Adapt Here, Adapt Now, Young Man!

Trails of shattered starlight bled from Enigma's arms, drifting like celestial embers as its form wavered, dissolving back into mist. Fragmenting, scattering, dispersing into a thousand unseen pieces. It was trying to throw Kirie off.

[ Prioritizing recovery. Suit autopilot engaged. ]

NEOS took control for now, the crushed stars embedded in Kirie's gauntlets disintegrating into raw energy—fuel for repairs, for adaptation.

Kirie barely noticed. His legs gave out. His knee hit the ground. Breathing felt like dragging air through a torn paper bag. His rib had definitely punctured his lung—he could feel it. But the bone wedged deep enough to minimize the bleeding. His sternum? Fractured. Shattered. Pain clawed through his torso like a beast gnawing on his insides.

But the battlefield didn't stop.

Enigma was already gaining ground. Fifty meters away and rising. The phantom gathered itself again, another dust storm surging into existence.

[ Sand protection and sound filtering adjusted. ]

A sleek, gapless helmet sealed over Kirie's face—snug, seamless, an extension of himself. His vision sharpened, filtering out distortions. His hearing refined, slicing through the howling winds.

That last exchange had been more than just a hit. It was a clash of evolution.

[ Suit integrity reinforced by 15% based on Enigma's latest power output. Nanotech replenishment suggested for faster integration. ]

'When we pass the test...' Kirie clenched his fists, glancing at the shimmering cracks that ran along his gauntlets like veins of molten silver. His mind burned with ideas. Dozens of them. Ways to enhance, refine, and perfect. This wasn't just a fight—it was data. A proving ground. A forge.

[ Understood. Optimizing the learning matrix. Expanding open-ended problem-solving capabilities. ]

His pulse was racing, but the numbing agent spread through his veins like a soothing balm. A cool, mint-like sensation crawled through his body, calming the fire of pain. His vision steadied. His focus locked. He exhaled slow, measured breaths, forcing stability back into his muscles.

And yet—Enigma's storm still churned.

Cosmic energy swirled beneath the Coliseum, twisting the battlefield into chaos. Every time Enigma did this, it forced Kirie into defense. He'd been caught off guard once. Wounded into caution the second time.

He wanted to break the cycle.

But right now? He had to play this smart. The strange, half-solid sensation of nanotech bone paste settling into his fractures made his skin crawl, filling crevices of his body he never even realized existed. Tactical patience. Gather more data. Adapt. For now, he'd endure.

[ Bone paste applied. Ready for engagement in ten seconds. Absorbing excessive wind energy for emergency flight maneuvers. ] 

'Thank you. I feel like we're going to need that.' He'd hope that it couldn't regenerate more stars. Having destroyed at least seven already from its three other forms was starting to physically wear Kirie down. Keeping a breathing structure helped stabilize his heartbeat.

The dust settled. Its form hadn't changed. Not exactly.

"More arms?!" Kirie's breath hitched, his eyes widening.

Enigma's warform remained intact, but it had expanded. Multiplied. Not through bulk or mass, but sheer presence. Six arms. Each one moving with eerie precision, fluid and effortless, as if they had always been there, waiting to be revealed.

It looked like something pulled from myth. A war god of forgotten legends, an entity that brought destruction with a mere touch.

But the most unnerving thing? It wasn't making fists. Six open palms welcomed him. No longer a stance of aggression, but dominance.

The battlefield had shifted.

Kirie's gaze snapped to its limbs, scanning for the remnants of the shattered stars—but they were gone. No gems across its eyes. Nothing on its legs.

Instead, four of its hands clutched radiant cores of cosmic energy, pulsing like miniature suns. And the last? The largest?

The one in its sternum glowed with an ominous intensity—deeper, heavier, larger than the rest.

'That might be the core.' Kirie gritted his teeth. One reactor supports all others. If this thing fought like an ecosystem, a singular beating heart driving the rest, then he just had to rip it out.

'Are we able to use cosmic mana for the armor yet?'

[ Possible, but inferior to Primordial Mana. However, it is currently abundant enough to compensate. Proceed? ]

'Let's do it!'

[ Understood. Switching primary energy source to Cosmic Mana. Each use will improve efficiency by approximately 2%. Breaking down cosmic components for optimal harmonization. Wind energy will assist with movement and positional correction. ]

Kirie's suit whirred and clicked. The golden-lilac energy that once outlined his armor deepened into a rich, celestial blue. This wasn't just adaptation—it was synchronization. His suit now pulsed with the same cosmic essence that birthed the phantoms of Astrum Valoria.

Then—an explosion. Not of battle, but of color. A sudden burst of confetti erupted from above, scattering like shattered stars across the coliseum. For the first time, the phantoms halted in perfect sync, their glowing eyes flickering toward the sky.

A voice—smooth, fleeting, laced with finality—ripled through the battlefield.

[ ONE MINUTE REMAINING. ]

"Win or survive—either way, you've learned something, dear freshmen!" Deb's voice faded into the ether, leaving a brief, weightless silence.

Then, like a held breath exhaled, the battle resumed.

"Hope you don't mind me using the same thing you're made of," Kirie smirked, eyes locked onto Enigma with a glint of challenge.

"Do whatever you must to claim victory." The phantom's voice was steady, unwavering. Six open palms hovered, glowing ominously, ready to unleash devastation.

Kirie thrust his thick, braced arms forward. Rings of gleaming silver materialized in the air, forming into barrel-like structures, their surfaces pulsing with condensed cosmic mana.

[ Commencing Double Volleyfire. ]

The moment the command registered, the battlefield ignited.

A storm of pure, unrelenting energy erupted from Kirie's new artillery. The sound alone tore through the coliseum—a relentless, metallic roar like a Gatling gun from hell. The very air trembled beneath the onslaught, each shot a condensed shard of cosmic mana, spiraling like razors through the battlefield.

On impact, they didn't just pierce. They detonated.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Explosions rippled outward, the sheer force turning every hit into a miniature supernova. Steam and heat billowed from the barrels, trailing behind Kirie like a dragon's breath, feeding the relentless cycle of destruction.

Through the thick smoke, a colossal palm emerged. Fingers locked, middle finger extended, its tip sharpened into a spear-like point—a towering blade of force, cutting through gravity itself.

Despite its sheer size, it moved with eerie precision. The massive hand didn't simply charge forward—it weaved, flowing through the air like a predator in water, its trajectory unnervingly smooth, calculating.

Kirie's instincts flared. Something was off.

He shot upward, soaring thirty meters above the ground—but the giant hand followed. It was tracking him.

His pulse spiked. No way was he about to find out what getting hit by that thing felt like.

Kirie twisted in midair, wind magic and nanotech-calibrated flight assisting his every move. Sharp turns, barrel rolls, split-second 180s—his movements blurred into silver and deep cosmic blue streaks, his armor glistening against the magical sky.

To the audience, he looked like something out of legend.

Just then, five more palms erupted from the trail of the first, fanning out like the grasping limbs of some eldritch titan. Each one branched into a different trajectory, closing in fast, encroaching from six fronts.

[ It's setting up a trap, Young Master. Expanding wind magic through hands and feet—enhancing speed. ]

Kirie gritted his teeth. If he didn't do something now, he'd be crushed from all sides.

'I have to redirect this back at him before I get turned into paste!'

At the last possible second, just as one of the massive hands nearly grazed his armor, he twisted upward, a sharp aerial feint, then dove straight down. His body became a streak of silver and cosmic blue, barreling toward Enigma.

The phantom stood still, arms visibly halved, incomplete. Yet the six spectral hands behind him pursued relentlessly, undeterred.

Kirie's instincts screamed. Something was off.

The way they moved… Did they have their own will? Could Enigma sense his intentions?

Surely, a simple redirection wouldn't work.

But hesitation would kill him faster than those hands ever could.

And so Kirie went faster. Condensing bursts of wind magic, he'd go faster, even faster than a few seconds ago. Even faster than now. 

He needed to time this perfectly. If not, then it will evade Enigma and inevitably catch him. 

[ Turn, Young Master. ]

'Now!' Kirie makes a simple redirection with a swift motion within three meters of Enigma, then runs circles around him; the hands crashing and descending on the phantom. It felt crammed, the more hands flattened it, the larger he had to make the circle. 

As the tremors of impact faded, Kirie stole a glance at the timer.

Twenty seconds left.

His options were clear—defeat the phantom or survive to a draw. One outcome was obviously preferable, but at this point, he'd gathered an invaluable wealth of data for perfecting his suit. Still... if there was even a sliver of a chance to win—

'I'll take it!'

Kirie condensed every remaining drop of cosmic energy into a single, hyper-focused point. The sheer pressure of it shook the sand, distorted the air, and sent sparks of higher mana crackling in every direction. His visor locked onto Enigma's silhouette through the mist.

Then—he fired.

A lance of cosmic power cut through the battlefield like a shooting star, ripping apart the haze as it barreled toward its target.

[ New ability created: Beam Concentrate. ]

Kirie held his breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

Was it over?

He squinted, scanning the battlefield for any sign of movement. If the phantom still stood, he was done for. His energy reserves ran on fumes, and charging again would leave him wide open.

His legs instinctively absorbed the residual energy left behind by his attack, feeding it back into the armor. Even in this near-drained state, the suit prioritized mobility—because right now, survival was everything.

"Not enough." Speaks a booming voice from the smoke, followed by lashes of deep blue, appearing like lightning. They encroach faster towards Kirie than earlier, closing in within seconds. 

[ Sense Counter. ]

Kirie's body dipped low, his weight shifting as every ounce of remaining energy pooled into his legs. The world blurred as he exploded forward like a bullet, tearing through the battlefield with a singular purpose. Enigma's tendrils—faster than him, faster than thought—snapped toward his wake. But speed wasn't everything. Turning took time.

And time was the only advantage he had left.

Every meter he crossed ticked another second off the clock. Every second bled into his pulse. And yet, Kirie couldn't hear it—his heartbeat, his breathing, the chaos around him.

Just movement. Just the execution of an idea.

One last...

Twisting his body as much as gravity and wind magic would allow, he closed the final gap. His boots scraped against sand as he planted himself within a foot of Enigma.

Then, with all the force of a mortar blast, he drove his foot upward. A silver streak of metallic heel and condensed mana shot toward Enigma's core, stopping just inches short of impact.

The final moment stretched—an eternity in a fraction of a second.

[ TIME LIMIT REACHED. ] Blaring beeps stop Enigma's tendrils from piercing Kirie's back.

Slowly, Enigma's form began to unravel, cosmic mist dispersing from its body like smoke caught in a gentle breeze. The remnants of its once-mighty shape drifted toward the heavens before curling downward, sinking into the golden sand beneath them. Even as its body faded, its eyes—if they could even be called that—remained locked onto Kirie, gleaming with something eerily close to satisfaction.

A warrior's pride. A challenge unspoken.

"Well done."

The words carried weight, reverberating in the space between them before vanishing with the last traces of mist.

And just like that, it was over.

Across the battlefield, the remaining phantoms—each a construct of celestial energy and the trial's relentless nature—followed suit. One by one, they crumbled into radiant embers, cascading downward in streams of stardust, as if returning to their rightful place within the sands. The arena, once a stage of battle and chaos, now stood eerily silent, save for the distant sound of wind rushing across the dunes.

Then—applause.

A booming, flamboyant voice shattered the quiet, brimming with unmistakable theatricality.

"Congratulations, dear freshmen!"

Even in their exhaustion, every student immediately recognized the voice. The Principal.

With a casual snap of his fingers, reality itself seemed to tremble. A sudden rush of energy coursed through every fighter, mending torn fabric, repairing broken armor, washing away the dirt and exhaustion as if the battle had been nothing more than a vivid illusion. Cuts sealed, bruises faded, and aching muscles were granted a mercy they did not deserve. In mere seconds, they all stood refreshed, their battle-worn visages restored to pristine condition.

"You have triumphed, you have survived, and, most importantly, you have broken a limit!" The Principal's voice rang with pride, its theatrical cadence making even the most weary students stand a little taller.

"But! There is more!"

Another snap.

The world lurched.

In an instant, the arena vanished, and the sensation of solid ground beneath their feet shifted.

A warm breeze brushed against Kirie's skin, carrying with it the scent of saltwater and blooming hibiscus. The sky, no longer tinted with the golden hue of Astrum Valoria, stretched into a brilliant sapphire expanse, where the sun kissed the horizon in gentle radiance. The sounds of battle were replaced by the rhythmic crashing of waves, the cheerful chirping of tropical birds, and—

…Wait. Was that music?

Kirie blinked.

The scene before them was something out of a dream.

Rolling fields of soft white sand, crystalline waters shimmering with iridescent hues, and a luxurious resort rising like a palace from the heart of the island. Towering rides stretched into the clouds, vibrant market stalls bustled with activity, and intricate cooling elements weaved passive regenerative energy into the very air. The place was neither entirely natural nor wholly artificial—a seamless fusion of magic and technology, designed with indulgence in mind.

The Principal stood before them, beaming with the satisfaction of a man who had just unveiled his magnum opus. With a dramatic sweep of his arms, he declared:

"Yes! What follows a well-fought battle is a well-deserved rest! Welcome to Empyrea Solis, your paradise for the day! You will be served handsomely, so be sure to relax as much as you can!"

He took an exaggerated bow, and behind him, the grand doors of the resort flung open—a tantalizing invitation to absolute luxury.

Kirie barely registered it.

The adrenaline that had kept him standing—kept him fighting, thinking, pushing past his limits—finally began to dissipate. The world blurred at the edges, his vision turning glassy as exhaustion rushed in all at once.

His knees buckled.

The suit caught him, servos whirring in protest as his body gave out.

Then—darkness.