Back in the bond realm, Tii trained every day — combining Nyx’s shadow augmentation and Rai’ten’s wind+lightning amplifications.
His speed became terrifying.
His timing became inhuman.
His aerial mobility turned him into a blur.
Nyx would shadow-step around him to force Tii to react faster.
Rai’ten would dive, forcing Tii to redirect lightning essence.
Falcon Staff would hum corrections, teaching perfect flow.
And then…
…a loud, horrible, broken honking noise echoed through the bond realm.
Tii froze.
“…no…”
“…NO.”
“…WHY.”
A translucent, badly-drawn feathered creature wiggled through a tree.
Miko.
Ghost Miko.
The idiot bird flapped in circles, screeching like:
“BWEEEHK—SKRRR—KAWK—EEEEEEEH!”
Nyx snarled.
Rai’ten tilted his head awkwardly.
Even Falcon Staff — 10,000 years old — sounded offended.
“What… IS that?”
Tii sighs deeply.
“That… is Miko.”
Rai’ten chirped to Tii telepathically:
“…he speaks nonsense.”
“Yep.”
Nyx added:
“He died. Why is he here?”
“I DON’T KNOW.”
Miko flew straight into a tree and got stuck.
Training continued with Miko causing chaos in the background:
? flying in circles
? faceplanting into rocks
? interrupting sparring
? honking at random moments
? occasionally helping through sheer accident
Tii eventually just ignored him.
THE SELECTION TOURNAMENT BEGINS ?
One week before the tournament, Tii reads the rules:
? Day 1: 3 battles
? Day 2: 3 battles
? Day 3: final 3 battles
? No killing
? No external weapons
? No outside magic artifacts
? Barehanded only
Tii grins.
“Perfect.”
Nyx hums from the shadows.
“You will terrify them.”
Rai’ten crackles with lightning.
“Let them fear the sky.”
Tii stretches his knuckles.
“…I want to see how many nobles I can make cry.”
? **ACADEMY TOURNAMENT
“THE PRELIMS — SAVAGE OF MU”** ?
The arena roared with arrogant confidence.
Nobles, half-blood aristocrats, wealthy merchant brats, even upper-rank professors filled the stands with smug certainty:
“The Mu savage won’t last a minute.”
“He’ll cry for help the second he sees proper gear.”
“He’s just a fog-rat—trained by animals.”
“Bet he doesn’t even know what an enchantment is.”
Tii stood alone in the center of Arena 3, rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck, wearing nothing but his Mu cloak and a bored expression.
Nyx watched through his shadow.
Rai’ten perched invisibly above the arena rafters.
Falcon Staff whispered inside Tii’s mind:
“Remember your rule: no weapons, no magic. Hand-to-hand only.”
Tii smirked.
“Yep. Makes this more fun.”
The announcer’s booming voice cracked the sky.
**“PRELIMINARY MATCH ONE!
Garruk Steelhyde vs. Tii Alpha’leo!”**
The crowd erupted.
Garruk — half human, half orc — stomped forward in a full set of ancient enchanted armor, glowing with red sigils. He towered over three meters tall, the enchantments boosting his size, strength, and intimidation.
The armor was thick, plated, old-world dwarven make with orcish reinforcement.
The axe he carried?
Almost as big as Tii.
The noble sneered through his helmet slits.
“Oi, fog-rat. Kneel. I’ll make your death quick.”
The crowd HOWLED with approval.
Tii blinked once.
“…who are you again?”
Garruk snarled, offended.
“The last thing you’ll ever see, boy.”
Tii sighed. “Damn. I was hoping for someone impressive.”
The crowd BOOED.
Garruk roared in rage, lifting his enchanted axe high.
The enchantments flared — crimson, pulsing, deadly.
“Taste a REAL warrior’s power!”
He charged with terrifying force, swinging the blade straight for Tii’s neck — a clean kill strike.
The crowd cheered, certain Tii was about to be cleaved in half.
They didn’t even see Tii move.
One breath.
One blink.
One slip under the swing.
Tii glided under the axe like water slipping past a falling boulder.
Before Garruk realized what happened, Tii’s hands were around his waist.
And then—
CRACK—!!!
A perfect Mu-style back-arch suplex, executed with surgical precision.
Garruk’s helmet SMASHED into the arena floor, stone fracturing into a spider-web pattern beneath him.
The crowd gasped.
Garruk’s vision blurred.
Tii didn’t stop.
He rolled backward, maintaining the waist-lock—
CRACK!!
Another suplex.
And another.
And another.
Each impact broke more of Garruk’s armor.
Ancient metal cracked.
Dwarven plates bent.
Orcish reinforcements snapped like dry bark.
The arena fell silent except for the rhythmic, horrifying:
**BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.**
Until finally—
CRRRRAAAAAAACK—!!!
Tii delivered the last suplex with so much force the arena floor cratered beneath Garruk’s skull. The noble’s body lay limp, twitching once before going still.
His spine was ruined.
Neck twisted.
Armor shattered, upper body exposed.
Only his leg armor remained intact.
Tii calmly stood, dusted off his cloak, and walked away like he had simply stepped over a puddle.
No celebration.
No taunt from him.
Only silence from the crowd.
A silence built entirely on:
Fear.
Realization.
And the dawning horror of what a Mu-trained hand-to-hand fighter truly was.
Many spectators quietly closed their mouths.
Others shifted away from the Mu student in the stands, no longer laughing at the “savage.”
Some nobles removed their bets from later matches.
Tii sat down on the edge of the arena, bored again.
Falcon Staff whispered through their bond:
“Elegant form. Excessive force.”
“…he insulted my parents,” Tii muttered.
“So yeah. He deserved it.”
Nyx’s shadow rippled under the bench, amused.
As other prelim matches dragged on, Tii barely paid attention — yawning, poking at the arena floor with a stick, flicking pebbles at random nobles who glared at him.
But then…
Three fights caught his attention.
Not because they were spectacular.
But because these three weren’t weak.
1. Alyndra Valeheart
Half-demon, half-human.
Agile. Efficient. Controlled.
Her essence control was sharp and her footwork eerily precise.
Tii nodded.
“She’s fast.”
2. Grav Ironwell
Dwarf-human hybrid.
Short, dense, unbelievably durable.
A walking fortress with fists like meteors.
Tii grinned.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
“He hits hard. I like him.”
3. Renis Sharleaf
Elf-human hybrid.
Cold, calculating, laser-focused precision.
His counters were flawless.
His magic control was terrifyingly stable.
Tii smirked.
“…okay, okay.
These three are legit.”
He cracked his knuckles.
“Good. Beating them will be fun.”
Nyx whispered:
“You sound excited.”
“Hell yeah,” Tii replied. “Now we’re finally getting to the real opponents.”
? **TOURNAMENT ARC — PART II
“THE ELEGANT, THE ARROGANT, AND THE DECIMATED”** ?
The arena air was electric—thick with anticipation, thick with the confidence of nobles who still, somehow, still, believed Tii’s first match was a fluke.
After all, they reasoned…
“He’s just a fog savage.”
“A lucky animal.”
“No technique, no form.”
The moment the announcer called Tii’s name for the second fight, the entire stadium rumbled with taunts again.
Tii yawned.
Nyx nested deeper in his shadow.
Falcon Staff hummed like he was already bored.
The next noble opponent walked out with his chin raised and his posture perfect—every step precise.
His armor was top-tier elven lattice-plate, enchanted for mobility and grace.
His gloves shimmered with impact runes.
He even carried himself like he was walking on air.
This one… believed his own hype.
He stared directly at Tii with polished disdain.
“You fight like an animal,” he announced. “Your previous display was savagery—brutal, grotesque, lacking in any semblance of art.”
The crowd murmured approvingly.
Tii scratched his cheek.
“…okay?”
The noble raised a finger.
“I shall now demonstrate true combat. The refined art only nobles—proper nobles—can master. Watch closely. Try not to blink.”
Then, with shocking speed, he lunged in.
He slid into a textbook perfect bladed stance.
Fast footwork.
Crisp technique.
Beautiful form.
Two left jabs—snappy, straight, controlled.
Tii leaned back from the first with a lazy sway.
The second jab came—Tii slipped forward-right, calm, relaxed, almost casual.
The noble grinned, confident.
Then came the right cross—clean line, perfect shoulder rotation, flawless extension.
Tii slid left.
The punch whisked across his cheek.
And then—
CRACK—!!!
The moment the cross passed by his head, Tii delivered a right overhand that cut straight down like a falling guillotine.
It landed flush.
The noble’s head didn’t just snap back—it followed Tii’s fist all the way down to the arena floor.
His body crumpled like wet cloth.
Silence.
The arena froze.
A single Mu punch—clean, controlled, elegant in its simplicity—ended the fight instantly.
Tii dusted his knuckles, expression blank.
“That’s form, by the way,” he muttered as he walked off.
Falcon Staff snorted in his mind.
Nyx snickered from the shadow.
Tii sat back down, legs kicked out, watching the other three students from earlier.
Alyndra.
Grav.
Renis.
He studied their footwork.
Their timing.
Their instincts.
He was done wasting time on weaklings.
When Tii’s name was called again, he strolled into the arena with the same bored, sleepy expression.
His opponent this time?
A cocky noble tech-user.
Human.
Tall.
Draped in sleek, high-tech armor with glowing circuits.
A long mechanical staff in hand.
The noble smirked.
“Let’s make this quick, savage.”
The staff elongated—
stretched—
extended—
then suddenly broke apart into three floating drones that hovered and buzzed like angry wasps.
Each drone snapped with arc-light barrels.
The noble’s wrist-bracers glowed with direct-control enchantments.
“Oh, this’ll be interesting,” Tii mumbled.
The noble clenched his fists.
“TRY AND SURVIVE THIS, MUD-BORN!”
The drones opened fire.
KRAK-KRAK-KRAK-KRAK-KRAK—!!!
Dozens of blasts per second.
A rainstorm of charged shots.
Explosions erupted across the arena floor.
Dust filled the air.
Energy flares lit the stands.
The noble spread his arms wide, delivering a proud speech as explosions shook the stadium:
“You see!? THIS is the difference between nobility and filth! WE refine our craft! WE elevate combat into art! YOU—”
The drones halted.
The dust thinned.
And standing there, exactly where he began, completely untouched—
Was Tii.
Hands in pockets.
Expression flat.
“…you done?”
The noble’s jaw dropped.
“No—NO WAY—YOU SHOULD BE—”
Tii vanished.
A burst of wind.
A flicker of motion.
A footstep echo that barely even existed.
He reappeared directly in front of the noble—
who was 50 feet away a second ago.
The noble gasped.
“What—?”
Tii tapped his chest with an open palm.
Not a punch.
Not a strike.
A simple palm.
BOOM—!!!
The armor didn’t dent.
But the inside of it did.
The noble blasted backward so fast the armor tore open from the back plate—
his unconscious body skidding OUT of the arena, across the tiles, and slamming into the barrier wall with a thud that silenced everyone.
Tii lowered his hand.
“Your speech was too long,” he said.
He walked away as healers rushed in panic toward the twitching noble.
Back in the stands, Tii sat down, chin in hand, eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in interest.
Alyndra.
Grav.
Renis.
The three he’d marked earlier.
He studied every detail.
Alyndra’s quick feints and demon instinct reads.
Grav’s insane dwarf-core stability.
Renis’s sharp, surgical counter-timing.
Tii grinned.
“…yeah.
You three are the fun ones.”
Nyx rumbled approvingly.
Rai’ten clicked from the rafters.
Falcon Staff hummed with ancient amusement.
Tii’s eyes sharpened.
“Let’s get to the good part.”
“THE HOOK, THE HAMMER, AND THE LESSON”** ?
The arena shook with noise—cheering, jeering, cursing, awe.
Tii’s three consecutive demolitions had split the academy down the middle:
Half of them feared him.
Half of them worshiped him.
And the remaining handful—the ones worth noticing—observed silently.
But before Tii could face any of them…
There was still one more noble pest buzzing around.
Lat Nokle strutted into the arena with the confidence of someone who’d never once been humbled.
He was half demon, half human, and fully insufferable.
His aura was sharp.
His sword was expensive.
His sneer was permanent.
The entire school knew him:
Lat Nokle — The Most Arrogant Thing Alive.
A favorite of the higher-ups.
Born into status, trained into elitism.
He raised his chin the moment he saw Tii.
“Tch. They sent you? This must be charity work.”
Tii stared at him.
“…who?”
Lat’s aura flared in offense.
“I am LAT NOKLE! The pride of this academy! The one destined to—”
Tii blinked slowly, expression flat.
“…you’re boring.”
Lat’s eye twitched.
Before the announcer even finished counting down, Lat surged forward in a blur of demonic speed, his longsword screaming downward in a vicious arc—
Tii moved once.
A single, small step to the left.
Smooth.
Precise.
Effortless.
And then—
WHAM—!!!
A left hook, thrown with perfect rotation, hip transfer, and Mu discipline, slammed directly into Lat’s right side.
Right into his liver.
The demon hybrid folded instantly—
legs buckled—
blade falling—
eyes rolling—
breath stolen—
And Lat Nokle collapsed in a heap, twitching violently as his body shut down from pure pain.
One strike.
One second.
One unconscious noble.
The crowd went silent again.
Tii didn’t even look back.
“Next.”
The Dwarf-Human prodigy
The boy born of stone and stubbornness
Tii walked back to the arena for his next match, already knowing who awaited him.
Grav stood in the center, hands wrapped, feet firm, posture grounded like an iron pillar.
His aura was sharp.
His stance was honest.
His spirit was steady.
A real fighter.
Tii cracked a small grin.
“…okay. This will be fun.”
Grav bowed deeply—formal, respectful.
“Tii Alpha’leo… I’m honored.”
Tii bowed back, then stretched his neck with a crack.
“Don’t hold back.”
Grav didn’t.
He blasted forward, dwarf-core strength exploding from the ground.
Left hook.
Right straight.
Body blow.
Overhand.
Head kick attempt.
Elbow.
Shoulder bump.
Each strike powerful.
Each move refined.
Each hit thrown with dwarven stubborn precision.
Tii dodged and parried—not mocking him, but studying him.
Then he said the most Tii thing possible in the middle of a combo:
“Your left elbow drops when you pivot. Fix that.”
Grav blinked—mid punch.
“What—?!”
Tii slipped another strike.
“And your right foot’s heavy. Loosen it. Feels like fighting a boulder with anxiety.”
Grav grunted, half confused, half inspired.
Tii deflected another blow and tapped Grav’s wrist.
“You’re telegraphing. Don’t think—just hit me.”
Grav inhaled—then unleashed a much cleaner combo.
The crowd gasped.
He was adapting… in real time.
Tii nodded, satisfied.
“Good.”
Then he changed.
His movements sharpened.
His steps grew predatory.
His aggression spiked.
He hit Grav with crisp, surgical brutality—
a barrage of fists and elbows.
Left straight—
right elbow—
body shot—
knee tap—
hook to overhand—
slip—
counter uppercut—
spinning elbow—
Grav’s defense was sturdy—
but pressure…
Mu pressure…
Tii pressure…
Was overwhelming.
The final exchange came:
Tii threw a left hook feint—
Grav’s instincts reacted—
He ducked—
And—
CRACK—!!!
A right uppercut caught him clean.
Lights out.
Grav’s body went limp mid-duck, collapsing backward like someone had unplugged him.
The arena erupted.
Tii exhaled through his nose, relaxed, then crouched to check Grav’s breathing—
which was steady.
He gently closed Grav’s eyes.
“Good fight.”
Then he stood and walked away, eyes locked onto the last two remaining challengers.
Alyndra.
Renis.
The ones worth his attention.
The ones whose reactions—sharp eyes, tightened hands, focused breaths—told him everything.
“…you two’ll be interesting.”
Nyx growled in excitement.
Rai’ten clicked from above.
Falcon Staff hummed with hungry anticipation.
Tii rolled his shoulders.
“Let’s finish the preliminaries.”
“A NAME THAT SHAKES THE ARENA”** ?
The final fights of the preliminaries were underway, and the arena trembled with tension—not because of Tii this time, but because two other prodigies were about to clash.
Tii sat cross-legged on the railing above the crowd, eating fruit he snuck in (technically stolen), while Nyx napped in his shadow and Rai’ten perched invisibly overhead.
Below—
Alyndra vs. Renis.
Demon mage vs. Elven swordsman.
The duel everyone came to see.
Demon/Human Mage — Precision and discipline
Alyndra’s magic swirled tight and controlled, bright sigils rotating around her hands as she fired blasts of light-magic with sniper precision.
Every spell was textbook-perfect:
Sharp.
Clean.
Beautiful.
She fought like someone who grew up with nothing and earned everything.
Renis respected her immediately.
Elf/Human Sword Prodigy — Artistic, lethal grace
Renis moved like an artist painting strokes with a blade.
One step, one pivot, one slash—
each motion elegant, practiced, almost musical.
Tii watched Renis fight and muttered to himself:
“Pretty boy’s got hands… or… sword… hands?”
Falcon Staff sighed.
Nyx snorted.
Rai’ten agreed.
Alyndra fired a barrage of radiant arrows—
Renis deflected them with blade arcs so smooth they looked choreographed.
Renis struck forward—
Alyndra countered with a flash barrier, the air shattering with pressure.
They traded—
spell for slash,
grit for grace,
heart for heart.
The crowd was entirely locked in.
Even Tii was impressed.
“…okay. These two aren’t useless.”
Nyx muttered from his shadow:
“They would’ve died instantly against you.”
Tii shrugged.
“Yeah but like… stylishly.”
Alyndra’s magic flared too late—
Renis burst inside her defensive range, blade tapping her neck gently but decisively.
A clean victory.
A respectful one.
The arena erupted.
Alyndra, despite the loss, smiled—
relieved and exhausted.
But then she looked at Tii…
and felt something ignite.
She wanted to fight him more than anyone.
Renis looked up toward the spectators—
specifically at Tii.
Their eyes met.
Renis smiled—excited, respectful, exhilarated.
And—
Tii didn’t even hesitate.
He stood—
and leapt.
One effortless bound propelling him from the stands straight into the arena, landing before Renis with a soft thud that sent dust swirling.
The two stood face-to-face.
Two predators recognizing each other.
A grin growing on both.
No words spoken.
No need.
Alyndra watched from the sidelines, relieved Renis would face someone who could push him.
Excited because she wanted to fight Tii herself someday.
The arena went quiet as the announcer’s voice boomed:
“Next match!
RENIS EVERGLADE vs—… uh… let me check—”
He squinted at the clipboard.
“…Tii… Alpha’leo?”
Silence.
Dead, absolute silence.
Then—
Whispers.
Gasps.
Panic.
Recognition.
“Alpha’leo?”
“Did he say Alpha’leo?”
“As in… Pryde Alpha’leo, King of Calamity?”
“And Seasta Wingsea, the Mage of Destruction?”
Adults in the crowd paled instantly.
Scholars exchanged horrified looks.
Even nobles who hated him shut their mouths.
Tii stood there, confused why everyone suddenly looked like they saw a ghost.
Renis blinked in shock.
Alyndra whispered:
“…so that’s why he’s like this…”
The crowd was split clean:
? Those who now feared him.
? Those who now respected him.
? And those who now envied him intensely.
Tii scratched his cheek.
“…uh… can we fight now?”
The sun rose over an arena packed beyond capacity.
Everyone was here.
Students.
Teachers.
Elites.
Families.
Merchants.
Spies.
Even a small diplomatic group from the Light Demon Faction.
The announcer raised his arm.
The crowd roared.
Renis stepped forward, blade in hand, aura sharp.
Tii rolled his shoulders, relaxed, smiling like a kid about to play a fun game.
Nyx purred from the shadows.
Rai’ten screeched faint thunder overhead.
Falcon Staff whispered:
“Do try not to break the elf too badly.”
Tii grinned.
“No promises.”
The final fight of the preliminaries…
was about to begin.
“THE SWORD OF MU VS. THE SABRE OF EVERGLADE”** ?
Dawn crept over the academy’s grand arena, a soft gold glow washing across stone bleachers already buzzing with anticipation. Exhibition matches were warming up the crowd, but everyone knew the only fight that mattered today was Tii Alpha’leo vs. Renis Everglade.
Renis had been there since sunrise, blade across his knees, meditating.
He trained for this.
Lived for this.
And then—
CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
The sound echoed obnoxiously through the tunnel.
Renis opened one eye.
There walked Tii.
Nonchalantly chewing on a barbecue moose-bear leg, meat juice dripping down his wrist, zero shame on his face.
Tii didn’t even look at Renis until he was about to pass him—
Stopped.
Turned around.
And with a mouth full of meat, asked:
“Yo, you want a sword fight for the final?”
Renis froze.
He thought he understood Tii.
He assumed Tii was a pure hand-to-hand monster.
He assumed the Mu savage didn’t have swordsmanship.
But this?
This made Renis feel something very rare:
Excitement.
And fear.
Renis stood slowly, eyes sharp and cold.
“Only if you want to die, Mu boy.
I only care for battle…
and I refuse to believe you can match me blade for blade.”
Tii snorted, shrugged, and kept walking.
But not before Renis noticed…
A pair of glowing wolf eyes flash in Tii’s shadow.
Renis’s blood ran cold.
“Possessed…? What is he?”
Hours of exhibition matches passed.
Nothing compared.
People rushed in.
Students skipped class.
Teachers abandoned meetings.
Even nobles who hated Tii were glued to their seats.
Finally—
“FINAL MATCH!
RENIS EVERGLADE VS…
TII ALPHA’LEO!”
The crowd went dead silent at Tii’s name.
Tii walked out barefoot, no weapon on him at first, carrying the last chunk of his moose-bear leg.
Renis stood opposite, sabre in hand.
The two locked eyes.
Renis inhaled deeply—
“This is it.”
Tii raised one arm slowly… lazily… almost disrespectfully…
And extended it to the side.
Nothing happened.
Until—
FWOOOOOOOSH—
Falcon Staff came spinning out of nowhere, slicing air like a bullet before Tii caught it PERFECTLY in his extended hand.
The staff’s form rippled—
CRACK—CLACK—SHSHK—
And in an instant, it became a sleek Mu-forged katana, midnight-black blade reflecting Renis’s shocked face.
Tii lowered into a perfect kenjutsu stance.
Renis’s eyes lit with fire.
He drew his sabre.
Blade sang.
Wind stirred.
**THE HORN SOUNDS
AND BOTH OF THEM VANISH.**
Students blinked—
Gone.
Teachers gasped—
Gone.
Only the gods and the most gifted could follow the movement.
Then—
CLANG!
CLASH!
SHRIIING—!!
The stadium rang with steel meeting steel.
Sparks erupted across the sky.
Shockwaves rippled through the bleachers.
Two blurs streaked across the air—
one green and silver,
one black and gold.
Renis unleashed everything he had:
? Moonveil Horizontal Cut
? Elven Step Flash
? Everglade Spiral
? Triple-Leaf Cascade
His blade-techniques came out in perfect form—fast, elegant, master-level.
Most would be overwhelmed.
Tii?
He blocked.
He parried.
He deflected.
Just barely—
but just enough.
And every time Tii countered, he said something like:
“Your elbow’s too high.”
“Shift your weight.”
“Your footwork’s late—fix it.”
“No, Renis, stay balanced.”
He was coaching him mid-fight.
Renis felt his skill elevating in REAL TIME.
This only made him fight harder.
Renis poured everything into one final slash—
EVERGLADE FINAL MOONFALL—!!
Tii met him head-on with one clean Mu-style downward cut.
CRAAAAACK—!
Renis’s sabre SHATTERED into glittering shards.
Gasps filled the stadium.
Renis froze—but only for a breath.
Then he roared and charged, weaponless, going for a desperate single-leg takedown.
Tii blinked.
“…pitiful.”
He rotated, caught Renis by the hip—
WHIP-THROW—!!
Renis slammed into the arena floor, the air knocked out of him.
Before he could recover—
Tii wrapped an arm around Renis’s neck and locked in a perfect Mu-style arm triangle choke.
Renis clawed at the ground, refusing to tap.
He held out.
Held on.
Until finally—
He passed out.
Tii gently let go.
Stood.
Walked off with a slight limp and no expression.
The crowd didn’t cheer.
They didn’t boo.
They just stared—
terrified and awestruck.
After washing up, Tii emerged wearing traditional Mu attire:
…which was literally his Mu ninja shoes and clean skin.
But for Tii, that was formal wear.
Renis, Grav, and Alyndra approached him.
Unlike the bitter nobles, these three saw him for who he truly was:
Not a monster.
Not a savage.
A powerhouse.
A mentor.
A rival.
A future legend.
They asked him to train with them.
Tii said, “No.”
Renis sighed, then pulled out…
Elven wine.
Alyndra smirked and held out
demonkind spirit-dream herbs.
Grav raised
Dwarven moonshine.
Tii blinked.
“…say less.”
They drank.
And the three informed him:
“It’s illegal for students—”
Tii shrugged.
Moments later Headmaster Vaelor shouted:
“Actually, uh—Mu cultural law recognizes him as an adult. So, yes, he can drink. Legally. Technically. Sort of. Yes.”
Tii smirked smugly.
Lat Nokle and Selris Rayvern, the other two finalists, glared with pure hatred.
After all matches:
1. Tii Alpha’leo
2. Renis Everglade
3. Alyndra Half-Light
4. Grav Ironbrand
5. Lat Nokle
6. Selris Rayvern
The academy would send these six to the annual Quad-Nation Cup, held on:
Luminaeus — the continent of the Light Demon Faction.
Lat and Selris refused to train, insisting on vacation.
Tii smiled.
“Three months from now, you three will be monsters.
Three months from now, we win.”
The three students gulped.
— IN TWO DIRECTIONS**
Tii needed Headmaster Vaelor’s permission to travel.
Vaelor hesitated—
Then remembered:
A chance to finally win the Cup.
Permission granted.
The next morning, Tii gathered his three students:
Alyndra — Gentle Fist
Grav — Tiger Boxing / Fury Fist
Renis — Hold of Mu
Tii grinned wildly.
“Pack your stuff.
We’re walking.
Back to my boat.
A month-long journey to the southern jungle.
Then two months sailing to the Light Demon Continent.”
Alyndra blinked.
“…We could take a carriage?”
“Nope.”
“Teleportation?”
“Nope.”
“A portal?”
Tii grinned.
“…HELL CAMP.”
And so, the Outerworld Arc ended…
As four figures set off toward the deep jungle where Nyx was tamed,
toward Tii’s sea vessel at the continent’s edge,
toward brutal training…
And toward a tournament that would shake every nation.
