Her Summon, Crushing the Academy's Fight Club

After that little verbal spat, I dropped into my seat. From the side, I felt a piercing glare sink right into my bones.

Lirael was staring at me like she was mentally laying me down on a sacrificial altar.

Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm the villain again today.

But there's no way I'm missing the Mugen Fight Club.

When else am I gonna put my strength to use? Can't let good stuff go to waste.

And so, a few hours of suffocating lectures flew by. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon, and most students were heading home after the final bell.

But not tonight.

Tonight was for bold clashes in the Fight Club. Hundreds of guys made their way behind the Academy. There stood a building that looked like a gymnasium from the outside.

Even through the door, you could hear the roars of excited spectators.

The Mugen Wars — a place where only Academy students were allowed to throw down.

Fighting anywhere else was strictly forbidden.

This is where problems got settled and aggression got released.

But if you were ever caught brawling outside Academy grounds…

…they'd boot your ass out and wipe your mana for good.

That's why what I did — nearly breaking that guy's arm — could've been considered a major sin.

They should've expelled me. But the punk didn't say a word.

I stepped inside.

Hundreds of people crowded around a ring where two guys were going at it hand-to-hand.

Their movements were fast, reckless, and borderline insane.

I smirked.

Yep. No rules here. You fight however you damn well please.

Though fighters usually agree on the rules before stepping in.

Looked like these two were going no-magic.

I pushed through the crowd of hyped-up students.

"Crack his ribs!"

"Knock his teeth out!"

"Hit him in the liver — the healers'll patch it up anyway!"

Such charming little psychos.

I leaned against the wall, watching one guy pound another in the face, while the other threw in a spinning back kick.

Different styles. Different schools. All equally violent.

Hah. This place is crawling with maniacs.

Up above, on the second tier, sat two teachers. Even faculty could attend — as spectators, of course. Dean was lounging in a chair, and beside him sat a mysterious woman in a wizard's hat that shaded her face. Think she teaches the upperclassmen.

"Oho, he really showed up?" she asked with a teasing voice. "So this is the troublemaker everyone's whispering about? I don't get it, Dean. What's so special about him?"

Dean smiled and rested his cheek on his hand.

"You'll see soon enough. Let me ask you something. If a student failed all his exams… scoring zero on every single one — was he picking wrong answers on purpose, or is he just as dumb as a bag of bricks?"

"Well, in our Academy, nobody's ever gotten zero. All our students are prodigies. Failing an exam here takes effort — or the spoiled kind of mindset."

Dean's eyes locked onto me with sharp intensity.

"No matter how hard he tries, he won't fool us. That student's hiding something. And I want to find out what."

A murky tension settled over them.

Meanwhile, the fight in the ring had ended.

The two guys walked off. No one stepped up.

That meant everyone was waiting for us.

The loser vs. the local tough guy.

Let's dance.

Remioku jumped onto the ring.

The crowd was cheering for him.

"C'mon, new guy! Teach that loser a lesson!"

They're calling me a loser? Interesting.

Especially since I'm the one luck always kisses on the forehead.

I climbed into the ring and pulled off my shirt. My body — lean, tight, all muscle.

"Ready to get humiliated in front of the whole school?!" he shouted, veins bulging on his forehead.

Whoever gets knocked out or taps — loses. Simple.

We agreed: no magic. Just fists and flesh.

Physically, he had the edge. Lots of legwork — a kicker, huh?

I stretched my arms and cracked my neck.

My face? Sporting that smug, punchable grin he hated so much.

"Bastard," he muttered and got into stance.

"Three! Two! One!"

The crowd exploded. Some clapped. Some booed. Some screamed:

"Break his nose!"

"Rip his legs off!"

"Hit him like dads used to — but in the heart!"

How wholesome. Such brotherly love.

Remioku charged first — like a rabid dog — hoping to take my jaw off in one go.

Left punch — I dodged. Knee strike — caught it, shoved him sideways.

We circled each other. He kept lunging, and I kept parrying, taunting him with body language, not words. That kind of mockery cuts deeper.

Smack! He punched my shoulder.

Crack! I hammered his ribs.

He kicked — I ducked. I threw an uppercut — he staggered back.

He was a beast, relying on brute force and momentum.

I was a serpent, slithering in close and biting when he least expected it.

"Get ready to eat the mat!" he growled.

I stepped back and rolled my neck. Loud. Cocky. Daring.

"Ready, piglet? You're about to lose to someone who barely shows up for class."

Bam! — he went for a flurry of kicks, just like I predicted.

Body. Legs. Head. Relentless. Persistent as hell.

We were fighting like wild animals. My uppercuts vs. his heel strikes and elbow jabs.

He loomed over me. I kept sliding under, into close range, where size didn't matter — only audacity.

But then it happened.

WHAM!

Right in my face.

His fist crashed into my jaw so hard it knocked the wind out of me.

Something… flew out?

I staggered back, copper in my mouth.

The crowd roared:

"OOOOOH! Knocked his tooth out!"

"The Tooth Fairy's crying tonight!"

"Finally! Someone beat that smug freak!"

Remioku stood tall, grinning like he just won the idiot Olympics. Chest heaving. Sure of victory.

And then…

I looked up. Slowly. Dirty.

Spat blood onto the mat and pulled my lip up.

And the tooth… grew back.

Right in front of everyone.

Like someone hit the auto-repair button. Flesh, blood, bone — regenerated.

Silence.

"What the…?"

"Is that magic?!"

"That loser's kinda badass!"

I looked into his eyes and…

smiled.

Not just any smile — a grotesque grin. One that screamed: You're screwed, buddy.

"Hey!" Remioku barked. "What kind of magic is that?! You're cheating!"

"Kid," I stepped toward him, my grin widening. "What magic? Haven't you heard of natural-born blessings from Healers? Oh wait — probably not enough brain cells to store that info, huh?"

Regeneration.

A passive effect of the Dragonslayers, passed down through bloodlines. Even deep wounds — we healed them without the Light element.

Remioku snarled, shaking his head. Then lunged at me like he wanted to end my life.

And that was it.

I stopped holding back.

No more dancing. No more pretending we were equals.

I grabbed his shoulders —

Slammed my fist into his gut —

He curled up.

Punched his temple — he stumbled.

Elbow to the jaw — sent him flying.

"Surrender!" someone yelled.

"No, keep going!"

"Kill him! Well—maybe not kill!"

I walked toward him slow, like Death in fancy shoes.

Remioku tried to stand — I didn't let him. Kicked his legs — he collapsed again.

He raised a hand — I grabbed it and slammed him into the floor.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

He lay there, beaten, lip busted. Breathing.

Still conscious. Barely.

The crowd went wild.

"Not bad, freak!"

"Atheron, you psycho!"

"That was a fight!"

"He regrew his damn tooth! You see that?!"

Up on the balcony, Dean clapped slowly, smirking.

"There he is. The guy who scored zero on every test. I'm sure he'll shine eventually. We just need to push him the right way."

The woman beside him stared at the ring on my finger. Her blue eyes turned white.

"I see almost no mana in him. Purely physical ability? Or… is it the ring?"

She could sense the pulse of energy radiating from it.

And me?I stood there in the ring, dripping sweat, blood trickling from my chin.

Now that's what I call a night.

I'm fired up. I want more! More arrogant idiots who think they can knock me down!

"Who's next?!" I shouted. "This time, bring me your strongest. Let's see if you're stronger than the 'loser' you all love to trash!"

My eyes burned.

The crowd saw it — the nastiest, cockiest grin in existence. They realized how rotten I was to enjoy pummeling people this much.

After a brief pause, someone stepped out from the crowd.

Tall. Jet-black hair. Built like a damn gorilla.

"Well, come on, twig. Let's see what you've got."

I felt his fierce aura leaking off him like fire. It surrounded him.

But I wasn't scared. On the contrary — he looked worthy. Twice my size.

He stepped into the ring and tossed his shirt. How did that thing even fit him?

We grinned at each other.

Saddler il Triumphant. Fourth-year student. I've seen his fights before — last year he smashed everyone with brute force alone.

"Saddler vs. The Freak!"

"This'll be epic!"

"Crush him, Saddler!"

"Hear those cheers?" he said. "They're for me. They love violence — otherwise they wouldn't be here. Rule time: High Magic and Elements are allowed. What about you?"

The crowd roared even louder. They loved when fighters brought out spells.

Shit. I might be in trouble.

But screw it. Time to go all in.

I gave him a smirk.

"No grappling. Just raw power."

And honestly…

I've always wondered if I'm stronger than this gorilla. If I am — I want to know by how much.

"Fine," he put his hair in a ponytail. "Then let's begin."

Next battle: Magic vs. No-Magic. Who will come out on top?!