Chapter 14: The Shackles of Fate

On the stage, only Mo Ya and Shakia remained. After Mo Ya’s rather arrogant declaration, the trial officially began.

However, this was an unfair trial. Mo Ya’s opponent wasn’t an instructor from the academy, but Shakia, the Ice Witch, who was only one year his senior. This fact left him with a slight sense of regret.

“Hey, dead last! Don’t get instantly wiped out!”

“Yeah, at least struggle and run for a bit longer!”

Such remarks continuously echoed from the spectator stands, yet Mo Ya remained unmoved.

Humans, after all, were creatures who, upon seeing someone weaker than themselves, would instinctively develop a sense of superiority.

They would then become self-satisfied and stagnant. This was unacceptable. To truly become strong, one had to fight with their life on the line.

So—

“I will not flee.”

“Then let me see your resolve.”

Shakia spoke, swiftly thrusting her ice spear into the ground.

As if in response to her action, the surrounding ground instantly froze. A chilling aura and a frozen expanse rapidly spread, encompassing the entire arena.

“I believe I already told you, I won’t go easy.”

“Yes, I know.”

Mo Ya stood his ground, his gaze fixed intently on Shakia, who was clad in silver armor before him.

She was a master of ice magic, skilled at using destructive ice formations to restrict an opponent’s movements, then delivering a fatal blow.

Mo Ya suddenly recalled the contents of a textbook—knowledge he hadn’t possessed in his previous life as a king.

He swiftly analyzed the young woman’s actions, his face betraying no emotion.

Then, a sudden shift occurred. It was Shakia’s first attack.

Upon the stage, which had been frozen by the intense cold, numerous ice pillars abruptly erupted beneath Mo Ya’s feet, encircling him.

“Ice Technique, Second Essential, Absolute Chill Ice.”

Sharp icicle-like thorns burst forth from the sides of the frigid pillars, slowly converging towards Mo Ya in the center.

Mo Ya remained rooted to his spot, making no move to retaliate. He simply scanned the ice pillars attempting to ensnare him, a hint of excitement flickering in his eyes.

Shakia was undoubtedly serious. For some unknown reason, she was afraid. The young man before her evoked an inexplicable sense of dread, so much so that she wanted to deny Mo Ya, resorting to an ability usually reserved for killing blows.

‘Why does he wear that expression? Isn’t battle sorrowful? Doesn’t battle only bring pain?’

“This is enough, isn’t it? Just surrender quickly. There’s no need for you to force yourself any longer.”

She waved her arm, attempting to persuade Mo Ya to yield.

Yet, even this small wish remained unfulfilled, for standing before her was an isolated king.

“I… don’t want to lose.”

Mo Ya’s words were so utterly his own that Akuma, in the spectator stands, froze.

“Honestly… that idiot… If that’s the case, then go win the match!”

Within the arena, Mo Ya began to move.

With eerie and agile footwork, his figure weaved between the ice pillars. His speed was so great that even Shakia couldn’t clearly discern his movements.

But this was no impediment to her.

“This is merely self-deception. No matter how much you train in physical techniques, those without magic and talent cannot become mages.”

She pulled the silver spear from the ground and held it before her.

“Third Flower, Ice Severing.”

Like a blooming snow lotus, Shakia’s spear became covered in numerous flowers crafted from ice and snow.

Unlike the ice spear she had used against Shi, this spear blade resembled a beautiful work of art, yet the power it contained was in no way inferior to its predecessor.

Mo Ya swiftly moved through the ice pillars, and as he passed, one pillar after another toppled.

“No way… Is he a monster? That level of physical technique goes beyond the scope of normal humans!”

These were the exclamations from the surrounding crowd, but Mo Ya had no mind to pay attention to their meaningless chatter.

Mo Ya was entirely focused on the prey before him, launching his attack like a swift leopard.

“Why are you so eager for battle? Your fate dictates that you cannot become a mage.”

Shakia felt confused and perplexed, this question growing endlessly within her heart. Why was this man before her acting this way, why did he crave battle so intensely?

“Battle… is merely the shackles of fate.”

Her words grew faint. As if remembering something, a hint of sadness flickered in her eyes.

But it was only a fleeting moment. She charged towards Mo Ya with an even fiercer offensive than before.

“This is the end…”

The snowflake spear rapidly thrust forward, but Mo Ya merely smiled, charging straight ahead. He clenched his hands into claws, intending to seize the sharp silver spear with his bare hands.

“Hmph… Just a greenhorn with no combat experience after all, aren’t you? You’ve failed.”

Shakia snorted coldly. The spinning, rolling silver spear mercilessly stabbed towards the oncoming Mo Ya.

The scene of the next second seemed already predictable. Mo Ya would have his arm pierced by the silver spear, losing this trial.

He might even lose his arm entirely. Although the academy had healing magic, would they really allow a ‘dead last’ like him to use it?

That remained a question.

But events took a turn; miracles do happen. They occur in places where people believe them to be impossible.

The silver spear pierced straight through Mo Ya’s right arm. A chilling cold instantly spread through Mo Ya’s body, climbing to his eyes, which still burned with fighting spirit.

“Rest assured, I’ll arrange for the medical team. You must have realized by now, your fate cannot be broken…”

She declared her victory, but before her words were even finished, she was astonished to discover a fact.

Mo Ya, whom she had stabbed, was slowly dissipating, turning into an illusion.

“One of the basics of magic, an illusion created with a small amount of magic and speed. This is straight from the textbook, you know.”

As the illusion vanished, Mo Ya’s figure appeared at Shakia’s side.

“Because I can’t properly condense magic, I stood before your spear until the very last second. Thinking about it now, that was quite dangerous.”

Shakia incredulously spun her head around. The young man’s eyes, burning with fighting spirit, reflected in hers.

Then, a powerful blow landed on the back of her neck, and dizziness overwhelmed her.

“The so-called shackles of fate are meant to be broken.”

Mo Ya’s sudden elbow strike caused Shakia to lose consciousness, collapsing onto the stage.

The silver spear clattered to the ground, its crisp sound echoing in the students’ ears.

They were plunged into endless stupor. Indeed, it was as if they had lost their souls.

What should have been a one-sided battle had turned out to be so utterly unexpected.

More importantly, from the beginning to the end of this trial, they had not witnessed Mo Ya use any magic. All they had seen was a basic technique.

At the very top of the spectator stands, a disheveled and incredibly lazy man found himself intrigued. He whistled.

“Oh my, this one, if things go well…”

His words remained unfinished, as the gasping breaths of the Vice President, caused by her running, reached him from behind.

“Instructor Conrad, I finally… finally found you.” The Vice President took deep gulps of air, steadying her breathing.

She was currently strictly following President Shakia’s orders, searching for Conrad throughout the entire academy.

“Instructor, please proceed with the review quickly!”

“Ah, well… A young lady being a bit gentler would make her more popular with men, you know.” The instructor, known as Conrad, helplessly scratched his messy hair, then turned to leave.

“Wait, please conduct the review!”

“There’s no need now. Hurry and carry your President away.”

With those words, Conrad leaped, once again disappearing without a trace.

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