I Was Reborn in Another World, But I Awoke Inside a Corpse

Chapter 260: The Day They Overcame

Four days had passed within Emberlight. Days of relentless combat. Of falls and recoveries. Of bruises, burns, and resolve.

Each day, the same trial awaited them: the untamed beast born from the core of Emberlight—Isaac's world of living fire and soul-forged law. Each day, they fought it together. Then individually. Then in pairs, rotated to test new synergy and tactics.

They never won.

Until today.

The arena's air shimmered beneath a dome of shifting sunlight and soul-pressure. Emberlight pulsed faintly through the sky, as if watching. As if waiting.

Isaac stood with his arms behind his back, silent as always.

Before him, Irelia, Tamari, Lisette, Kaelenna, and Minvera stood in a semi-circle. Their clothes were torn, stained, repaired—then torn again. Their eyes were sharp. Focused. Confident.

Irelia drew her twin blades, now glowing with refined resonance.

Tamari cracked her knuckles, faint arcs of lightning dancing from wrist to elbow.

Lisette slid a silver ink stylus into her glove like a dagger.

Kaelenna plucked a faint chord on her harp, the sound soothing and precise.

Minvera strapped on her newest unstable gauntlet and whispered, "Try not to explode."

Isaac smiled faintly.

He raised his hand.

The beast was summoned.

As always, it landed in silence—graceful, terrible, magnificent. But now its presence no longer caused the girls to flinch. They didn't brace in fear.

They moved.

—

The Final Trial

Tamari dashed in, fists ablaze, drawing the first attack. The beast met her charge with a roar, but its strike missed—barely. She ducked under the second and spun wide.

"Min!" she called.

A blast of golden sparks erupted from Minvera's side turret, striking the beast's flank. Simultaneously, her traps activated—force mine, arc snare, stasis field. One leg froze mid-motion.

Lisette stepped in, sketching symbols midair that unraveled into white chains, seizing the beast's shadow.

"Now!" she called, as her voice echoed through the dust.

Kaelenna's hymn began—not soft this time, but resonant. It twisted the air around them, harmonizing with the Emberlight itself. The beast shuddered, momentarily dazed.

Irelia vanished in a flash, reappearing mid-air—her blade thrust downward into the beast's shoulder.

The creature roared.

Its tail whipped across the battlefield—Minvera shielded herself with a snap-deployed construct. Tamari caught the recoil with both palms, sliding back but holding firm.

Lisette redirected the attack with a mirror glyph—Kaelenna sustained their flow with her stabilizing aura, minimizing all chaos.

Then, as one, they struck.

Tamari launched the beast upward with a thunder punch.

Irelia flash-stepped above it and drove both blades down.

Lisette painted a sky-chain and tethered the creature in mid-air.

Minvera launched her final creation—a bladed sphere of condensed magic that detonated in a perfect, silent pulse.

Kaelenna's voice crescendoed into a command of sealing harmony.

The beast hit the ground.

Hard.

And didn't rise.

—

Silence. Then Breath. Then Laughter.

They stood still for a long moment.

Then Kaelenna exhaled. Tamari let out a whoop and pumped her fist. Lisette smiled faintly, already pulling out a new page to draw what just happened. Minvera fell backward, giggling at the sky.

Irelia just said, "That's a win."

Isaac approached them slowly.

"Well," he said simply. "You've done it."

He walked around the fallen beast and placed a hand over its chest. "Four days ago, it was your wall. Now, it's your milestone."

He waved his hand, and the beast dissolved into sparks, its energy absorbed back into the land.

"From now on," Isaac continued, "you won't be tested against the same. You'll face the unexpected. The illogical. The chaotic."

Minvera sat up. "What, like you?"

Isaac smirked. "Exactly."

The five girls sat together under the blazing sky of Emberlight, knowing that for all the pain, today was the day they'd conquered something impossible.

And from the heights of Arx Aurelia, that spark would not go unnoticed for much longer.

Chapter 261 – Stand Alone

The skies of Emberlight shimmered faintly as Isaac stood atop a crystalline spire, watching from afar. Below him stretched the trial field—vast, ever-shifting terrain molded by the will of Emberlight. The ground pulsed with a primal rhythm. It was alive, reacting not to Isaac's commands, but to the presence of those within it.

Today's trial was different.

The five girls stood apart, each facing her own zone, her own beast.

No teamwork. No shared strategies. Just one question: Could they survive when truly alone?

Tamari

Tamari cracked her knuckles, golden eyes burning with anticipation. Her opponent was a colossal horned beast plated with obsidian armor. Its massive hooves shattered the ground as it charged.

She roared and rushed to meet it head-on.

But the first blow stunned her—not because it hurt, but because it didn't move the beast at all.

Her fists, reinforced by magic and training, did nothing.

The monster retaliated with a ground slam that sent her flying into a jagged rock wall. Dust filled the air.

Tamari stood, blood on her lip. "So… brute strength won't cut it."

She started pacing, circling the beast instead of charging. Her eyes scanned the arena.

A half-buried boulder. A crumbling ledge. Loose shale. She smiled.

Tamari baited the beast with swift feints, drawing it toward a narrow pass. As it lunged, she used the slope to launch herself up, slamming both legs down into its unarmored back.

The moment it staggered, she triggered a small detonation—one of Minvera's old pressure bombs she had "borrowed."

The beast howled, collapsed—and Tamari stood over it, breathing hard, pride in her narrowed eyes.

Minvera

Minvera's opponent was agile, like a lightning fox made of bone and sparks.

The moment the trial began, it released a pulse—a dampening wave that short-circuited half her gadgets.

"No fair!" she shouted, ducking as a tail of plasma seared the air above her.

Her monocle sparked and shut off. Her defensive gloves buzzed dead. All she had left was her utility belt—and her brain.

"Sparks and ink," she muttered. "Let's see if old school still works."

She pulled out a weighted throwing pen—an obsolete tool she'd made months ago. Then a vial of her strongest adhesive.

Dodging wildly, she threw the adhesive at the beast's feet, then launched the pen like a dart into the ground. The result: an arcane tripline, glowing faintly.

The beast lunged. It didn't see the trap.

It hit the line—and tripped. Just long enough.

Minvera leapt onto its back and jammed her emergency sparkcore into the creature's spine.

The resulting shockwave sent them both flying—but only she stood up afterward.

Covered in soot, hair singed, she raised a fist. "Inventor wins."

Lisette

Lisette's beast was… silent.

A white, antlered predator with mirrored skin that shimmered as it moved, absorbing light and thought alike.

Her illusions shattered against it. Her fox tail twitched in anxiety.

"Not working," she murmured, drawing silver lines in the air with her pen. "Fine. Let's try memory."

She closed her eyes. Recalled the warmth of Emberlight. The first time she saw Kaelenna laugh. The moment Isaac gave her the fruit.

With trembling fingers, she sketched those memories into her sigils—not to deceive, but to anchor herself.

The beast approached. It opened its jaws.

Lisette met it with a drawing held aloft, one that pulsed with personal truth.

The beast paused.

Her ink glowed brighter than its mirrored hide.

And when it lunged again, she didn't run.

She darted under its body and marked its chest with a rune of exposure—one that revealed all falsehoods.

The beast screamed as its own illusions crumbled—and Lisette stepped away, victorious, barely a whisper on her lips.

Kaelenna

Kaelenna's arena was a closed chamber of stone and echo.

Her beast was tall, spectral, and loud—its shriek could stun the bones from a man.

She winced as the first blast hit her.

"I can't… sing through that…" she whispered.

Her harp glowed faintly on her back. Her fingers trembled.

The next shriek forced her to her knees.

But she heard something else in the noise—a pattern.

Not just sound. It was disharmony.

And she, of all people, knew how to restore harmony.

Gritting her teeth, Kaelenna stood.

She didn't play a song this time. She plucked one note—low and soft.

Then another. And another.

The sound was like dew on morning leaves. Gentle. Alive.

It wove into the shriek, softened it, rebalanced it.

The beast faltered.

Kaelenna walked forward slowly, her notes resonating. One by one, the violent frequencies fell under her sway—until the beast bowed its head, stilled, and turned to mist.

Irelia

Irelia faced herself.

A mirror-beast. It reflected her soulweaving powers perfectly. Every time she attacked, it attacked back—with her moves, her mana signature, her emotions.

She was pushed back, bleeding from shallow cuts, vision blurred.

"I don't want to fight you," she whispered.

And that's when it lunged again.

But she didn't resist this time.

She closed her eyes… and embraced it.

Her threads extended—not to bind, but to understand. To communicate.

And for the first time, the beast paused.

Her soulweave curved inward.

"I accept you," she said aloud. "Even the part of me that's afraid."

The mirror cracked.

The beast shivered… and dissolved.

Isaac watched all of this in silence. When each girl returned to the center, he simply nodded once.

"You each faced yourself," he said. "And survived."

They looked at him, eyes burning with a new light.

They weren't students anymore.

They were rising warriors.

Chapter 262: Return of the Five Shadows

The morning sun cast a pale glow over the marble towers of Arx Aurelia, gilding the academy's spires in gold. Mist lingered at the edges of the campus grounds, curling around the statues that lined the courtyard walkways. Students moved about in clusters, their voices low with excitement and tension—rumors had been swirling for days.

And then, without fanfare or announcement, they returned.

Irelia stepped forward first, her coat fluttering slightly as the breeze stirred. She walked with a quiet precision—less like a student, more like a sword drawn halfway from its sheath. Beside her, Tamari's feline ears twitched at every whisper, but her expression remained placid. Lisette followed a step behind, graceful as always, though her eyes held a focused intensity they had never carried before. Kaelenna's gaze swept the courtyard like a predator sizing up prey, while Minvera, calm and silent, moved as if the noise of the world no longer touched her.

The five of them walked side by side, neither hurried nor hesitant. As they passed through the gates, conversation around them stopped. For a moment, silence ruled the academy.

"…Wasn't that Irelia? I thought she got injured last month."

"Tamari too. Didn't she fail her elemental control class?"

"They vanished again, didn't they? With him."

The name was never said aloud, but everyone knew who "him" referred to. Isaac. The soulbound man. The monster who walked like a student. The one who forged a world.

In hushed tones, theories bloomed.

"Maybe they became his disciples…"

"I heard he's forming his own faction."

"I bet they're just getting special treatment."

Behind closed doors, some instructors frowned. Others simply smiled knowingly. After all, the Seasonal Advancement Trials were just two days away. If the five had grown stronger, it would be revealed soon enough.

The girls made their way to one of the inner courtyards, far from prying eyes. It was quiet here, shielded by flowering trees and mana-carved stone.

"We've stirred the bees," Lisette murmured with a smirk, resting her hand on the pommel of her now-refined sword. "I hope they sting harder than they gossip."

Tamari stretched lazily, though her movements were precise, coiled with power. "Let them talk. I remember when I couldn't summon even a proper flame. Now I can burn through a beast's hide in seconds."

Kaelenna sat on a low bench, closing her eyes as strands of dark mist coiled at her fingertips—subtle but refined. "They think we vanished for leisure. They don't know we bled to earn this calm."

Minvera didn't speak, but the ground beneath her pulsed faintly in response to her presence. Earth, once passive under her feet, now listened when she walked.

Irelia finally broke the silence. "Two days. Then it won't matter what they whisper. They'll see it."

There was a flicker of mutual understanding between them—not arrogance, but certainty. They had survived beasts born of instinct, defied their own limits, and returned not just stronger… but changed.

The academy bell tolled.

Its deep tone rang across every corridor and courtyard, commanding silence and attention. A voice followed it, amplified by magic.

"All students: the Seasonal Advancement Trial will commence in two days' time."

Whispers turned to stunned silence.

"This trial will test both individual prowess and group coordination. Those who succeed will earn formal advancement, new class permissions, and resource access. Those who fail…"

A pause.

"…will remain as they are, until the next trial."

As the announcement faded, students exchanged nervous glances. Tension sparked across every hallway. Study groups formed. Sparring arenas filled. The pressure of the trial settled like a storm cloud over the campus.

The five girls said nothing. Irelia simply turned, her hair catching the wind, and began walking toward the dormitory. The others followed.

They didn't need to train anymore. Their test was coming.

And when it arrived, the world would finally see what Isaac's shadows had become.

Chapter 263: Whispered Thunder Before the Storm

Morning came with sharp clarity.

The campus of Arx Aurelia buzzed with anticipation. Banners fluttered above the central testing grounds, where stone platforms shimmered with runes and enchantments. Students poured into viewing galleries. Instructors gathered with faint smiles, seated high in marble towers overseeing the exam. The air trembled—not from heat or magic, but from expectation.

No one was late. No one dared be.

Irelia stood in the preparation circle alongside the others. She didn't speak. None of them did. Not because they feared the trial—but because they had already faced worse.

Not a word passed between them, but there was a resonance. A tension woven between their gazes, like the snap of a pulled bowstring. They knew what was coming.

And so did their audience.

"I can't believe they're even here," muttered a second-year. "They barely passed the last trial."

"I heard they were gone for nearly a week. Skipped classes, missed drills…"

"They look calm," someone else whispered, watching Irelia quietly adjust her gloves. "Too calm."

Nearby, Tamari cracked her knuckles. The sound echoed like distant thunder. She didn't stretch. She didn't yawn. Her muscles were coiled like steel springs, her tail flicking once behind her—just enough to knock the dirt from her boots. Her eyes never left the center arena.

Minvera crouched with a screw in her teeth, fiddling with something small in her palm. Sparks danced between her fingers as she assembled a contraption made of rune-etched gears and wire-thin glyph threads. A soft whirrr emerged, followed by a faint buzz as the device floated beside her, stabilized.

Lisette dipped her finger in silver ink, absentmindedly drawing sigils in the air that faded moments later. One resembled a bird, another a gate. All were faint—until one stayed. A silver wolf, quiet and proud, shimmered into place before fading.

Kaelenna hummed to herself, soft and low. A ripple pulsed across the stone floor, subtle yet palpable. Even the scattered birds overhead paused in flight, momentarily entranced.

And still, the students watching saw only oddities. They didn't see what had been forged in Emberlight. Not yet.

A formal voice rang out.

"By order of Arx Aurelia's Council, the Seasonal Advancement Trial now begins!"

The crowd hushed.

"This year's first stage: Evaluation by Combat Expression. Pairs will be drawn at random. Battle not to injury—but to submission or incapacitation. All techniques allowed."

A board lit up with arcane light, names shifting.

Pairs began forming.

Students stepped forward.

Spells collided. Shields shattered. Cheers rose and fell as duel after duel concluded. But the instructors? They waited. Their eyes flicked again and again toward one cluster.

The five shadows.

Then it came.

The board shimmered again.

Match 19: Tamari vs. Cedric Harrow

A hush.

Cedric, a proud third-year known for his shield-breaker spear style, cracked his neck. "Finally. Let's see what kind of pet he's training."

Tamari stepped onto the platform without a word.

Irelia whispered, "Don't kill him."

Tamari grinned, tail swaying. "No promises."

The duel began.

Cedric surged forward, speartip igniting with a kinetic surge. Tamari didn't flinch. She leaned forward—and vanished.

The impact shook the floor.

No one saw the movement, only the aftermath: Cedric flying backward, crashing into the warded barrier, coughing as his chestplate cracked.

Tamari stood at the center, dust curling around her feet. Her fist still glowed with battle-kinetic heat. Her hair fluttered as if caught in a phantom storm.

The arena judge blinked. "…Winner: Tamari."

The silence was louder than any applause.

Then the whispers began again—this time, not with doubt. With fear.

Back in the preparation circle, Minvera let out a soft whistle.

"Well, they're definitely not ignoring us anymore."

Lisette smiled, finishing a new sigil: this one shaped like a blade.

Kaelenna's hum deepened, and distant tremors rolled across the earth like a drumbeat.

Irelia closed her eyes. A single thread of golden soullight appeared between her fingers, delicate but firm. Her voice was calm.

"We show them one by one. Then together."

Chapter 264: Blueprints of Chaos

The murmurs hadn't died down since Tamari's one-hit victory.

She had walked off the platform with a casual stretch, leaving behind a trail of stunned expressions and recalculating minds. The instructors whispered among themselves, glancing at clipboards etched with observational runes. Something unspoken had shifted—and it was only the beginning.

The dueling platform lit up again.

Match 22: Minvera Crosswright vs. Kestrel Dawnridge

There was a pause.

Kestrel was a known name—a prodigy artificer from one of the noble houses, famed for his crystal constructs and precision energy circuits. His inventions were polished, elegant, and predictably effective.

Minvera stood and spat a small gear into her palm.

"Guess it's my turn to make a mess."

Kestrel was already on the field, arms crossed, gaze narrowed.

He wore his house's violet combat robes, embroidered with geometric mana lines. Several silver drones hovered at his side, sleek and symmetrical. Everything about him gleamed—clean, ordered, pristine.

When Minvera entered the ring, the contrast was jarring.

Oil-stained gloves. Goggles pushed up into her hair. A crooked belt carrying coils, glyph scrolls, and several mystery containers strapped together with copper wiring. A floating orb buzzed erratically beside her, its glow flickering like a nervous candle.

Kestrel frowned. "Did you forget to calibrate your mess before arriving?"

Minvera smirked. "Oh, it's calibrated. For chaos."

"Begin!"

Kestrel moved fast—his drones surged forward in a perfect formation, firing precision beams meant to paralyze, disarm, and disable.

Minvera ducked behind her orb. The first few shots struck it—and the orb exploded in a puff of blue smoke and confetti.

The crowd blinked.

Kestrel hesitated. "What—"

That was all she needed.

Minvera hurled a pressure bomb with one hand and tossed a metal rod with the other. The rod slammed into the ground—activating a shock glyph that pulsed in all directions. The pressure bomb detonated midair, not with fire, but a concussive inversion—a twisting vacuum that sucked in air, drones, and even Kestrel's next command rune.

Kestrel shouted, "Override!"

His drones realigned. One stabilized. The other didn't.

It spun wildly and crashed into his shoulder, throwing him off balance.

Minvera flipped a switch on her belt. A drone of her own—one that looked like it was stitched together from scrap and raw willpower—came to life. It buzzed with wild energy and launched toward Kestrel, spewing glyphs in random directions.

Except they weren't random.

Every glyph struck a weak point in his movement: foot placement, stance rhythm, spell timing. It was improvisation so chaotic, it became strategy.

Kestrel's face turned red. "You're not an artificer. You're a hazard!"

"I prefer 'innovator of applied mayhem,'" Minvera replied, snapping her fingers.

A final device—round and humming—rolled under his feet. It exploded in a cascade of harmless sparks… and one massive flash of blinding light.

When the smoke cleared, Kestrel was flat on the ground, coughing, disarmed, and blinking furiously.

Minvera stood beside him, goggles down, arms crossed, surrounded by slowly deactivating junk-tech.

The judge hesitated.

"…Winner: Minvera Crosswright."

There was no cheer.

Only stunned silence.

Back in the waiting circle, Irelia smiled faintly. "That was… much more controlled than usual."

Minvera shrugged. "I promised Isaac I'd try not to accidentally disassemble the arena."

Tamari leaned back. "You almost did."

Kaelenna giggled softly. Lisette didn't comment—her silver ink was already forming new shapes in the air.

Somewhere above, one of the senior instructors lowered their monocle.

"She created a five-layer interference field from salvaged trash and two rods of copper."

Another replied, "Her chaos has pattern."

"Worse. It has purpose."

The dueling board flashed again.

More names. More matches. But the crowd wasn't watching anymore. They were waiting.

Waiting for the next of the five shadows to step forward.

Chapter 265: Ink That Cuts Through Lies

The air around the dueling field grew still once again.

Whispers traveled like leaves in the wind—hushed voices from every corner of the arena. Tamari's raw power had shocked them. Minvera's chaotic genius had unsettled even the instructors. But now, the tension twisted into something quieter. Less explosive. More uncertain.

Match 27: Lisette Arvandis vs. Corrin Velden

A sharp breath escaped from a cluster of first-years.

"Corrin? The illusionist? He's top of his class in mirage theory."

"Lisette's good with ink drawings, right? What's she going to do—sketch his portrait?"

A few chuckled. Others frowned, uncertain.

Lisette stepped onto the field in silence. Her silver-inked bracers shimmered faintly in the morning light. No armor. No visible weapon. Just a blank spellbook bound at her hip, its cover pulsing like a heartbeat.

Corrin entered from the opposite side, confident and precise, his flowing robes marked with the sigils of the Mirage Discipline. He bowed slightly.

"I don't know what Isaac taught you," he said with a calm smile, "but illusions are my world. Tread lightly."

Lisette met his eyes with a calm far deeper than arrogance.

"I don't tread. I write."

The duel began.

Corrin acted instantly—blades of glass-light split the field into mirrored fragments, each reflecting Lisette at different angles. He vanished into one, reappearing from another. His voice echoed from all sides.

"You'll have to do better than tricks if you want to win this!"

Lisette knelt and opened her book.

One stroke.

A bird.

The sketch lifted off the page, shimmering with silver light, and fluttered toward the mirror—only to be sliced apart by Corrin's false blade.

He smirked. "That all?"

Lisette's eyes never left the page. Another stroke. A doorway. A second. A third.

Suddenly, the field shifted—not the arena itself, but their perception of it.

Corrin stumbled slightly. "What…?"

More drawings appeared: windows, corridors, falling feathers.

He blinked. The mirrors cracked.

Lisette's voice rang out—calm, certain, edged with resonance.

"You paint with light. I paint with memory."

Corrin's illusions twisted. His control wavered.

The drawings weren't just visuals—they felt real.

He turned. A silhouette approached him. Familiar. His older brother? No, long dead.

A silver ink line flickered beneath his feet—binding him.

He tried to speak. Couldn't.

Lisette stood at the center now, eyes glowing with pale brilliance. Her final drawing shimmered in the air: a sword made of fractured letters and remembered pain.

"Your illusions are lies," she said softly. "Mine are truth made visible."

The ink-blade slammed downward.

The mirrored field shattered like glass.

Corrin dropped to one knee, gasping, drenched in sweat. His hands trembled. The specters were gone—but the memory of them lingered.

Lisette closed her book.

The judge stood, voice unusually soft.

"…Winner: Lisette Arvandis."

This time, even the crowd didn't know how to respond.

A few applauded. Most were quiet. One student whispered:

"She broke his illusion… by showing him something real."

In the upper pavilion, an instructor leaned back. "The Silver Scribe family always produced fine illusionists. But this girl…"

"She's not an illusionist," another muttered. "She's a memoirist. Every sigil she crafts remembers something. That's a different kind of power."

Back in the preparation area, Kaelenna smiled gently.

"Three down."

Tamari nodded, arms crossed. "I told you. They weren't ready."

Minvera offered a fist bump, which Lisette ignored—but her eyes warmed slightly.

Irelia, seated in a meditative position, didn't open her eyes.

"She's next," she murmured. "Kaelenna."

Chapter 266: Resonance of the Silent String

A hush lingered long after Lisette left the platform.

Three battles. Three victories.

Each one overturned expectations, each more unsettling than the last. Isaac's name wasn't mentioned aloud—but every student, every instructor, every whisper behind cupped hands pointed toward the same unspoken question:

What did he do to them?

Then the board shimmered again.

Match 31: Kaelenna Virell vs. Damos Flint

A collective murmur rippled through the courtyard.

Damos was a brute—a second-year powerhouse who specialized in mana disruption. Known for breaking mages mid-cast and overpowering opponents with brute force and anti-magic pulses, he grinned as he stepped forward.

"Finally," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Been waiting for a soft one."

Kaelenna stepped quietly onto the platform, dressed in her simple white tunic embroidered with faint blue waves. She carried no weapon—just her harp strapped against her back. Her silver-blonde hair flowed gently, as if moved by a breeze no one else could feel.

Someone in the crowd scoffed.

"She brought an instrument to a fight?"

"She's the serenity girl. Her songs can't stop a real fighter like Damos."

From the judge's platform, a signal flare rose.

"Begin!"

Damos moved instantly—his palms crackled with disruption mana, forming blunt spikes of kinetic force. He surged toward her, confident she wouldn't even last ten seconds.

Kaelenna's hands moved before he reached her.

She didn't speak.

She didn't strum.

She plucked a single note.

The harp emitted a soft chime.

And the world… paused.

Not literally. But in that moment, the air seemed heavier. Slower. Damos's first step faltered. His forward momentum dulled.

He grunted. "What the—?"

She plucked again. A harmony now—three notes in rising intervals. The air shimmered. Wind curled gently around her ankles. Her presence expanded—not with power, but with clarity.

Her voice was soft.

"Listen."

A pulse of aether radiated outward.

Damos charged again, teeth gritted. He swung with force, this time ignoring the pressure—only to find his arm deviating mid-swing. The rhythm of his attack was gone, destabilized. His strike landed wide, off-target.

Kaelenna didn't move.

She plucked again—now a longer chord. Her harp thrummed, resonating through his bones.

Emotion swept through him—confusion, hesitation, guilt.

He stumbled. "Why… why am I…"

"You fight on rage," she whispered. "But your soul was never built for it."

His eyes widened.

And then—his knees buckled.

The entire courtyard watched in stunned silence as Damos collapsed onto both knees, hands trembling. Not from pain. Not from defeat.

From release.

Kaelenna stepped forward and gently placed her palm against his forehead. Her humming deepened, like a lullaby meant not for children, but for the weary-hearted.

"It's all right to stop pretending."

Damos closed his eyes—and didn't rise.

The judge stared.

"…Winner: Kaelenna Virell."

The silence that followed was different this time.

Not awe. Not fear.

Reverence.

Even the instructors didn't speak for several moments.

One of them finally whispered, "…That wasn't battlefield control. That was emotional harmony."

"Songcraft," said another. "Resonant aether in perfect balance with the opponent's soul signature. How old is she?"

Kaelenna walked off the platform with a gentle smile, her harp cradled against her side. As she reached the others, Minvera gave her a mock salute. Tamari whistled low. Lisette simply nodded.

Irelia opened her eyes.

Only she remained.

Chapter 267: Thread of the Soul

All eyes now turned to her.

Not a name had yet been spoken, but the entire audience knew what came next. One by one, they had witnessed it: Tamari's raw momentum, Minvera's orchestrated chaos, Lisette's mental artistry, and Kaelenna's soul-deep song. And now the final shadow stood quietly, her hands resting in her lap.

Irelia rose.

No fanfare. No flourish. Just calm.

Her steps were measured, smooth. As she ascended the dueling platform, not a single strand of her midnight-black hair moved out of place. The breeze seemed to flow around her rather than touch her.

The board shimmered.

Match 34: Irelia Valen vs. Sorin Halwright

A faint buzz stirred.

Sorin was a skilled manipulator—third-year, known for his illusions and layered misdirection spells. His reputation came from never needing brute strength; he dismantled opponents from within. Mental interference. Illusory traps. Confidence breakdowns.

He smiled as he stepped onto the platform.

"Mind games, then," someone whispered.

"A psychic duel?"

"No," another murmured, watching Irelia closely. "Something deeper."

The judge raised his hand.

"Begin!"

Sorin didn't attack immediately.

Instead, a dome of mirrored illusions enveloped the arena. Phantasms flickered—blades, beasts, blood. Whispering voices filled the air: doubt, guilt, fear.

"This is how it starts," Sorin said casually, stepping through the illusions like a ghost. "Let's see what lies beneath your calm."

Irelia simply stood still.

She lifted her hand.

One finger traced a circle in the air—light gathered at the tip, golden and ethereal. From her fingertips stretched a filament of soft radiance—like spun silk woven from moonlight.

Sorin's illusions closed in.

A blade made of shadow plunged toward her from behind.

The thread curved once—and sliced it in half.

He frowned.

Three more illusions appeared—this time memories: her own fear, her failures, the deaths she had once witnessed.

Her golden threads spread like a web across the field. They did not block the illusions. They wove through them. Read them.

Then—one by one—they unraveled.

Sorin's voice cracked. "You can't just—those aren't tricks. They're pieces of your own fear!"

"I know," Irelia said quietly.

Another thread appeared between her fingers. Then another. They glowed with warmth, each pulsing with something deeper than magic.

Memory. Emotion. Intention.

"Your illusions borrow doubt from the heart," she said as the field around her stilled. "But I've already stitched mine into something stronger."

The entire mirrored dome collapsed.

In its place, golden threads shone faintly across the field—connecting Sorin, Irelia, and even the watchers beyond. For a heartbeat, everyone felt something they hadn't expected.

Peace.

Sorin fell to one knee.

He looked up—shaken.

"You saw through me…"

"No," Irelia whispered, stepping closer. "I saw you."

She extended a hand. A final thread danced from her fingertips and brushed gently against his shoulder. His illusions dissipated entirely.

And his tears fell.

"Winner: Irelia Valen."

The declaration echoed, but it barely mattered.

The crowd sat in silence—many unsure why their hearts ached, why their shoulders felt lighter.

From above, an instructor murmured, "She didn't defeat him. She understood him."

Another replied, "Soulweaving… at that level? She could calm a battlefield with a gesture."

Irelia returned to her friends.

Tamari folded her arms with a grin. "You made the poor guy cry."

Lisette gave a faint smirk. "Gently."

Kaelenna smiled. "His rhythm was unraveling. You rethreaded it."

Minvera adjusted her goggles. "You should be illegal."

Irelia sat again in silence, golden light fading from her fingers.

"We're done with the whispers," she said. "Next, they'll listen."