Magus Supremacy

SWOOSH!

BANG!

The sound of the canteen doors bursting open thundered through the hall, and in the next instant, a man leapt into the air, landing a few metres away from the fighting duo.

"I thought we made it clear that the canteen was not a place for fights," a calm voice resounded—and then...

BANG!

A deafening crash followed as a strange energy slammed into Mada, throwing him out of the air with brutal force. His body smashed into the canteen wall, stone splintering on impact as blood sprayed violently from his mouth.

As for Grey, someone appeared behind him in a blur of speed. A sharp hand struck his neck in a precise karate chop. The lightning around Grey's hands and eyes flickered, then vanished instantly. His body slumped forward and hit the ground with a heavy thud.

"Who's that?" a student in the crowd muttered, eyes wide as a thick cloud of dust billowed across the canteen, obscuring everyone's vision.

"Oh snap! I don't even need to see who that is to know," Rivock said grimly. "Mada is in for a serious scolding."

As the dust settled, the figure came into view.

Muscles carved through years of battle and bloodshed pressed against the fitted combat gear he wore. A crimson scarf trailed behind him, fluttering like the banner of a victorious general returning from war.

Two longswords rested at his waist, their obsidian sheaths hiding the ominous shine of their edges.

His hair, ash-blonde and swept back, revealed a sharp brow. His eyes burned like molten amber—restless, unyielding, and far too keen. The weight of his presence pressed down on the room harder than a Ki burst. Even Mada, arrogant and unruly as ever, straightened unconsciously under the shadow of his brother.

Gunther Slade was here. Mada's brother.

A deep frown creased Gunther's face as his sharp gaze swept across the ruined canteen, taking in the destruction. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head with a sigh that carried both disappointment and finality.

"Sir Gunther…"

"Shit! What's going to happen to them now?"

"Yeah! The peasant is cooked for sure, but the descendant might just be spared."

"But honestly, that peasant showed guts. Standing up to a descendant is no joke. Everyone knows he couldn't win, but his willpower was strong."

"And I'll admit… his speech just now—it actually moved me. It was inspiring, even touching."

"Tch! Empty talk without strength is meaningless. What's the use of ambition when he can't back it up? For daring to fight a descendant, especially here in the canteen, his punishment will be brutal. The descendant will walk free, like always. What good will his words do him then?"

"For years, nothing has changed in this academy. Nobody has ever had the courage to defy those who bully the weak. But here… a mere peasant just did. Even though he may not achieve much, the thought of someone daring to stand up—it's heartwarming."

"I just hope he doesn't get expelled because of this…"

Those in the yellow band area could be heard whispering and debating among themselves about what they had just witnessed as they awaited Gunther's judgment. The man stood unmoving, as if carved from stone, staring coldly at the two unconscious warriors.

"Damn it! What has Grey gotten himself into this time?" Finral muttered, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles whitened while his eyes never left Gunther.

"I hope he doesn't get kicked out… not after standing up to a direct descendant, and in the canteen of all places." Ray whispered, his voice low, filled with dread.

'I was wrong,' Thalos thought with a heavy sigh as he slowly facepalmed himself. 'I thought he had similarities with my former master, but I was mistaken. This kid is rash, reckless, and too hotheaded compared to that great man.

Yes, they both wield magic and carry themselves with a spark of something greater, but this boy… he doesn't only lack restraint, he runs headfirst into disaster. You know you are not strong enough. You know your opponent is stronger. Yet you still challenge him?

What sort of logic is that? Foolish boy. The decision was to lay low, to gather strength before striking at the descendants. But no, he chooses to burn everything in one foolish spark. Oh well, whatever happens… happens.' The gargoyle shrugged, remaining seated as though none of it concerned him.

Slowly, the unconscious duo stirred, groans slipping past their lips. Their eyes opened at the same time, flaring wide as they both found Gunther's molten gaze fixed on them.

Mada smirked faintly, already savoring what he thought would be Grey's doom.

'That's what you get for crossing me, peasant. Now, with my brother here, you're—'

"Mada! What the hell did you do?!" Gunther's roar cracked through the hall like thunder, cutting off the descendant's thoughts. His glare burned into Mada with terrifying weight.

"Wh… what did I do, brother?" Mada asked, his face pale with confusion.

"Just because you are strong and a direct descendant, does that give you the right to pick fights whenever you please? How many times have I warned you against your hotheadedness?!" Gunther's voice shook the room, his Ki flaring visibly, rippling the air around him like a storm barely contained.

"Bu… but br—"

"Shut the hell up!" Gunther snapped, his words as sharp as blades. Mada gulped loudly, his confidence evaporating under that glare.

"What were you about to do just now?!" Gunther thundered. "If I hadn't come in time, what would you have done? Use the second stage of Ki? Do you want to kill him?!"

"Even if I did, what does it matter? Who would care if he died? He is just a peasant, a tra—"

PAM!

The slap came swift and merciless. Gunther's palm cracked against Mada's cheek, sending blood spraying from his mouth as his head snapped sideways. The sting spread instantly, his cheek reddening as he blinked up in stunned disbelief.

"Br… brother?" Mada stammered, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. His hands shook as he clenched them tightly. "You slapped me… in front of the whole school? For a stranger? For a peasant?!" His words trembled with hurt, but his eyes burned with hatred—toward Grey as much as his own brother.

"Next time you try something this foolish," Gunther growled, stepping so close Mada could barely breathe, "I won't stop at a slap. I'll beat the hell out of you myself. Be careful who you provoke—you have no idea who or what they may be." His words carried a finality that silenced the hall.

Then his eyes turned toward Grey.

"And you. That was not wise. Mada could have killed you, and I am not exaggerating. You aggravated a descendant and dared to fight in the canteen. For this, your punishment is simple. You will not step foot in here or eat here for three days."

The order was delivered flat, without hesitation. Gunther spun on his heel and left, disappearing as swiftly as he had come.

"Wait, what?!" Grey and the surrounding students shouted in unison, stunned by what they had just witnessed. Mada, however, was silent, his glare fixed like a blade on Grey.

'Because of you, brother slapped me. For the first time in my life, I was struck and humiliated in public. Because of a peasant!' Mada seethed, his nails digging so deeply into his palms that blood seeped between his fingers.

'I swear… no, I promise. I will not simply humiliate you. I will not merely make you drop out of this academy. I will kill you. I will wipe you from the surface of the continent. By my own hand, I, Mada Slade, will make sure you cease to exist.' His knuckles turned white as his rage consumed him, the oath burning in his chest like fire.