The referee’s voice echoed across the arena, counting down each second that seemed to stretch into eternity.

  “Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one… and zero!”

  The commentator’s voice broke through the roar of the crowd.

  “This is unbelievable, everyone! The winner is Lyrien Vandemire!!!”

  The audience exploded into cheers, the arena trembling beneath the thunder of applause. The energy was electric—students, instructors, and even guests from other academies were on their feet.

  But Lyrien didn’t hear any of it. The moment the countdown ended, she released the water sphere and sprinted toward Arlen.

  “Arlen! I’m sorry—are you alright?” she cried, dropping to her knees beside him.

  Arlen was already struggling to sit up, drenched, gasping for air. When his eyes met hers—full of worry and relief—he managed a faint, crooked smile.

  “Lyrien… there’s nothing to apologize for. You were just better than me. And you won.”

  For a heartbeat, the entire arena seemed to hold its breath as Lyrien reached out and offered him her hand. Arlen accepted it, and she helped him to his feet. The moment they stood together, the crowd erupted again—this time not just for the victory, but for the display of respect between two fierce rivals.

  From the stands, Toma let out an awed laugh. “That was incredible! Lyrien’s trap was a brilliant idea! But… I still feel bad for Arlen.”

  Beside him, Arvian crossed his arms with a smug grin. “It went exactly how I predicted from the start.”

  “Oh, come on!” Toma snapped. “You didn’t say anything like that! Don’t act like some genius now.”

  Arvian sighed, amused. “Toma. Shut up.”

  Down below, the medical team was already running onto the field, quickly surrounding the two fighters. Both had visible burns and bruises, exhaustion etched deep into their faces. The healers guided them toward the infirmary, and even as they left the arena, the audience’s applause followed them, echoing like a standing ovation of admiration and respect.

  High above, in the VIP section, two figures watched the scene unfold—the student council president and his secretary.

  The secretary turned slightly, lowering his voice. “What do you think, sir? Are you satisfied with Miss Vandemire’s victory?”

  The president’s expression remained cold. His sharp eyes followed Lyrien’s retreating figure. “No. A Vandemire should not be this weak. She should have dominated from the very start of the match.”

  The secretary hesitated. “But, sir, last year you also lost in the final—”

  “Silence,” the president cut him off, his tone icy. “Mind your own business.”

  “My apologies, Mr. President,” the secretary murmured, lowering his gaze.

  ***

  Meanwhile, Arvian and Toma hurried to the medical room, eager to learn as much as possible about Lyrien and Arlen’s condition.

  But when they arrived, both of them froze in disbelief.

  Neither Lyrien nor Arlen had a single scratch on them. There were no bandages, no visible injuries at all.

  Toma blinked. “What? You two look perfectly fine—how is that possible?”

  “The doctor lady healed us!” Arlen said brightly.

  A woman approached from the far side of the room, her steps calm and graceful.

  “That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m not a doctor.”

  Arlen tilted his head. “Then who are you?”

  “My name is Kaine. I am the Chief Healer of the Healing Division.”

  “So you’re like… a captain?” Toma asked, curious.

  Kaine chuckled softly. “Well, you could say that. I hold the highest rank in the Healing Division, but it’s a bit different. The Healing Division doesn’t have captains like the combat divisions do. Our only responsibility is treatment—we heal physical injuries.”

  “Then how come I’ve never seen anyone from the Healing Division in any of the hospitals?” Arlen asked, frowning.

  “Because there are very few of us—only a few hundred,” Kaine explained kindly. “And we primarily treat severe injuries or the wounds of warriors so they can return to battle as soon as possible.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Toma nodded slowly. “I see. By the way, what type of ability is healing?”

  “It’s a Nova-type ability, known as ‘Purifying Light.’ It can heal any physical injury, but it has limitations. We cannot resurrect the dead, and we do not have regenerative power. Meaning, if someone loses a limb, we cannot regrow it. And we cannot reverse aging or make someone young again.”

  Her tone softened slightly.

  “However, thanks to this ability, we are now able to cure all formerly deadly diseases like cancer or tumors. And there are no longer wheelchair-bound or permanently disabled people—those conditions can all be healed today.”

  “Wow, that’s incredible!” Toma exclaimed, eyes wide.

  Arvian looked thoughtful. “And when was the Healing Division established?”

  Kaine paused to think. “Well, I’ve been part of the division since the beginning… If I remember correctly, it was founded about a hundred years ago.”

  At that, Toma’s and Arlen’s eyes widened in shock.

  “You’re joking, right?” Toma said, still trying to process it. “You mean… you’re that old?”

  Kaine burst out laughing. “You really don’t know that people with abilities live longer than ordinary humans?”

  Arlen shook his head. “No!”

  “This is the first time I’ve heard that!” Toma added.

  “Even I know that,” Lyrien murmured softly.

  “My grandfather is already over four hundred years old,” Arvian said casually.

  Toma threw up his hands. “Yeah, but you two are nobles!”

  Arlen crossed his arms. “And you didn’t spend your whole life in Gorimbol, in a small hidden village!”

  Lyrien blinked, confused. “Gori… Gorim… what?”

  Arlen pointed dramatically at her. “There! She can’t even pronounce the name of the village I grew up in—my home!”

  Kaine simply continued her explanation, unbothered.

  “People who possess abilities live much longer than ordinary humans—close to two hundred years on average. And someone at the level of a Captain, who has a high amount of Aima, can live up to five hundred years. I am two hundred and eight years old.”

  Toma’s jaw dropped. “You’re incredibly well-preserved, Doctor!”

  Arlen nodded eagerly. “Yes, you still look young and beautiful—like you’re only around thirty!”

  Arvian sighed. “Do you two realize that she literally ages slower than normal people?”

  Kaine smiled gently. “Thank you for the compliments, boys. And please, just speak to me casually. I don’t like seeming old.”

  Just then, several members of the Healing Division entered the room.

  “Chief Healer Kaine, we have another injured one!” one of them called.

  Kaine turned toward the voice immediately. “Thank you, set them down.”

  Arvian gestured toward the exit. “Alright, then we won’t get in the way any longer. Let’s let Kaine do her work. Let’s go.”

  “Bye! And if either of you ever get hurt, come back here without hesitation!” Kaine called after them.

  “Alright, thank you!” Arvian said as he practically dragged Arlen and Toma out of the room, while Lyrien followed behind them with gentle, graceful steps.

  As they made their way back toward the arena, Arvian glanced at his friends. “Seriously, what was with all those ridiculous questions?”

  “We really didn’t know about any of that!” Arlen protested.

  Arvian ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, enough. I don’t have time for this now. My match is starting soon. I’m heading to the locker room.”

  Toma raised a hand lazily. “Okay, then we’ll go to the stands in the meantime.”

  ***

  While Lyrien, Arlen, and Toma waited in the stands for the next match, Toma munched on popcorn, while Lyrien and Arlen talked quietly about their own fight.

  “I’m sorry I eliminated you, Arlen.”

  Arlen shook his head. “It’s fine, Lyrien. This is a competition. I was simply the weaker one. Honestly, I’m disappointed in myself. I thought that after going on missions I’d become stronger… but it wasn’t enough.”

  He clenched his fist, then smiled faintly at her. “I’ll work harder. My dream is to join the Fire Division one day.”

  There was disappointment in his smile—but also firm determination.

  “You can do it, Arlen. You’re just a little behind right now, but keep training harder—just like I do,” Toma said between bites of popcorn.

  Arlen chuckled. “But I’ll be cheering for all three of you, so give it everything you’ve got!”

  “Yes, we will,” Lyrien replied softly.

  Just then, the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena.

  “Dear spectators, it is time for another magnificent match! Arvian will be facing Joe! Both are young first-years, so we may witness an exciting battle!”

  Down in the arena, Arvian and Joe stood facing each other.

  Arvian’s expression was calm, almost indifferent, as if he didn’t care at all.

  Joe, on the other hand, was trembling slightly as he thought to himself, It’s a miracle I made it this far… and now I have to fight this incredibly strong noble-born guy!? Even if my chances are slim, I can’t give up. I’ll give it everything I have!

  The bell rang.

  The match began.

  Arvian moved the instant the sound reached his ears. In a flash, he vanished from Joe’s sight and reappeared behind him.

  Before Joe could even turn around, Arvian’s hand touched his back—and in the next moment, Joe froze completely.

  “Pathetic.”

  Gasps erupted across the stands.

  “Unbelievable!” the announcer shouted. “Arvian has delivered yet another lightning-fast knockout!?”

  The referee started the countdown.

  “Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one… and zero!”

  The crowd roared as Arvian claimed another overwhelming victory.

  Arvian looked up toward the stands, frustration in his eyes. “Bring me someone stronger! This is way too easy! I want a stronger opponent!”

  Meanwhile, the Student Council President was also watching from the viewing platform, though his expression showed clear displeasure at Arvian’s attitude.

  The president’s secretary leaned closer. “What do you think of the youngest talent of the Lysell Clan?”

  “Arrogant brat,” the president muttered. “I’m curious to see how he handles a real opponent.”

  Down in the arena, the announcer’s voice rang out again.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, after a short break, the next match will be between Vaen and Toma!”

  Up in the stands, Toma stood and dusted off his uniform. “I’m heading to the locker room. Save Arvian’s seat until he comes back,” he said before hurrying away.

  Lyrien watched the arena with admiration. “Arvian is incredible… he wins his matches with such effortless ease.”

  Arlen nodded. “Yes, but he works extremely hard for it—just like Toma. I think those two are the main contenders to win this whole tournament.”

  ***

  Meanwhile, Toma was changing in the locker room when he happened to run into Arvian.

  “That was impressive,” Toma said with a grin. “I’m not going to be able to match that now! My match definitely won’t end that quickly.”

  Arvian leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “Toma, just focus on your own path. I won’t always have easy matches either. It’s just that my opponent this time was another one of those guys we met in the desert.”

  “You’re right!” Toma replied, tightening his shoelaces. “I’m walking my own path—and that’s how I’ll make it to the finals of this tournament.”

  Through the speakers above them, the commentator’s voice boomed across the hall.

  “And now, the match between Vaen and Toma is about to begin!”

  Toma stood up and straightened his uniform. “Alright, time to go!”

  Arvian gave a confident nod. “Good luck. I’ll meet you in the finals.”

  The two bumped fists, and Toma turned toward the exit, heading for the arena.

  This feeling again… It’s incredible to fight in front of so many spectators, he thought as he stepped into the light.

  At the center of the arena, he stopped across from Vaen.

  “Long time no see,” Toma said with a calm smile.

  Vaen’s eyes gleamed with determination. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. Now you’ll finally get to see what I’m truly capable of.”