Magic Academy Mayhem: A Class Full of Maniacs - Chapter 46

Ashara showed no intention of helping her teammates. Instead, she used a skill to isolate this part of the field.

Cynthia could not imagine why Ashara placed so much importance on a mere six-star opponent.

The outcome was already decided. Cynthia was just considering surrendering when Ashara abruptly said, “You aren’t planning to concede, are you?”

Cynthia feigned surprise. “How did you know?”

Ashara stared at her, speechless. When she answered, her tone was icy. “…I was provoking you. Could you show a little backbone?”

“I can’t seem to find any.” Cynthia spread her hands, entirely justified. “You took my Spirit Weapon. What am I supposed to do, fight you barehanded?”

Ashara tossed the scythe back at her. “Then take it.”

“…”

That was unexpected.

Cynthia caught it neatly and raised her eyes to the girl before her. “You could have eliminated me at the start. Why drag this out?”

The original Cynthia had never met Ashara.

Cynthia herself knew only that Ashara had placed first in the singles competition.

From the present situation, Ashara did not appear to hold any grudge against her, much less be prolonging the match to humiliate her or vent some resentment.

Faced with Cynthia’s confusion, Ashara remained perfectly calm. Not a ripple disturbed her gemlike violet eyes.

“Because I felt like it. Is that a problem?”

Cynthia smiled. “…Of course not.”

How willful.

Ashara pointed the blade of her scythe directly at Cynthia, making no attempt to hide her displeasure. “This is a competition. Give it everything you have. You had better put away such cowardly thoughts as surrendering before you’ve truly fought.”

Her curiosity about Cynthia had begun with the singles competition and Eclipse Moon Team’s performance in the first round.

But after exchanging blows, Ashara felt an indescribable disappointment when Cynthia failed to meet her expectations.

It sat poorly with her.

Suppressing that frustration, Ashara swept out two intersecting blades of magic.

She concealed none of her emotions. Cynthia could now roughly understand what she wanted.

A contest in which both sides gave everything, regardless of victory or defeat.

Cynthia’s refusal to try simply because Ashara outranked her was indeed disrespectful.

Taken further, it insulted both herself and her opponent.

Ashara must have sensed that Cynthia had never intended to fight seriously. No wonder she was displeased.

With that realization, Cynthia transformed her scythe into the twin blades she handled more skillfully.

As the two magical blades crossed toward her in an X, she gathered her magic and cut them apart.

The impact left her hands numb, but this time she had no intention of retreating.

Cynthia looked at the violet-haired girl. “My apologies. From this moment on, I’ll give it everything I have and make this a fight worth your while.”

The corners of Ashara’s lips seemed to lift.

Cynthia caught the expression and knew her guess had been correct.

Before Ashara’s scythe reached her, Cynthia instantly activated her first and second skills.

The protection of Light Domain layered atop a group enhancement.

Mirror Clones concealed the location of her real body and confused Ashara’s sight.

While the clones entangled her, Cynthia seized the opportunity to chant a wide-range summoning spell.

“Judgment of Sacred Flame!”

The array took shape. An enormous golden spell disk appeared, and nine dragons of flame materialized in midair. They hurtled toward Ashara, who had just destroyed three clones.

Ashara glanced past the dragons at Cynthia standing behind them. The inexplicable irritation within her finally dispersed.

She raised one hand. The bloodred scythe, traced with violet, spun across her wrist. Purple light exploded.

“Passage to the Underworld.”

The icy name of the skill spilled from her lips.

Black fog heavy with the aura of death surged from the blade and swiftly condensed into the colossal shadow of a reaper.

The phantom stood guard behind her. It raised one hand, its movement perfectly overlapping Ashara’s grip on the scythe.

A scarlet slash tore through the air. Countless ghosts manifested in its wake.

The black fog had already swallowed the light. Carrying boundless pressure, the scarlet blade of magic bore down on the nine fire dragons.

The density of Magic Element whipped the air into a gale. Ashara remained entirely unaffected. Her long violet hair barely stirred.

With a blood-colored scythe set against her cool, distant features, no one needed to have read the Record of Sequence Gods to recognize the deity who had blessed her Sequence.

The God of Death.

Cynthia had never imagined both of Ashara’s skills would be this absurdly powerful. With no time left to worry about backlash, she forcibly summoned three more clones.

At the same time, she activated Mirror Shard, a subsidiary skill of Mirror Prison Cage.

Hundreds upon hundreds of silver lights appeared. In the blink of an eye, they formed a seamless mirrored space that enclosed the entire arena.

The instant the ghosts struck the mirrors, brilliant golden light erupted from the surfaces.

Mirror Shards infused with light collided with the ghostly horde, producing a shrill barrage of impacts.

Cynthia looked up at Ashara, now endowed with the power of death, and suddenly smiled.

Ashara assumed she would use Devour.

Instead, a soft snap rang out as Cynthia snapped her fingers.

“Backlash.”

Ashara froze.

Backlash?

Cynthia had never used that skill in her previous matches. Was it another layered subsidiary skill?

Before Ashara could consider it further, the reflective force of every mirror wall surrounding the arena increased a hundredfold.

The countless ghosts and the reaper’s slash were reflected back at her without the slightest loss.

Her incorporeal skill could not be activated repeatedly in such a short span. Ashara had no choice but to take the attack head-on.

An enormous explosion shook the field. Magic Element burst across the sky.

Beneath a haze of blood, Ashara stood calmly within the black fog, scythe in hand.

Blood streamed from her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

Deep wounds had been torn across her limbs and abdomen, the flesh plainly visible.

Yet she remained composed.

Cries of disbelief rang through the stands.

“Wait—is that really the strength of a six-star?”

“Why is Cynthia’s first skill so ridiculous? It can create clones, cause backlash, *and* Devour?”

“Tch. Can’t you see Ashara is going easy on her? If she were serious, how could Cynthia possibly stand a chance?”

“Shut up, you tofu-brained idiot. Ashara clearly misjudged the situation this time. Why else would she let herself be injured so badly?”

“Can all of you stop arguing? I just want to see what happens next.”

“…”

*

Ashara truly had not expected Cynthia to counterattack so decisively.

Agony pierced her entire body. She could distinctly feel the blood draining from her, but rather than fear or anger, she let out a low laugh.

She had not misjudged Cynthia after all.

Someone like this deserved to be her opponent.

The calm vanished from Ashara’s violet eyes, replaced by a strange excitement. Her scythe cut across the void as she raised it for a stronger attack.

This instant-cast Passage to the Underworld drew on most of her magic. Its power could only be called an enhanced version of the previous strike.

The sky above the arena changed. An aura of death, like the warning before a storm, spread across the entire field.

Cynthia was already paying the corresponding price for Backlash. Blood sprayed from her body, leaving her in even worse condition than Ashara.

Before the next attack descended, Cynthia used nearly all her remaining magic without the slightest hesitation and crossed the arena’s red boundary at top speed.

At the same time, she had her clones use the Seven-Star Chain Whip to pull her teammates beyond the attack’s range.

Ashara was truly holding nothing back this time.

If Cynthia tried to take this strike, she would be walking willingly into her grave.