End of Inter-Academy Festival II

"Dammit—dammit, dammit!" Jack's fists struck the table, the wood splintering under the weight of his fury. His voice echoed through the room, raw and unrestrained.

Evelyn simply watched, her expression impassive, her eyes cold and calculating.

"How?" Jack spat, turning to her with eyes rimmed in red. "How did I lose to that—that twerp?"

"You were outsmarted," Evelyn said, her tone cutting through the haze of his anger.

Jack's face twisted, his pride reeling. "Outsmarted?" he snarled, but the disbelief wavered in his voice.

Evelyn arched an eyebrow. "Do you disagree?"

Jack clenched his jaw, words simmering unsaid. He didn't deny it; the truth of her words sat heavy between them, as bitter as it was undeniable.

In the end, after the final clash between Arthur and Jack, Slatemark Academy had held out against Mythos Academy's assault with surprising tenacity. They'd defended well, or so he'd thought, until Lucifer had surged forward, claiming the flag and sealing Mythos Academy's victory.

Only in the aftermath did the true depth of Arthur's strategy come into focus—a web of calculations, each string pulled with purpose. Jack had been so certain he'd broken Arthur's defense when he took the Serpentstone flag. But that move had been part of Arthur's design all along, bait laid carefully in the shadows of Jack's overconfidence.

"He preyed on my confidence," Jack muttered bitterly, the realization stinging like salt in a wound.

"Your arrogance," Evelyn corrected without a hint of malice, her eyes steady on him.

Jack's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He knew Evelyn was right: Arthur had stripped away every layer of his strategy, wielding Jack's own pride against him.

"If I could have just used my Abyssal Flames, I would have turned him to ash!" Jack's voice rose, a mixture of fury and frustration.

Evelyn folded her arms, her gaze unflinching. "Don't be foolish. You'd be dead."

Jack grumbled, but he couldn't argue. Abyssal Flames—a Gift of black mana—was a death wish with the Martial King nearby. Only Evelyn, who had reached the peak, could use black mana undetected, and even that was only a low amount, beyond the notice of even his senses.

"Whatever," he muttered, trying to push down the sting of defeat. "I know their level now. In raw strength, I'm still ahead. But Arthur…" His voice trailed off, brow furrowing. "His mind is as dangerous as his blade."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "So, what's your next move?"

Jack paced the room, his mind whirring with dark possibilities before his lips curled into a smile. "Let's raise the stakes. Those shadow-worshipping fools—aren't they up to something on the Field Trip?"

She arched a brow. "You intend to involve them?"

Jack's grin turned wicked. "I intend to turn their chaos to my advantage. Contact them. Now." 

He turned back to her, eyes glinting with something darker, colder. "Let's see how clever Arthur really is when he's fighting despair itself."

__________________________________________________________________________________

My eyes opened, and a wave of sharp, white light rushed over me, forcing me to blink against its harshness. Slowly, the room came into focus—the familiar sights and sterile calm of the academy's medical wing.

"Back here again," I murmured.

In the quiet of my mind, Luna's voice sounded, softer than usual. 'You pushed yourself too far, Arthur.'

I couldn't argue. I'd felt it myself, the wrenching strain of forcing my body beyond its limits. The gap between Integration-rank and Ascendant-rank wasn't one you simply bridged with grit and mana.

Advancement wasn't only a matter of mana absorption; it was a true transformation, a threshold that demanded mastery in both body and technique.

For a swordsman, there were five levels—Sword Intent, Sword Resonance, Sword Heart, Sword Domain, and Sword Unity. They weren't arbitrary stages but fundamental shifts in understanding and wielding the sword. While other weapons followed similar paths, only those at Integration-rank could even begin to unlock these levels, starting with Sword Intent, which required the enhanced sword aura accessible only to those at this rank.

Reaching Ascendant-rank meant more than raw strength; it was a metamorphosis. A swordsman needed to reach Sword Heart to wield astral energy, undergoing a profound transformation to unlock their true potential.

'You made your sword resonate far too soon,' Luna's voice held a note of chiding, but there was something else, too—concern.

I'd just reached Integration-rank. Imbuing my blade with intent, as Lucifer did, was already a demanding feat. But resonating the sword—bringing it to a level of harmonized energy—was pushing far beyond what was sensible, let alone sustainable.

'Astral Manifestation requires Sword Resonance,' she reminded me, her voice gentle but firm.

And, of course, she was right.

"I had no choice," I replied inwardly, mulling over the battle's every misstep.

Jack was stronger than I'd accounted for. He had walked right into the web I'd woven, but his response was something I hadn't foreseen—using his Abyssal Flames in a way that amplified his power without leaving a trace detectable to the professors. It was only by some desperate, last-minute play that I managed to turn the tide. I'd factored in Ren Kagu and Lucifer Windward's defeats as calculated risks, foreseeing how Jack would dismantle them piece by piece. Yet, I hadn't anticipated the raw, overwhelming power he still had in reserve. 

It was a reminder I couldn't ignore.

This win—if it could be called that—was a matter of chance as much as skill. Like my narrow escape from Drake Namgung, it hinged on unlocking my second Gift just in time. And that was chilling.

"Luck is not a strategy," I reminded myself.

If I was to survive here—no, thrive—I needed more than luck and close calls. There were artifacts in this world that would turn the tables entirely, and I knew just the one. An Ancient-grade artifact hidden away, one that, if I claimed it, would secure me power no guild or rival could ignore.

"Winter," I murmured, voice barely louder than a breath. "That artifact will be mine before the snow thaws."

Especially with the field trip looming—the one that was supposed to be a mere exercise but had become, thanks to my presence, far more dangerous than before. Jack wouldn't take this loss as a simple setback. No, he would dig in, sharpen his blade, and scheme. And he would align himself with whoever might help him succeed, even if it meant dealing with the Umbravale Covenant, the dark alliance behind the second-year field trip attack. Jack hated them, and they hated him, but that hatred wouldn't matter if it brought him closer to victory.

Demons held a special sort of pride—a chilling disdain for all other species, black mana or otherwise. While vampires and Shadow Seekers clashed with each other, they saved their true contempt for those born from mana. Demons, however, saw both mana-born and black mana-borne species as beneath them. And Jack, with the remnants of the Heavenly Demon's soul seething within him, embodied that same cruel arrogance. It was a soul forever tethered to the Demon Overlord herself, the most formidable demon alive.

"You need to heal first," Luna murmured in my mind, her voice calm but firm.

The damage this time ran deeper than mere bruises or broken bones. I'd forced my sword path forward, demanding resonance before its time. Now, it would take longer to make my blade truly sing again. I'd pushed too hard, too soon, and it would cost me. To make my sword resonate in time for the field trip in three months—I would have to be diligent, relentless. The resonance would open the door to pseudo-astral energy, and with it, I could stand against nearly anyone below the Wall if I wielded it wisely.

But that was for later. For now, we'd won the Inter-Academy Festival.

The door to my private medical room burst open, and there, as if summoned by the mere thought of victory, stood the three princesses, their expressions shifting from concern to warm relief as they saw me. I managed a tired smile just before they rushed forward, enveloping me in a whirlwind of hugs and laughter.

For now, I could afford a break.