Chapter 10: The Gold Class Massacre
The Central Arena of the Argent Academy was an amphitheater of cold marble and ancient enchantments, built to contain the fury of gods. Today, however, it felt more like a slaughterhouse.
News of the "Emergency Ranking Match" had drawn thousands. Students from the lower tiers perched on the edges of their seats, whispering about the "Useless Son" who had dared to claim the top spot. High up in the VIP box, Duke Alaric Caelum sat like a statue of iron, his expression unreadable, while the Academy Senate watched with predatory grins.
"This is not a duel!" the Head Proctor's voice boomed. "This is a survival trial. Rowan Caelum, you will stand in the center. The remaining nine members of the Gold Class will engage you simultaneously. To win, you must either force them out of the ring or remain the last one standing after thirty minutes."
Rowan stood in the heart of the arena, his feet planted in the white sand. He wore his simple combat leathers, a stark contrast to the shimmering enchanted armors of his opponents.
To his left stood the twin mages, Castor and Pollux, their hands already weaving a combined 4th-Circle "Frost-Fire" lattice. To his right, the girl with the giant claymore, Elara of the North, let her aura flare until the air around her distorted with heat. And at the front stood the survivors of the Embassy Ball, their faces twisted with a mix of fear and wounded pride.
Seraphina was absent from the line-up. As a Valois, she had used her "Prodigy" status to recuse herself, claiming her mana was too volatile for a group match. But Rowan could feel her. Through the Empathy link, she was a cool, steady heartbeat in the back of his mind.
"I'm here," her voice whispered in his soul. "Open the core, Rowan. Don't hold back. Give them the vacuum they're so afraid of."
The Onset
"Begin!"
The air in the arena vanished instantly.
The twin mages struck first. A spiraling vortex of blue ice and orange flame roared across the sand, a 4th-Circle fusion spell meant to shatter a fortress gate. Simultaneously, Elara lunged, her claymore descending like a falling mountain.
Rowan didn't move until the spells were inches from his face.
Still Water Breathing: Second Form — Abyssal Mirror.
He didn't dodge. He exhaled, and the Vacuum Core flared with a dark, bruised gold light. As the frost and fire hit him, they didn't explode. They were pulled into a spiral, orbiting his body like moons around a dying star.
Rowan spun, his movement a blur of Flash-Step. He didn't use a sword; he used the very spells his enemies had cast. With a flick of his wrist, he redirected the "Frost-Fire" vortex back at Elara.
BOOM.
The explosion threw the claymore-wielder backward, her armor frosting over even as it singed.
"Is that all?" Rowan's voice was a low growl that carried to every corner of the stadium.
The Resonance of Terror
The Gold Class realized then that they weren't fighting a student. They were fighting a force of nature.
"Together!" Castor screamed, his face pale. "Overwhelm his capacity! A vacuum has a limit!"
The nine students converged. A barrage of lightning, earth spikes, and mana-bolts rained down on the center of the ring. The arena turned into a chaotic storm of light and sound. The ground turned to glass under the heat.
Rowan stood in the eye of the storm. He opened his arms wide, his skin glowing with the Gold and Silver Lattice.
"Now, Seraphina!" he mentally roared.
Outside the arena, Seraphina sat in a secluded meditation room, her hands pressed against the stone floor. She released the "Spill-Over" she had been holding back for years. Through the Soul-Bind, she channeled a torrent of pure, silver Primal Mana directly into Rowan.
Rowan didn't just absorb the attacks. He used Seraphina's mana as a "high-pressure" anchor. The atmospheric pressure in the arena dropped so sharply that the students in the front rows began to cough, clutching their chests.
[Vacuum Technique: Event Horizon]
A sphere of absolute blackness erupted from Rowan's chest. It didn't expand; it inhaled.
The lightning bolts were sucked out of the air. The earth spikes were pulled from the ground and pulverized into dust. The nine students were dragged toward the center as if an invisible hand was pulling their very souls.
"My mana! It's being ripped out!" one of the mages shrieked.
"I can't... breathe..."
Rowan watched them with the cold, detached eyes of the Saint-Knight. He felt their terror, their arrogance breaking, their mana circuits screaming as they were drained dry. He was a beast that had been starving for sixteen years, and today, he was finally full.
The Aftermath
With a final, violent pulse, Rowan released the energy.
A shockwave of neutral essence—the combined and purified mana of all nine students—shot outward. It didn't hurt them, but it acted like a physical wall. All nine members of the Gold Class were sent flying out of the ring, crashing into the marble barriers in a heap of tangled limbs and broken pride.
The thirty-minute timer hadn't even reached its fifth minute.
Rowan stood alone in the center of the devastated ring. The sand beneath his feet had been obliterated, revealing the ancient, blackened bedrock of the academy. His golden eyes scanned the VIP box, locking onto Duke Alaric.
The Duke stood up, his hands gripped tight on the railing. For the first time in Rowan's memory, there was a flicker of something other than coldness in the Duke's eyes. It was fear.
"The match is over," Rowan said, his voice quiet but echoing in the absolute silence of the stadium. "I am the Gold Class."
He turned and walked out of the arena, not waiting for the proctor to declare him the winner.
As he reached the tunnel, a slender hand caught his. Seraphina was there, her face pale but her eyes blazing with triumph. Her mana was finally stable, her resonance perfectly aligned with his.
"You did it," she whispered. "You didn't just win. You broke the system."
"The system was already broken," Rowan replied, pulling her into the shadows of the tunnel. "I just reminded them what happens when you try to contain a void."
But as they walked away, Rowan felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. The Vacuum Core was spinning too fast. The "Gold and Silver Lattice" was glowing so brightly it was beginning to singe his skin.
He had taken too much.
"Seraphina," he gasped, leaning against the cold stone wall. "The core... it's not stopping."
She looked at his chest, her eyes widening. The energy was no longer just in his veins; it was beginning to overflow, threatening to detonate the very body that held it.
"There's only one way to stabilize this much power," she said, her voice trembling as she looked into his golden eyes. "We have to move to Level 2."