenly jutted out a ring of razor-sharp metal sawteeth. Relying on the rotational force of her wrist, the umbrella turned into a giant buzzsaw, slashing violently toward Fino.

Having encountered this move during the solo tournament, Fino frowned coldly, raising her sword vertically to block the strike. The momentum of the collision produced an ear-piercing screech.

But at that very split second, the corners of Lomita’s lips curled up. She flipped her hand forcefully, a violent arc of magic power fluctuated, and the umbrella’s surface... directly exploded!

Dozens of paper-thin purple glazed fragments shattered, turning into a rain of razor-sharp hidden weapons. They did not aim for Fino, but bypassed her maximized defense, flying at wind-tearing speeds to impale the four teammates standing in the backline.

Fino’s pupils contracted violently. Realizing the opponent’s intention, Fino intended to turn around and run to the rescue, but how could Lomita let go of this surefire opportunity?

Lomita transformed the umbrella’s skeleton into a short spear, thrusting relentlessly, thoroughly cutting off Fino’s retreat. The metal ribs ground against each other, sparking a trail of fire, grazing past the defense and tearing Fino’s sleeve, leaving behind a blindingly red streak of blood.

Lomita narrowed her eyes, her smile dripping with smugness: "Senior Fino, on the battlefield, if you want to be a hero and save others, you must first preserve your own life."

"Captain! Don’t worry about us!" The shout of a Red Wolf team member rang out urgently from behind.

Looking at Lomita’s undisguised triumphant demeanor, Fino’s gaze grew a few degrees colder. The short sword in Fino’s hand stabbed out even more ruthless trajectories, pressing hard against the opponent: "You are still just as cunning as you were in the past."

"You are not any less so, Senior." Lomita snorted lightly, absolutely not taking it as an insult.

Sensing that the rain of glaze had successfully thrown the enemy formation into chaos, Lomita snapped her fingers with a crisp "click."

Ten sharp glazed fragments fluttering in the air were instantly yanked backward by an invisible suction force, returning to patch themselves back together into a complete umbrella right in front of Lomita’s chest, firmly blocking a ferocious surge of sword aura from Fino.