The lunch break passed amidst a torrent of Christoph's discouraging advice; he spoke in a funereal tone, warning me that my madness would inevitably lead me to my grave.
I was nodding at him with a hollow mechanism, while my mind was entirely elsewhere, not caring a single bit about his fears.
We left the hall, heading toward the outdoor arena—a formidable fortress far from the academic corridors, specifically designed to withstand the random energy explosions that could crush ordinary buildings.
As we approached the giant door, the roar of cheering and shouting began to pierce my ears, suggesting that the excitement inside had reached its peak.
We exchanged a quick glance before Christoph pushed the door with effort, muttering:
"I think we're late."
The door opened to another world; a vast arena surrounded by circular stands packed with boisterous crowds of students.
Dust rose in the air from magical collisions, and the scent of burnt energy filled the breath.
I began descending the stone stairs, aiming for a clearer view of this display, while Christoph followed me with features masked in confusion and anxiety, watching the ongoing fight with a suspicious focus.
I furrowed my brows in wonder, questioning what was triggering his terror, but as soon as I reached a spot that revealed the entire field, the truth became clear.
In the heart of the arena, that blonde youth—the one with the sharp tongue and Christoph's friend—was fighting for survival, not for training.
He was facing an opponent overflowing with terrifying power, and even worse was what floated around him:
a "Fire Spirit," manifested in the form of a flaming red Salamander, swimming in the air with a dazzling glow, spitting tongues of liquid lava with every movement.
The scene was awe-inspiring, and the heat emanating from that legendary creature almost scorched the faces even in the stands.
I stood there in cold blood, watching that fiery creature hunt the blonde boy, and I felt that familiar shiver in my limbs...
It wasn't fear; it was a longing to test how solid that Salamander would be against a fist born in the heart of the ashes.
The field was boiling, and in its center, the blonde boy was wrestling with death, not an opponent.
I saw him struggling with extreme difficulty, his body staggering as he dodged the raging fire bolts that were tearing the air around him.
He tried to retaliate with a strike of purple lightning, which struck with a thunderous sound that shook the arena, but it seemed like a mere faint and insignificant spark before the fiery flood unleashed by that student.
His opponent was not fighting fairly; he stood there with a distorted, evil smile, his eyes gleaming with a malice that had nothing to do with sportsmanship.
He was taking revenge, relishing the pain, as if he had found easy prey to practice his sadism upon.
I felt my blood boil, and I clenched my fist so hard my knuckles turned white. I looked beside me at Christoph.
He looked horrifying; panic covered his face, and his breathing was labored to the point of suffocation.
He gripped the metal railing of the seats so hard he almost bent the steel, muttering in a trembling voice filled with terror:
"Damn it... he's going to kill him! Curse it, he truly intends to kill him!"
My eyes froze for a moment.
"Kill him? Here in front of everyone?"
I refocused on the field. The blonde boy had gathered the last of his strength to surround his exhausted body with a shield of branching lightning, his wounds bleeding from every side.
Suddenly, what Christoph feared happened.
The fiery Salamander pounced like lightning, piercing through his crumbling defenses with a concentrated, lethal blow directly toward his chest.
The sound of the impact echoed throughout the arena, and the blonde boy fell violently to the ground, spitting a mouthful of blood.
He struggled to catch his final breaths, his eyes bulging from shock and pain, as he placed a trembling hand on the injury site on his chest, where his clothes were charred from the intense heat.
A terrifying silence fell over the stands, a silence observed by that "Blazing Student" with a filthy smile of victory.
In that moment, I no longer saw a training ground or students... I saw a target that must be crushed.
It wasn't magic that moved me now, but that raw, merciless power that vowed not to let this injustice pass in peace.
The blonde boy was still breathing heavily, fighting to stay alive under the weight of the pain; but for that filth in the center of the arena, his mere survival was an insult to his victory.
I saw him raise his hand in a commanding motion, and the fiery Salamander suddenly swelled, transforming into a giant monster overflowing with lava, his voice echoing through the dead silence:
"Turn him into ash!"
At that moment, Christoph lost his mind; a wild cry of rage erupted from him, shaking the stands—a cry of helplessness and fear for his friend who was facing death personified.
The opponent turned toward him with a poisonous smile, enjoying Christoph's breakdown, and the latter was about to leap into the arena had I not been much faster than him.
I didn't think, I didn't plan; my body moved by an instinct born in the desolate alleys of the Ash.
I leapt from my place, piercing the air in a perfect free fall, landing in the heart of the battlefield, exactly between the dying blonde boy and that fiery monster.
The sound of my feet hitting the ground thundered, and dust rose around me like a cocoon.
I turned my head slightly toward Christoph, who was perched above; he was frozen in place, his features paralyzed from shock and bewilderment, his eyes unable to believe that I had thrown myself into the face of this hell.
I gave him a reassuring smile—a calm smile that did not fit at all with the heat that was consuming the air around me.
Then I turned slowly to face that giant Salamander and its owner.
The tongues of flame were touching the edges of my hair, and the heat was enough to melt iron, but I stood there—a body without a single drop of Mana—defying a legendary spirit.
I raised my gaze toward the blazing student, and my coldness was my first weapon; for while he expected a scream of terror, he found in my eyes nothing but silent contempt and a longing to crush his false pride.
I turned slightly toward that blonde boy lying behind me; his eyes, heavy with pain, stared at me with a strange mixture of gratitude and extreme anxiety, as if he wanted to tell me to flee before it was too late.
I ignored his silent plea and returned my gaze to that student standing amidst his fiery auras.
He glared at me with disgusting looks of contempt; quite simply, he saw nothing before him but a body empty of "Mana," a creature not even worth moving a finger for.
His mocking laughter rang out as he shouted before everyone:
"Oh... look who came, guys! The trash came seeking its own burning!"
The hall exploded with hysterical laughter, and mocking cheers rose, encouraging him to crush me and scatter me in the air.
But I didn't tremble, I didn't bat an eye, and their voices only increased my coldness.
I waited until the wave calmed down a bit, then I asked him in a tone devoid of any emotion:
"Are you finished?"
In that moment, his features suddenly changed; the mockery vanished and was replaced by a demonic face flushed with blood.
He pointed his finger at me and screamed an order to his spirit:
"Crush her!"
The "Salamander Spirit" responded to its master, its glow intensifying until it became blinding, and it charged toward me like a burning meteor.
I didn't move a single step from my place; instead, I focused my entire being into its flaming eyes.
I stared into the depths of that spirit with a terrifying depth, as if telling it without words that I am its "doom" which it was not created to face.
Suddenly... what took everyone's breath away happened.
The giant Salamander froze in its tracks, its fiery cry extinguished, and it stood still directly in front of my face.
That spirit no longer saw an ordinary girl; instead, it was staring into a "Black Hole," into a mass of pure nothingness coming from the "Aether" which is the source of its life and power.
It saw in my eyes the annihilation that swallows souls, so its flaming eyes widened in terror, and its legendary essence trembled as if it had touched Death itself.
Silence reigned over the surroundings—a deathly silence broken only by the panting of the stunned student who did not understand why his eternal weapon had stopped moving before a
"handful of ash."
In that moment where a funereal silence prevailed, something happened that shook the foundations of certainty for everyone in the hall.
The legendary "Salamander Spirit," the invincible creature, slowly lowered its head in a gesture of absolute surrender and total submission, placing it directly beneath my feet.
It trembled as if begging for forgiveness from a being of higher status than its own.
Tongues were tied, and everyone was shocked by the horror of the sight; muffled gasps rose, and whispers filled with bewilderment spread through the stands:
"Impossible... how can the Fire Spirit fall prostrate before her?"
I leaned my body slightly toward that terrified creature and said to it in a tone dripping with threat, while it avoided looking into my eyes out of a physical terror that made its fiery body shake violently:
"Back down... or I will not forgive you again, do you understand?"
The spirit responded immediately; it retreated backward, turning its face away from me, as if fearing that if I looked at it again, I would swallow its essence and erase its existence in a glance.
It began to shrink and wither until it vanished completely from the place, leaving behind a silence heavier than mountains.
I slowly raised my gaze toward its owner; he was there, frozen in his place like a statue of salt.
His wide eyes, filled with disbelief, spoke of every kind of helplessness; how could the Fire Spirit that everyone failed to tame be terrified of a girl who doesn't possess a single drop of "Mana"?
And more than that... the thing his limited mind could not grasp was that his spirit was not just defeated, but it had obeyed me.
It treated me as if I were its owner, as if I were its true sovereignty awaiting its appearance to bow.
I stood in the center of the arena, the wind playing with the strands of my hair, eyeing him with a cold look that made his body tremble without me even touching him.
The mask of the "Elite" fell today beneath my feet, and it wasn't magical power that did it, but the bitter truth they now realized: there are powers in this world older and deeper than their damn academy's "Mana."
My smile widened, and it wasn't a normal smile of triumph; it was one dripping with a promise of vengeance for every drop of blood that blonde boy bled because of him.
I sighed audibly, a cold exhale through which I released the remnants of my patience, as I began cracking the bones of my hands and shoulders in a grand funereal ritual.
"Now... I must discipline one of these bad students."
I began advancing toward him with steady and deliberate steps, with a terrifying calmness that precedes the storm, the air whistling around me, dancing with the strands of my red hair that flew behind me like actual tongues of flame.
He retreated in terror, raising his trembling hand, unleashing a volley of frantic fire projectiles toward me in a desperate attempt to stop me.
But I didn't dodge them... instead, I was simply erasing them with my hand as I walked.
Upon touching my skin, his fires would vanish and turn into dust as if they never were, as if my body were a "Black Hole" absorbing light and heat.
The shock silenced everyone's tongues; a dead silence prevailed in the stands as they watched my "Nothingness" swallow their great magic.