Chapter 126: Chapter 120: Origin Spell
Seeing the last cadet enter, the referees stepped out of the arena. One of them raised his hand and declared, "Let the battle royale begin."
As soon as the words were spoken, Zeke and Cass exchanged a glance. Being twins, they had an unspoken understanding, though there was doubt evident in Cass’s eyes. Zeke nodded, reassuring him. Almost immediately, a suffocating wave of killing intent filled the arena like a tidal wave crashing over the cadets. It pressed down on them, crushing their composure and driving them to their knees.
All except one.
The girl stood untouched amidst the chaos, confusion flickering in her wide eyes as she noticed the others gasping for air. She hadn’t been affected by the killing intent because Zeke had deliberately shielded her with his aura. There was no way he was subjecting her to their combined killing intent, lessons be damned.
Before she could question what was happening, she felt a gust of wind behind her. She turned just in time to see Zeke materialize at her back, his expression calm yet regretful.
"I’m sorry," he said softly, and before she could react, darkness consumed her.
Zeke had struck a nerve at the base of her neck, rendering her unconscious in one swift motion. He caught her body as it went limp and carried her to the edge of the arena, carefully laying her down to ensure she wasn’t hurt. As he stood, he surveyed the others. The cadets who had been caught in his killing intent were sprawled across the ground, utterly incapacitated.
All except for one.
Erik remained standing—or at least, he was trying to. His legs trembled violently, his face pale and drenched in sweat. Yet, somehow, he hadn’t collapsed. This wasn’t because Erik had exceptional willpower or a higher resistance to such oppressive energy. No, Erik remained standing only because Zeke willed it so.
Zeke frowned, his annoyance visible. He had little patience for individuals like Erik—reckless and muscle-headed, always mistaking brute force for strength. To make matters worse, Erik had been trying to provoke him throughout their training sessions, and Zeke was more than ready to teach him a lesson.
Cass, who had been watching the scene unfold, finally broke the silence. "Uh, Zeke... this wasn’t part of the plan, was it?"
"It wasn’t," Zeke admitted with a shrug. "But plans can change. Besides, I need a guinea pig to test something."
Cass blinked. A pit of unease began forming in his stomach. "A guinea pig? Test what, exactly?"
"A new spell," Zeke said, his tone matter-of-fact.
Cass’s brow twitched. "A spell?"
Instead of answering, Zeke raised his hand and spoke with quiet authority. "Origin Spell: Ananta Narak."
A shimmering, runic circle formed around Erik’s head, glowing with an eerie, pulsating light. The intricate symbols radiated a malevolent energy that made even the spectators uneasy. Erik’s pupils dilated, and his eyes glazed over as if his mind had been pulled into another dimension.
Cass’s unease grew. "Zeke... what exactly does this spell do?"
"Oh, it’s nothing," Zeke replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
"Still," Cass pressed, "I’d really like to know."
Zeke smirked. "Well, since you’re so curious... it’s an illusion space."
"That doesn’t sound too bad," Cass said cautiously.
Zeke’s smirk widened. "I’m not done yet."
Cass groaned. Of course Zeke wasn’t done. When was he ever done with just the basics?
"In this illusion space," Zeke explained, "Erik is reduced to the form of a mortal. No mana, no skills, nothing. Just a boring, powerless Olden Human. And he’s subjected to unending torture."
Cass’s jaw dropped. "Torture? What kind of torture?"
Zeke ticked off his fingers. "Being skinned alive, having every bone in his body broken, and my personal favorite—being fried alive after being skinned and having every bone in his body broken. Oh, and there are plenty more variations. You know, the basics."
For a moment, Cass could only stare at his twin, utterly speechless. Even the referees, professors, the Imperials, and Dean watching from the viewing rooms seemed too stunned to intervene.
Finally, Cass snapped. "You idiot! Do you want to break his mind? Stop the spell right now! Maybe we can still save him. I’m sure a few minutes won’t have done too much damage!"
Zeke tilted his head thoughtfully. "You’re right. A few minutes won’t make much difference."
Cass exhaled in relief.
"But," Zeke continued, "time in the illusion space doesn’t work the same way as it does here. It’s been a few minutes for us, but for him, it could have been a day, a year, or even a decade. I haven’t quite perfected that part yet."
Cass’s relief turned into full-blown panic. "Then stop the damn spell!"
Zeke sighed and snapped his fingers. The runic circle dissolved, and Erik’s body crumpled to the ground. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he fell unconscious.
The referees rushed forward, their faces pale with dread. Erik was an Imperial cadet, someone of very high standing that they could not afford to offend like this. If something irreparable had happened to him, the consequences would be unimaginably dire.
One referee turned to Zeke, his voice trembling. "If you try to harm him further, you’ll be disqualified."
"Harm him?" Zeke raised an eyebrow. "Relax. I’m healing him."
Before anyone could stop him, Zeke placed a hand on Erik’s head. A soft light—a blend of purple, green, and gold—emanated from his palm. This light was a mixture of Soul, Life, and Light-attributed mana, specifically designed to heal damage to the soul.
After a few moments, Erik’s breathing steadied, and his complexion improved. The spell had not only healed his soul but also strengthened it slightly, fortifying his WILL. When Zeke removed his hand, the referees cautiously carried Erik off the field, along with the other unconscious cadets.
As the arena cleared, Cass turned to his brother with a resigned expression. "Now what?"
Zeke cracked his knuckles, a small smile playing on his lips. "What else? We fight and decide the winner."
