The Manaless Extra (A Progression Fantasy Story)

Volume 03, Chapter 108
Dominic vs Arthur [2]

Arthur looks up, his sword still in hand.

High above the arena, Dominic flies with jagged, crow-like wings of shadow unfurled behind him, flapping with wild and uneven force.

Arthur's eyes widen, just for a moment. 'He created a new spell… mid-battle.'

Even in the heat of combat, that kind of improvisation is rare. Risky. Dangerous.

Arthur clenches his jaw. 'But he can't fly properly. Not yet.'

This is his chance.

He raises his hand, Mana gathering at his fingertips, light flaring to life.

"Avalon Blast!"

Three radiant beams of light scream toward the sky.

Dominic jerks sideways in midair, barely dodging. Then again, on the other side. And again—zigzagging in erratic, dizzying patterns.

Arthur narrows his eyes. He can tell Clark is adjusting quickly, but his body cannot keep up. Those movements are throwing off his balance. He must be dizzy. Disoriented.

Arthur lifts his hand again. "Avalon Blast!"

Another trio of beams surges toward the airborne target.

Dominic flaps backward hard, narrowly escaping again—now floating at the opposite end of the arena.

Arthur's brow twitches in annoyance. 'He's learning fast… too fast.'

"Hey! Stop flying and face me on the ground! Fight fair!" he shouts, unable to keep the irritation from his voice.

From above, Dominic calls back with a cocky grin, "Nah! I like the view up here!"

Arthur scowls. "Fine."

If Clark wants to keep his distance, then Arthur will need to end it all at once.

He lifts his hand.

His body ignites with light.

Mana pulses like a miniature sun, golden and intense. His aura flares, bathing the arena in radiant glow.

One by one, fifteen orbs of light blink into existence around the battlefield—high above the stands, nestled in the corners of the arena walls, and even below Dominic's floating position.

Each one glows with focused power.

Each one—charged.

"There's no way he can dodge all of this," Arthur murmurs.

Even if Clark has begun to adapt to flying, it does not matter. Not against light-speed attacks from every direction.

"Avalon Blast!"

—BLING!

The fifteen orbs erupt into radiant beams, launching like streaking stars toward Dominic.

—BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A series of violent impacts rocks the air, smoke and dust flaring outward in a deafening shockwave.

Arthur does not flinch. He keeps his eyes forward.

Then, he feels it—Mana surrounding Dominic.

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As the smoke parts, the shape becomes clear.

A dark dome. Solid, pulsing, protective—like a fortress of shadow.

Arthur's lips thin into a hard line. Another new spell…

His grip on his sword tightens.

And just like that, the memories come rushing back.

Back to those days, when they were younger.

When Dominic followed him everywhere.

Every academic club Arthur joined, Dominic followed.

Literature, science, music, and strategy games—Dominic always came with him. Always joined the same clubs.

And every time, Dominic outshone him.

Smarter. Sharper. More praised.

Arthur tried to brush it off at first.

But the compliments that used to be his slowly shifted to someone else. Teachers' eyes stopped lingering on him. Peers looked to Dominic for answers.

He began transferring clubs just to breathe.

And still, Dominic followed.

The cycle never ended.

Until one day, Arthur just… stopped.

He left every club. All of them.

He chose Stargate Raiding instead—something Dominic would not chase.

Dominic, Manaless and not physically fit, had no reason to follow him there.

For the first time, they separated.

Dominic returned to academics.

Arthur trained alone.

They still hung out. Still laughed. Still called each other best friend.

But the gap was drawn.

Arthur pushed himself to grow stronger. Alone.

The techniques passed down through the Lyon bloodline were not easy.

Flash of Merlin took him three years to control. Avalon Blast? Five years before it would not blow up in his face.

And now?

Clark, a stranger from another world, is standing in Dominic's body, creating spells in real time like it were second nature.

First wings. Now a dome.

Arthur's hands curl into fists. A bitter weight settles in his chest. "Clark is just as talented as Doms…"

The words slip out like poison. He hates how true they sound.

Because even now—

Even after Dominic left him…

His shadow is still there.

Still ahead.

Still outshining him.

He clenches his jaw.

I gave everything. My pride. My youth. My blood.

But once again—

Someone else is flying higher.

And Arthur Lyon, the heir of the Lyon Territory. The boy who trained in silence. Who stood beneath the weight of generations still looks up, and it hurts.

"Dark Beam!"

Arthur's eyes snap upward—two swirling beams of shadow plummet toward him from the sky.

"Avalon Blast!"

He thrusts his right hand forward, three radiant beams of light launching upward to intercept the attack.

—BLING!

The collision lights the sky in a storm of magic—light and darkness crashing into one another, the air between them vibrating like glass under pressure.

"Ngh…!" Arthur grunts, bracing himself.

He pushes more Mana into the light beams, feeling their flow resonate with his will.

'I should be overpowering him—I have more Mana than he does…'

But then—

He feels it.

A sudden surge pulses from the opposing force.

'What?!' Arthur's eyes widen.

His beams of light begin to bend, flickering under the pressure of Dominic's dark beams.

"Tch!" Arthur clenches his jaw and pours more Mana into the clash. For a brief moment, his beams steady and push back the darkness—but it does not last.

Dominic's beams flare once more, swallowing Arthur's light with crushing force.

"Nghh!" Arthur grunts, dropping to one knee as the ground beneath him fractures.

He can feel it—more Mana, flooding in from Dominic's direction like an unrelenting tide.

'He's releasing way more than a [C-] Rank… He lied.' Arthur's breath catches in his throat.

Of course, he lied. Why had he assumed Clark would not? Because he looked like Doms? Because he still smiled like him?

Arthur had felt foolish.

Naive.

—BLING!

The clash intensifies. Arthur's beams of light falter further, slowly being overwhelmed by the advancing darkness. Cracks spread beneath him from the force of the collision.

He glances at his left hand, where he grips the sword retrieved from the Temple du Sceptre Lié.

"I have to use you," he murmurs.

With unwavering resolve, Arthur channels Mana into the sword.

—Fwoosh!

A burst of wind whirls around him as the blade ignites in a fierce, brilliant yellow glow.

A calm, mechanical voice emanates from the sword: "Analyzing opponent... Mana amount needed: [A] Rank."

Power surges through Arthur's body. His Mana reserves skyrocket, amplified by the sword's latent enchantments.

Without wasting a second, he funnels the boost into his Avalon Blast.

—BLING!

The light beams erupt forward, tearing through the dark stream and utterly overwhelming it.

Dominic's eyes widen as the golden beam hurtles toward him.

He twists midair and darts sideways, but the blast grazes his side, searing across his ribs.

—FWOOOOOOOOM!

The beam rockets past him like a meteor, cleaving through the sky with city-leveling force. It vanishes into the distance like a burning comet.

Dominic staggers midair, his wings flapping unevenly before he regains balance on the far side of the arena.

He stares at the smoke trailing behind the beam.

"...That's a lot of Mana," he mutters, blinking in disbelief.

Dominic's eyes flick between the timer and Arthur's imposing figure.

Arthur now stands firm, sword gripped in both hands, his aura blazing. Even from Dominic's distant vantage point, the sheer radiance of his Mana presses outward like a physical force.

"I hope Arthur can last the next two minutes… no—" Dominic glances at his guns. "I hope I can."

With a deep, steadying breath, Dominic releases the full extent of his stored Mana. A thunderous surge of [A] Rank energy erupts from him.

Across the arena, Arthur's eyes widen.

He can feel it now.

The truth.

"So that's how much Mana he has…" he whispers.

Arthur tightens his grip on the sword, his resolve hardening like tempered steel.

This is no longer just a duel.

This is a storm.

And the real fight has only just begun.