Magus Supremacy

"Next applicant, Finral Reeve," Gunther called out.

Grey spun around with his mouth scrunched as if he was holding something in—and he was. A bubbling laughter tried to force its way out, but he managed to suppress it… barely. What escaped, however, was a loud chuckle.

"Reeve?" Grey laughed, holding his belly in mock pain while watching Finral step forward.

"I would love to see you come up with something better. At least it's better than Dumbbell," Finral muttered silently, although it was just loud enough for Grey to hear as he took the stage.

"It says here that Finral is a Stage 2 warrior. Hence, the doll will be programmed to a Stage 3 warrior," Gunther announced as he picked another doll from the racks. He placed his palm on its back, causing the mechanical construct to whirr and hum to life, its eyes glowing faintly red.

"Choice of weapon?" Gunther asked.

"A katana," Finral replied without hesitation.

Gunther nodded and handed the sleek blade over, its polished edge glinting slightly under the coliseum lights. Finral accepted it with calm determination and stepped into position before the doll.

"I hereby order for your assessment to begin!" Gunther roared, swinging his hand down.

Finral burst forward in a flash, his katana slicing the air as he charged. At the same time, the doll sprang to life, matching his momentum.

CLANG!

The whole coliseum rang out as the two blades collided. Though the doll's sword was supposed to be wooden, it clashed with the metallic resonance of Finral's katana, producing a high-pitched ring that echoed.

"Shit! It's stronger," Finral mumbled beneath his breath as he leapt backward, trying to soften the force of the impact.

But the doll didn't relent. It surged forward at full speed, its blade coming at Finral in a vicious horizontal arc.

Finral steadied himself mid-air, landed, and parried the blow in a graceful arc. He was about to counterattack when he saw it— the doll's shield flying toward his face at blistering speed.

WHAM!

"Shit," Finral muttered as the impact knocked him back. Blood trickled from his nose. He wiped it away just in time to see another blade flashing toward his face.

Too late.

The sword struck his nose with crushing force, producing a sickening crunch as his vision spun. Blood poured down, blurring his sight even more.

Desperate, Finral swung his sword wildly. The doll sidestepped effortlessly and came in from the side, ramming its shield into his face once again.

Blood sprayed from his mouth as he staggered back, knees wobbling before collapsing to the ground, chest heaving with ragged breaths.

"Ow," Grey winced from the sidelines, shaking his head slowly. He watched the doll raise its sword high above its head, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

"I thought you could do better!" Grey shouted suddenly, cupping his hands around his mouth. His voice echoed through the coliseum, drawing attention from everyone present.

"Who's that guy?" Leo asked, narrowing his eyes to study Grey more closely.

"I think he's with the current applicant who's on the ground," Sage replied, equally curious.

"He looks… interesting," Leo muttered, staring at Grey over and over again like he was trying to figure him out.

"Hey, weakling! How will you feel if I get into the academy and you don't?! Thought you had some pride, but I guess not. Anyway, when you head back, tell Yami sir I said hi!" Grey called out with a grin that bordered between smug and evil.

He turned back to the stage.

"Anyway, dolly, finish the job now," Grey added with a devilish grin.

But the doll, which had been fixated on Grey, turned back to locate Finral—only to pause. The twitch of Finral's muscles was the only warning before his blade shot forward, piercing through the air.

The sword drove straight into the red dot on the doll's chest. It didn't stop there—its tip gleamed out from behind the doll, cleanly impaling it.

The audience gasped.

Finral stood slowly, his shoulders heaving, sweat dripping down his face in thick beads. His breathing was labored, but his eyes burned with fire.

He wasn't finished yet.

"I… I won't be going back, you weakling! And don't call me that when it's clear you're weaker than me!" Finral shouted, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his bruised face.

"Finral Reeve passes this assessment," Gunther declared.

A small smile curved Grey's lips as he watched Finral drag his exhausted body back, his steps uneven but proud.

"Mada…" Rivock muttered again, his gaze locked on Grey like a predator sizing up prey. "That peasant… he's something else."

"He won't make it past this assessment," Mada growled, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. "And even if he does, I'll make sure his life becomes a living hell."

"Next up, Rivock Blackwood," Gunther called out, his voice echoing across the now quiet coliseum.

"Finally," Rivock said with a smirk. He stepped forward, cracking his neck and stretching his arms with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

The training doll appeared before him, already in a combative stance.

"Choice of weapon?" Gunther asked.

"No need. My fists will do just fine, thank you," Rivock replied, brushing invisible dust from his knuckles.

Gunther raised an eyebrow but simply shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said before activating the doll. "One more thing… don't announce my warrior stage," Rivock added.

"Huh?" Gunther blinked, slightly confused, but considering who Rivock was, he let it slide and gave the start signal with a lazy wave of his hand.

What happened next left even the most composed applicants speechless.

The doll vanished from sight as it dashed forward at a speed that defied logic. Not even Grey or Ray could follow it properly with their eyes.

'What the hell?!' Grey's mind raced. 'That speed… it's nearly on par with Yami's! No… don't tell me—'

Ray and Grey gulped in unison, both stunned not just by the doll's insane velocity, but by Rivock's total lack of concern.

His eyes weren't even on the incoming attack.

Instead, he was staring—directly—at them.

"Uhh… is it just me, or is that weird noble staring at us?" Ray asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"Not us," Grey replied without hesitation. "You. He's staring at you."

"Me?" Ray blinked. "Why would he be looking at me?"

"Beats me. Maybe he thinks you're cute," Grey smirked.

"Weirdo," Finral muttered.

Their attention quickly snapped back to the fight.

'Hey pretty boy… I hope you're watching,' Rivock thought, his smirk growing.

The doll's blade flashed toward his face with terrifying speed. The force of the swing howled through the air, but Rivock didn't even flinch. He leaned back with casual grace, the blade slicing past without disturbing even a single strand of his hair.

The doll shifted immediately, trying to bash him with its shield. But Rivock launched himself into the air with explosive power, narrowly avoiding the attack.

As he spun mid-air, wind gathered around him like a coiling serpent. A miniature cyclone swirled at his feet as he twisted his body and brought his leg crashing down.

BOOM!

The entire coliseum trembled.

Rivock's foot collided with the doll's head in a devastating axe kick, but before the doll could retaliate with another slash, he sprang backward, landing a meter away with feline ease.

"Let's finish this," Rivock said, his voice calm but laced with deadly intent.

He disappeared in a blur.

A shockwave thundered behind him as he charged, cracking the stone floor beneath his feet. In the next heartbeat, he was in front of the doll, just as it tried to stabilize itself.

BANG!

His fist tore through the air, breaking the sound barrier before connecting directly with the red dot on the doll's chest.

A violent explosion followed as the impact shattered half of the doll's body, sending metallic limbs and gears flying in every direction.

"Rivock Blackwood passes this assessment," Gunther announced with no hint of emotion.

But the crowd couldn't speak.

Not a single soul moved.

They just stared—wide-eyed, mouths open—as Rivock turned, flashed a smirk at Ray, and walked back to his group like he hadn't just wrecked a war machine with his bare hands.

'Scary…' Grey thought, a cold sweat forming on his temple.

'Powerful and terrifyingly skilled…' Finral thought, unable to look away.

'Creepy…' Ray muttered to himself, shivering at the way Rivock's gaze lingered.

Gunther, unfazed by the spectacle, flipped to the next name on his parchment.

"Will Grey step forward?" he asked.

"Huh? You didn't use a last name?" Finral asked, turning to Grey with a puzzled look.

"I'm already labeled a peasant," Grey replied with a chuckle. "No need to think up a last name. Besides, I might end up with something dumb like 'Dumbbell.' Can't risk that."

With a light grin and calm steps, Grey walked out, ready to face his second assessment.