The battlefield was no longer a place of combat—it was a scene of survival.
As competitors limped away, their faces were marked with a mixture of exhaustion, relief, and fury. Some carried each other, too injured to walk alone. Others simply sat where they were, staring blankly at the ruined terrain.
But no matter what their condition, one thing was certain—
They all knew who was responsible.
Reactions among the competitors varied.
Some looked at Kalem with awed respect.
"He bent the battlefield to his will…"
"That level of control… I've never seen anything like it."
"He didn't even need to fight us directly, and he still dominated the round."
For them, Kalem was no longer just another competitor—he was a force to be reckoned with.
But others were far less impressed.
"That bastard turned the entire round into a nightmare!"
"If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have nearly frozen to death!"
"Next round, I'm taking him down first."
Jealousy, resentment, and sheer hatred burned in the eyes of some noble competitors who had suffered humiliation at Kalem's hands—indirect as it was.
But none of that mattered to Kalem.
Because his biggest problem…
Was Nara.
Kalem had barely taken a single step off the battlefield when a fist flew straight into his face.
CRACK!
The impact sent him staggering back.
Nara stood in front of him, still smoking from the heat of battle, her face twisted in rage.
"You. Absolute. FUCKER." she growled.
Kalem blinked.
"…Huh."
He touched his nose.
It was bleeding.
Nara wasn't done.
"You dropped a fucking storm on my head!" she roared. "Do you have any idea what I had to go through because of you?!"
Kalem wiped the blood off his nose, unfazed.
"…I take it you didn't enjoy the challenge?"
Nara's eye twitched.
A second punch was coming—Kalem could see it in her stance—but before she could land another blow, Jhaeros stepped in.
The Ilvaar warrior, still scratched and bruised from his own battle, sighed heavily as he placed a firm hand on Nara's shoulder.
"Nara," he said calmly. "He's not worth breaking your knuckles over."
She turned to him, still fuming.
"He turned the whole damn battlefield into a death trap, Jhaeros! What part of that do you not understand?!"
Jhaeros exhaled.
"I understand. But you should know by now…" He gave Kalem a pointed look. "He doesn't do things without reason."
Nara gritted her teeth, but didn't argue.
She turned back to Kalem.
Her fists clenched.
Her body trembled with rage.
Then, finally—
She clicked her tongue.
"Next round," she muttered. "I'm kicking your ass."
Kalem gave a small, amused nod.
"I'll look forward to it."
In the noble stands, whispers and conversations erupted.
Some nobles watched Kalem with newfound interest.
"He manipulated the battlefield itself… an unorthodox approach."
"With that level of control, he could reshape any battle to his advantage."
"Perhaps we should keep an eye on him. He could be useful."
Others, however, were not pleased.
"That commoner went too far!"
"The academy should have intervened!"
"This level of recklessness cannot be tolerated!"
Lyra sat beside her father, silent but thoughtful.
She could see both sides.
Kalem's actions had been calculated, not malicious—but that didn't mean they hadn't made enemies.
And some of those enemies… were dangerous.
Her father, Duke Valtis, gave a small chuckle beside her.
"What an interesting boy," he mused. "But I wonder… how long he can keep making enemies before it catches up to him?"
Lyra frowned.
That was what worried her.
Far above the battlefield, in the academy's private chambers, Headmaster Valdris leaned back in his chair.
The officials around him were still arguing, debating how Kalem's actions should be addressed.
Some wanted punishment.
Others wanted him studied.
But Valdris?
He just smiled.
"Let them fight among themselves."
One thing was certain—
This tournament… had just gotten far more interesting.