Chapter 133: 133
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The air in the simulated arena did not just go quiet; it died.
The five SS-ranked monsters—colossal, pulsing with mana, built to withstand continental-tier strikes—did not even have the chance to roar.
When Kenshin dropped into the center of the pack and unleashed [Mugen-Zekken: Form III: The Shroud of Non-Being], the ambient mana in the stadium instantly curdled and vanished. The monsters’ passive, suffocating auras were stripped away the moment they touched his perimeter. The oppressive gravity of absolute negation filled the space, turning the arena into a sensory vacuum.
Then came the draw.
[Mugen-Zekken: Form II: Sunder the Horizon.]
No flash of light. No shockwave. No thunderous boom of displaced air. The katana swept through the arc with eerie, frictionless fluidity. To the spectators monitoring the simulation, it looked as if a frame of reality had simply been deleted. The crescent of absolute void slipped through the massive, armored hides of the SS-ranked beasts as if they were made of mist.
For a fraction of a second, the monsters stood perfectly still, frozen in their aggressive lunges.
Then the silence broke—not with an explosion, but with the soft, terrifying sound of heavy ash settling. Where the crescent had traveled, there were no jagged wounds or geysers of blood. Only a perfectly smooth, mathematically precise absence. Midsections, armored limbs, massive skulls—simply not there anymore. The remaining halves of the simulated beasts collapsed forward, dissolving into digital particles before they even hit the floor.
Kenshin stood in the absolute center of the hollowed-out clearing, the blade of his katana catching the light of the arena, completely unmarred by blood or dust.
Five SS-ranked threats, erased in a single breath.
This was [Mugen-Zekken], a sword art worthy of a grandmaster swordsman, built on his ability [Power of Destruction]. The training retreat had opened Zeke’s eyes to teaching in a different way; teaching geniuses was a sport of its own. And teaching Kenshin was the top level of that sport. With his [Sovereign Talent], Kenshin absorbed everything like a sponge. Dare he say, even Zeke’s magic talent—thanks to his trait—paled in comparison to Kenshin’s. Such was the talent Celestials were blessed with.
In the Crucible, where the students could fight all-out without fear of death, this sword style was banned. The only people to survive one move were the Winchesters, thanks to their Nephilim physiology—and even they did not survive the passive effect of [Mugen-Zekken: Form II: Sunder the Horizon]. Daemion survived because of his intangibility, and only because Kenshin was not powerful enough to destroy the space that led to his dimension. Nyssara survived after her first experience by constantly changing her position via [Superposition].
Kenshin sheathed his katana as the simulated arena was released. He smiled toward the professors’ stand, then turned to face the crowd.
The crowd was stunned. It had been even faster than Khan’s lightning parade and much more destructive. Khan’s had been the meter of measurement since he appeared, and Kenshin had blown it by a long mile. To them, the moment he stepped into the arena, he appeared before his opponents, drew his katana, and in the next second, they were killed.
One word: cool.
Two words: very cool.
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The professors stared at Zeke dumbfounded.
"How did you do it?" Aldric asked.
Only he would forgo convention and ask such invasive questions. The trio—Beckett, Camille, and Elio—gave him a mental thumbs-up. His nobility sickness proved helpful this time. The problem was whether Zeke would care.
Zeke raised his head to stare at Aldric.
"I have a talented student." He smiled.
Is that an answer? Zeke did not care for their expressions. What? Can an SS-ranked professor not train a talented child? Do they think I’m SS-ranked because I lack talent? It might not be on the level of these blasted Celestials, but I could become a saint any day. He mentally rolled his eyes.
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Khan was smiling widely as he stared at Kenshin.
"Stop it, you’re making me feel shy." Kenshin waved his hands dramatically.
"Let’s fight."
"Nah. We’re comrades. We can’t fight to the death—that means we’ll hold back a lot. It’s not something I look forward to." Do you think I’m a fool? Fight you now, and one weird thing will save you. There’s nothing to gain. My professor has warned me already. Kenshin thought smugly. And again, if the professor had not instructed him to destroy, he would not have used that sword style. He did not really like using his destruction ability. He preferred [Heavenly Restriction]. He gave a mental shrug and turned to his classmates.
"The professor says he will have to increase your training. You could not entertain him." Kenshin shook his head smugly.
"What?!" Dean groaned.
"What about you?" Rhaegar asked.
"Hehe. I did good, so definitely I’m exempted." Kenshin scratched his nose, grinning.
’You’re taking part in the training as well.’
Eh? Kenshin’s grin dropped as he heard the professor’s voice in his head.
"What?" Aelric asked, seeing the change in his expression.
"Nothing." Kenshin said awkwardly.
"He’s taking part in the training too." Sam smiled as he exposed Kenshin.
Rhaegar nodded. With the shock Kenshin had experienced, it was easy to read his surface thoughts—an area Sam and Rhaegar thrived in.
"You read my mind?!!!" Kenshin roared as he rushed them.
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"That was a very nice display." The Emperor nodded.
"Sire, he was the one who fought with Khan."
"Yes, I pieced it together. That immortal is an amazing teacher, and here you were wanting to scold his class back then."
"Ahem. They caused a lot of ruckus in the early months of the academy."
"Who cares? Who asked the scions of nobles to be that weak? Peace has ruined my empire."
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For the next few hours, the F- to A-rank classes in the different fields fought each other. F class against F class, all the way to S class.
Every student had to fight three times.
In the minds of the S-class students, they knew who to fight and who not to fight. The class of weirdos were number one on that list; at the top was Kenshin. Following them were the kings; at the top was Khan. Then Aaron, then Kai. Kai was one of only twelve students to reach SS rank. And Aaron, even if his fight had been overshadowed by Khan and Kenshin and the like, they still remembered how an SS-ranked monster had been manhandled by his shadow. So it was no surprise that when someone was faced with one of them, they gave up immediately. It was not even up for debate.
Especially as they were all sitting together. When you were called up against one, you searched for him or her—and found the rest of them huddled together. It was more traumatic than the pack of five SS monsters. Only Elijah stood alone. Even then, with the aura surrounding him, they did not dare ’dare’.
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Finally, a worthy battle was announced: Kai vs. Seraphin.
The battle ended in Kai’s victory. As the fight started—in the simulated arena—Kai buffed himself and appeared before Seraphin.
"Sorry, but you’re my last fight, and I have no reason to drag it out." He stabbed Seraphin, sealing her mana, then created another sword and sliced her neck off.
His three fights had ended in victories. He had been set up against two normies who gave up immediately.
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The next challenge was Khan vs. Zephyr. Again, it ended easily in Khan’s favor. As the fight started, Khan blitzed Zephyr with lightning. Before Zephyr could conjure his weapons, he found himself outside the arena.
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Elijah vs. Daemion. As they stepped into the arena for their last match, the academy shook.
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"What’s going on?" civilians in the crowd asked as they struggled to remain seated.
The professors stood up. They too sensed the anomaly beyond the obvious rumbling of the academy. In that moment, Nox and the Emperor looked to the sky.
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"HAHA! I’M BACK!!" A loud voice reverberated around the academy. "HUMANS, PREPARE YOURSELVES. THIS EMPEROR IS HUNGRY!!"
A figure appeared in the sky. Long, flowing crimson-red hair cascaded past his shoulders, slightly messy and windswept, creating a dramatic silhouette. Sharp golden eyes held a calm, confident gaze. A small, ornate golden crown—or horn-like diadem—rested atop his head. He was dressed in a formal black three-piece suit with a white dress shirt and black tie. A dark overcoat was draped over his shoulders rather than worn conventionally, enhancing his regal appearance. He looked down with a cool, composed, slightly aloof expression. Lean and elegant rather than heavily muscular.
His whole appearance contrasted his heavy entrance, but he did not mind one bit.
With his appearance, the rumbling stopped. But civilians, students, more than half the nobles, VIPs, and professors knelt down. Some even lay flat, pressed down, unable to move.
They could not move in his presence.
"Ruarc." The Emperor’s voice cut through the air, lifting the pressure from the people. "You dare call yourself an emperor in my presence?"
