Martial Demons Ascension

Chapter 29: Paying it back(5)



Eto exhaled through her nose, shaking out her arms after her second fight A faint glow of mana still shimmered faintly around her skin from the last spell, but her eyes weren't on the opponent she'd just beaten.

They were on Rinnte.

He sat calm and unbothered at the far side of the stage, his sharp eyes fixed on her as if weighing something far heavier than the match Eto felt her chest tighten That was the one she wanted to face the one she needed to face Rinnte had always been the wall in her way, the rival she couldn't ignore.

But there was no time for patience. Her group was still bickering, still squabbling over who should go next A few of them were hesitant after watching Rhyka's performance in the other ring, their nerves shaken. They were whispering about tactics, who should conserve mana, how to match up.

Eto didn't have the patience for it.

She straightened her back, mana flaring faintly around her as her presence demanded attention.

"Enough," she said, her voice cutting across the chatter.

The group turned to her, startled Eto's tone wasn't her usual light, playful air. It was sharp, commanding, almost cold.

"I don't want to waste time picking you off one by one," she said bluntly "I don't plan on dragging this out just to save your pride I only care about my real fight So" her gaze flicked toward Rinnte for a split second before she continued, "whoever wants to fight me, come all at once. I'll deal with it now."

The arena went still.

Shock spread across the students' faces.

"Is she serious?"

"All of us at once?"

"She's going to burn out her mana like that!"

But behind the disbelief was something else a sting of humiliation Eto hadn't just declared herself ready for all of them She'd declared that they weren't even worth fighting individually.

Emmet arched a brow but didn't intervene. His sharp eyes lingered on her posture, the confidence in her tone, the way her mana already pulsed stronger than most in her group He wanted to see how far she would push herself.

Rinnte, however, didn't move.

He sat where he was, hands resting loosely on his knees, his sharp gaze locked onto her. Eto felt that gaze like a blade across her skin unmoving, piercing, weighing every word she had spoken.

He understands, she thought He knows this isn't arrogance This is necessity.

Still, a nervous ripple crawled up her spine. Because while she wanted to impress him, she also knew: if she failed here, if she couldn't dominate completely, she would look like a fool.

And that, she could not allow.

Around her, the group exchanged looks anger simmering now where hesitation once lingered.

"Fine."

"She asked for it."

"Don't complain when you're on the floor, Eto."

One by one, students began stepping forward, mana rippling around them as they prepared to attack together.

Eto lifted her chin, her ponytail swaying slightly, her hands already weaving faint mana traces in the air Her heart beat quick, but her expression stayed calm.

"Good," she murmured.

Her real fight was yet to come But for now, she would show them exactly why she wasn't afraid.

Eto stood alone at the center of the stage, her ponytail swaying with the faint breeze that rolled through the training grounds She didn't fidget. She didn't shuffle nervously or glance away She simply stood, spine straight, golden eyes watching as one after another, seven of her classmates stepped onto the stage.

It wasn't like before, when Rhyka's challengers had shuffled up with hostility or pride No this time their steps were sharp, deliberate, heavy with a different kind of weight.

They were angry.

Not only angry wounded.

These seven weren't just nobodies They were, in some ways, disciples Admirers Those who had spent months or even years watching Eto from the sidelines, praising her natural charm, her openness, her beauty, her magical talent They had always assumed she saw them too, that she valued their effort, that she respected them as fellow mages.

But her words cut deep.

All at once Let's just get this over with.

That wasn't just arrogance. To them, it was dismissal To them, it was the girl they admired spitting in their faces, saying: you aren't worth my time.

And the sting of that humiliation burned sharper than pride It was shame.

They weren't stepping up just to beat Eto They were stepping up to claw back a piece of their own dignity.

Eto knew it. She could feel it in their glares, the stiff tension in their postures She wasn't blind to what she had said But that didn't matter.

She didn't plan on losing.

Her hand rose slowly, palm facing outward, and the air trembled.

Mana pulsed through her core, refined and sharp, and then exploded outward in a crackling corona Golden sparks leapt across her skin, crawling up her arms, tracing veins of living light that coiled around her shoulders and chest like glowing chains.

Then the sparks grew louder crack, snap, crackle as arcs of lightning leapt free of her body, circling her form like orbiting blades A golden axis of energy spun slowly at her center, each rotation humming with enough power to make the air smell of ozone.

It wasn't wild It wasn't uncontrolled It was alive.

This was Golden Axis, one of the most infamous techniques in the lightning arsenal.

One of the great spells that could had a variant at rank 6

t was brutal in its simplicity and genius in its design.

The first function was circulation By pushing lightning mana through the body in continuous loops, the user could create far more lightning than their core alone would normally allow A little mana became a lot, refined and amplified by repetition The more one could control the loops, the more explosive the growth.

The second function was absorption. Golden Axis wasn't just a generator, it was a sponge Any lightning natural, magical, artificial could be drawn in, devoured, and then recycled into raw enhancement. The body would become faster, stronger, sharper. Reaction times shortened, muscles responded instantly, senses heightened.

It was, in short, a multiplier.

A spell that turned a little into a lot, and turned every spark of incoming lightning into fuel.

The difficulty wasn't just in casting it it was in containing it Lightning wanted to lash, to scatter, to burn through muscle and bone Circulating it inside one's body without frying the nerves or cooking the skin required monstrous control At Rank 1, it was considered nearly impossible.

And Eto was standing there, golden arcs dancing across her skin like ribbons, the spell humming steadily as if she had been born to it.

The seven students facing her hesitated.

For all their anger, for all their wounded pride, their admiration didn't vanish so easily In their eyes, she was still dazzling She was still Eto The golden light framed her like a goddess, radiant and terrible, untouchable.

Somewhere deep down, they didn't want to strike her They wanted to watch her To praise her To be near her brilliance.

But the shame weighed heavier.

They tightened their fists, mana sparking faintly in their cores One drew up flames at his side, another conjured thin whips of wind, another hardened their skin with an earth shield Their eyes stayed locked on her, determination carving sharp lines across their young faces.

Eto met each of their gazes, one by one Not cruel, not mocking simply acknowledging.

"I said I don't want to drag this out," she reminded them, her voice calm, clear, and steady above the crackling storm of her aura. "So come All of you Show me what you've got."

Golden sparks leapt from her shoulders, scattering across the stage in a storm of brilliance.

The crowd of watching students leaned forward, breath held.

Even Emmet's lips pressed into a thin line, his hands clasped behind his back He knew the outcome, but he couldn't deny the girl's control was something to behold.

And in the far corner, Rinnte's sharp eyes never wavered, fixed entirely on Eto.

Not just her spell Not just her stance.

Her resolve


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