No one changes in a week.
Agni's earlier thought had been partially correct. Most people don't fundamentally change—in fact, as years pass, they often become more rigid in their thinking, burying themselves in comfortable patterns where they merely survive rather than truly live. Most humans exist in shallow waters, never diving deep enough to discover what lies beneath.
But this thought of Agni's was also incorrect and dangerously incomplete. He had been ignorant of a fundamental truth: people do change when facing impossible odds, when confronted with moments that strip away all pretense and force absolute authenticity.
These crucible moments change a person forever. While the physical body requires years of careful refinement to develop and grow stronger, the soul—that intangible essence of self—can mature by years in a single day when the proper conditions align. When it discovers its purpose. When it finds what elevates it to higher existence. When it becomes one with the world itself.
Having faced a death battle with Walton in the forest, Agni's soul had gained invaluable, irreplaceable experience. It had found a single concentrated point of desire burning at its core—though he had been unconsciously unaware of what that desire truly was.
Now, finally, he has become aware.
Chain Strike.
That singular desire had caused Agni's soul and mind to race far ahead while his physical body desperately lagged behind, unable to keep pace with his spiritual evolution.
By all standard assessments, he should have experienced an incomplete, failed awakening to Level 3 Mana Circuit Manipulation—exactly like Lyralei's catastrophic collapse earlier.
But instead, he had simply brute-forced the breakthrough through sheer willpower, completely ignoring his body's catastrophic condition. His physical form was teetering on the precipice of total systemic collapse.
The accumulated damage was staggering: being butchered by Walton and barely surviving. Facing Senior Raul and enduring hits that should have knocked him unconscious immediately. Losing an entire arm. Constant forced regeneration draining resources his body didn't possess.
All of this suffering, all this sacrifice, had been spent to achieve a single result:
Chain Strike.
Now he had achieved it. His mind had been satisfied, his soul's hunger temporarily sated, his body had absolutely nothing left to give.
Bathing in the euphoric sensation of that accomplishment, his soul now faced a critical decision: continue forward into oblivion, or surrender and collapse into merciful unconsciousness.
His body could give him perhaps five seconds at most to make this choice.
Just like the last time in the forest, Agni had to make a life-defining decision. And just like before, he had a spectator watching his story unfold with intense focus.
Raul wasn't blind or short-sighted, despite what most people claimed about his straightforward personality. He might be direct and passionate, yes—but he absolutely wasn't blind.
The moment his fingers squeezed around Agni's throat, he felt it.
The neck was soft and thin beneath his grip, frighteningly delicate. He could have snapped it like a dry twig without even realizing it, without applying any real force whatsoever.
But recognizing that fragility had shocked him back to his senses like cold water to the face.
Agni was a glass cannon—all offensive power with no defensive structure whatsoever. His body was fundamentally, catastrophically fragile. The fact that he could absorb hits through sheer willpower and regeneration had made Raul temporarily unaware of the underlying truth.
Agni was on his absolute last legs. One more serious blow and he wouldn't just fall unconscious.
He would die. Permanently.
In the next heartbeat, Raul stopped his descending left arm that had been about to crush Agni's skull into pulp. In the following heartbeat, he moved that hand toward his pocket where the emergency teleportation remote was stored—the device that would instantly transport Agni to the medical bay.
He should have pressed it immediately. Protocol demanded it. Safety regulations required it.
Yet his eyes went to Agni's face one more time.
The expression was simple but devastatingly clear.
Agni's void-slit eyes said with absolute certainty:
I don't mind dying right now.
Raul froze completely, his mind racing. He has to answer that resolve, his inner voice screamed , If I don't match this passion, I'll never be able to look at myself in the mirror again. I'll never be able to call myself a true martial artist.
He made his decision.
Moving with incredible swiftness, Raul's fist connected solidly with Agni's face, smashing into his jaw with devastating force. The impact should have knocked him instantly unconscious, should have ended this immediately.
But Agni's hand somehow grabbed onto Raul's wrist despite being clearly knocked out, consciousness already fled. His body moved on pure instinct and stubborn will. His forehead smashed forward into Raul's chest with the last remaining energy in his system.
"Phase Burst!"
Another crackling sound of rattling chains roared through his ears like triumphant thunder!
Second Chain Strike.
This time, Raul visibly coughed blood, the crimson spray painting the white snow beneath them. He staggered backward several steps, genuinely damaged for the first time.
It had struck his heart, that made his heart skipped a beat
Then he laughed—laughed maniacally to the point where his jaw dislocated from the force of his own amusement and excitement.
This overwhelming rush of euphoria brought him back to precious memories of his own teacher, of his own awakening years ago. The sensation was intoxicating, addictive, perfect.
He took his fighting stance once more, this time with genuine respect.
Then he saw it—Agni's left arm was burning. Not metaphorically, but literally engulfed in flames that consumed his own flesh as fuel.
Instantly, Raul understood the horrifying intention.
He's going to do what Serina did. But instead of destroying his staff to release accumulated magical energy, he's going to detonate his own arm. He's going to turn his flesh and bone into a living bomb.
The sheer insanity of that sacrifice made Raul's blood sing with exhilaration.
He took his ultimate stance, legs planted wide, every muscle in his body tensing with concentrated power.
"LEVEL 7 MANA CIRCUITS X ADVANCED AURA FIELD!"
His orange aura exploded outward, then mixed with brilliant purple flares that crackled with deadly intent. The two energy systems merged, creating something that transcended normal combat techniques.
"TITAN SLAYING ARTS: ULTIMATE TECHNIQUE—LIFE DESTRUCTOR!"
His right hand charged with enough concentrated force and purpose.
The following heartbeat Agni's burning left arm rushed forward one final time, flesh already charring and peeling away.
"FLAME BURST!"
The time itself held its breath.
In an instant, Professor Gareth materialized directly between them.
His massive shield—the Aegis of the Mountain King—blocked Raul's ultimate technique effortlessly, the legendary shield swallowed all kinetic energy with supernatural ease. Not even a vibration. Not even a scratch. The artifact simply consumed the force like a black hole devouring light.
Behind Professor Gareth, Professor Whisper muttered a complex incantation under her breath, her normally emotionless eyes slightly swelling with unshed tears.
Her voice trembled on the final syllables—
"Forced Slumber: Dreamless Void."
The sleep magic struck Agni mid-attack, knocking him unconscious instantly. His burning arm extinguished like a candle flame being snuffed out. His void-slit eyes rolled back, the twenty-four geometric patterns fading to normal human pupils.
His legs buckled, and he fell forward to his knees, then continued collapsing.
Professor Helena caught his freefall with gentle levitation magic, cradling his broken, battered body as carefully as one would hold fragile glass. Without wasting a single second, she teleported away in a flash of silver light, heading directly to the medical bay where emergency healers were already scrambling to prepare.
Raul blinked several times, his combat trance finally breaking completely. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, making his hands shake. He groaned softly as full awareness of what had almost happened crashed down on him.
Professor Gareth turned with frightening speed and smacked Raul hard across the back of his head with one massive hand.
"You absolute dumb idiot!" Gareth roared, his usually calm face twisted with genuine fury mixed with fear. "Do you have ANY comprehension of what you were about to do?! That technique would have vaporized him completely! There wouldn't have been enough left to regenerate! This is an examination, not a gladiatorial death match!"
Raul stood quietly, accepting the continued verbal assault and physical smacking without resistance or excuse. His head hung low, and he kept apologizing in a subdued voice completely unlike his usual passionate shouting. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I got carried away. I'm sorry."
The black mask that had hidden his face was cracked down the middle, finally revealing his actual features—sharp eyes still burning with residual passion, a strong jawline, sweat-soaked blue hair plastered to his forehead.