"Final match for the dual category!" the announcer's voice roared across the arena. The crowd leaned forward in their seats, eager, waiting—anticipating a spectacle.
"Elias Astiars versus… Xalier Vaston!"
A collective murmur spread through the spectators like wildfire. Xalier Vaston—top of the combat evaluations, known for both his refined martial technique and his command over storm mana. His name already carried weight. He stood tall, calm, and brimming with a confidence only power could give.
Me?
I wasn't even sure what I was doing here.
As I walked to the center of the dueling ring, I could feel dozens of eyes on me. Whispers and judgment hung in the air like fog.
"Hope you stretched." Xalier said casually, rolling his neck. "Would be a shame if you pulled something before I even got serious."
I didn't reply. I couldn't. I was too focused on holding it down.
The dark mana inside me—it stirred just from stepping onto this battlefield. I could feel it licking beneath my skin like smoke and flame. It wanted out.
But I remembered Kael's words.
"Don't use that mana in front of anyone."
So I didn't.
I wouldn't.
Even if it cost me this fight.
"Begin!"
Xalier dashed in like lightning incarnate, a streak of crackling blue bolts trailing behind him. I barely had time to raise my guard before he struck—a heavy roundhouse kick aimed for my ribs. I blocked it, but the impact still rattled my bones.
"Come on!" he shouted, throwing punch after punch. "I thought you had something!"
I stumbled, evading, ducking low, trying to read him. But everything in me screamed to let the umbral power free. It would be easy. One pulse of that mana and he'd be on the ground. One flick, and they'd all know.
No.
Not today.
Not like this.
Then—something flickered in my chest. Like a memory. Not mine, but still… familiar.
A glowing light surged behind my eyes, and suddenly, I felt it—another mana source. Dormant. Hidden. But pure. Ancient.
It wasn't dark.
It was silver.
Not metallic, not white—silver. Like moonlight dancing on still water. Calm, but infinite.
I reached for it instinctively.
And it responded.
The air around me shimmered.
My veins lit up with soft silver lines, quiet and beautiful. My movements suddenly sharpened—not with chaos like before, but with grace. With precision.
Xalier came again, slashing with a blade crackling with lightning, but I sidestepped it with ease.
Then I countered.
One step in. Palm strike to his chest.
Silver mana rippled off my hand as it connected, sending him skidding backward, shocked.
"What… this mana can only be used ny a pure blood.." Someone whispered in the stands.
I didn't know that.
I have to thank that guy for this.
I stayed silent, letting my body do the talking.
Xalier growled and lunged again, releasing a flurry of high-speed jabs infused with lightning. But my silver aura bent the attacks—literally curving the energy around me like a soft ripple in water.
And when he came in close again, I twisted low, swept his leg, and before he hit the ground—I was behind him.
He turned. Eyes wide.
I met them calmly.
And raised a glowing, silver-coated fist.
One punch.
The light burst outward, blinding and silent.
Xalier crashed down, unmoving.
The crowd was silent.
Then—
"Match over! Elias Astiars secures the final spot for Mana and Martial mastery!"
Cheers erupted but I barely heard anything.
The world felt muted. As if that silver mana still wrapped around my ears, my chest, my very soul. I stood there, breathing heavily, staring down at Xalier's unconscious body. He wasn't injured—just knocked out clean. Gracefully.
Effortlessly.
But not by me.
That… that wasn't me.
My body had moved like it remembered a dance I never learned. My hands struck like they'd been trained for years. And that mana—calm, silver, ancient—still pulsed faintly beneath my skin.
I stepped back slowly, trying to keep the surprise off my face. I didn't want anyone to know.
Didn't want them to see how scared I was of what I'd just done.
The audience roared.
Someone shouted my name.
From the edge of the stage, Kael stood still—his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. He didn't clap. He didn't smile. But he watched. Carefully.
I turned toward the group. Serelith looked stunned, her mouth parted in disbelief. Dante's expression was unreadable, but his eyes… they were calculating. Kaelrix was already grinning, clapping hard as he shouted, "That's what I'm talkin' about!"
"Silver mana." I heard someone say behind me. "I've never seen it used like that…"
"Is it a variation of light mana?"
"No—too fluid. It felt… different."
I walked off the stage, heart pounding. I could still feel the glow retreating from my veins, fading like a dream after waking up. My fingers trembled slightly, but I kept them tucked into my sides.
"You okay?" Serelith asked, rushing over.
"Yeah." I said, forcing a small smile. "Just… tired."
"That was insane." Kaelrix said, slapping my back. "Where the hell were you hiding that kind of skill?"
"I wasn't hiding anything." I lied. "I just… tried something I thought might work."
He raised an eyebrow. "Well, it did."
Dante stepped in beside them. "You didn't move like someone who's just trying. You moved like you've been training for years."
I didn't reply. Just looked past him toward the tournament board as my name lit up in the final slot.
Elias Valen — Mana & Martial Representative
I had won.
But I didn't feel like I belonged here.
Not yet.
And deep down, I couldn't help but wonder…
What else was hiding inside me?
Because whatever this silver mana was—It wasn't the last surprise my body had in store.