Chapter 28: The Brutal Battle

Rowling had no intention of standing there waiting for his opponent’s most powerful spell to descend; he unleashed a barrage of Fireballs and Lightning Strikes toward his adversary. Underfoot, Simone fully activated “Shadow,” doing his utmost to dodge Rowling’s relentless bombardment. When he simply couldn’t evade, he’d raise his Bone Shield to block, all the while never ceasing his muttered incantations.

From below the stage, Teacher Harvey watched Simone with appreciation. Originally, Simone was merely Rowling’s “substitute,” yet his innate talent for necromancy had proven nothing short of remarkable. Harvey was well aware: if Simone cast that particular spell, Rowling would stand no chance of resisting.

Suddenly, Rowling’s eyelid twitched—a surge of danger welled up from within. Channeling the full extent of his Lightning Speed, electric serpents danced across his skin. Then, at a crucial moment, Rowling pushed off the ground with all his might and darted to one side; for at that very instant, a faint, black ray appeared before him—its swiftness was beyond imagination. Rowling could only rely on instinct and desperate reflex to evade.

A sharp cry escaped him. Despite having the aid of Lightning Speed, which was even faster than “Shadow,” Rowling’s right shoulder was grazed by the black ray. Agonizing pain seared through him as he discovered a nail-sized patch of flesh on his shoulder corroded and festering.

“You’re quick on your feet, but you won’t be so lucky this time!” Simone’s face twisted into a grimace, and he rapidly chanted another spell.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Rowling too began a low chant of incantations.

“Necrotic Ray!” Simone shouted, pointing a finger at Rowling. Instantly, another nearly invisible black ray shot toward Rowling with terrifying speed.

“Bone Shield!” Rowling’s low cry rang out. Before him appeared a white, bone-crafted shield identical to Simone’s. Rowling knew he could not be certain of dodging such a lightning-fast strike; thus, he too resorted to necromantic defense.

At this moment, no one was more astonished than Teacher Harvey. He had never imagined that Rowling, who’d refused to study Thomas’s necromancy notes and had shown little regard for dark magic, would now display a second-tier necromantic spell—Bone Shield—on the stage!

Since Simone’s rapid progress after reading Thomas’s notes, Harvey had believed that within decades, Simone would become a formidable necromancer, and the title of Porter Academy’s strongest student would be his. But now, Rowling had also displayed necromancy right before his eyes. For a moment, Harvey struggled to accept it. Who had taught him? Had he too read Thomas’s notes?

Seeing Rowling conjure a Bone Shield, disbelief flickered in Simone’s gaze. But soon, he sneered, for the necrotic ray, after a brief pause upon meeting the shield, bored a small hole straight through it.

Rowling cried out again—his ribs were struck by the ray, corroding a wound so deep the bone was visible. And this, even with the aid of Lightning Speed; without it, the consequences would have been far more dire.

“Hmph, still not conceding? You’re stubborn, I’ll grant you that—but you’ll pay the price for your stubbornness!” Once more, Simone began chanting, though his mental and magical reserves were nearly spent. Yet he knew, with his next strike, Rowling would be all but defeated, so he held nothing back and cast Necrotic Ray again.

“Rowling, give up, please!” Mal and the others shouted from the audience. At this point, championships, prize money, wagers, and dormitory honor were all forgotten—they cared only for Rowling’s safety, that he might return unharmed to their side.

Karina stood there, on the verge of tears from worry.

“Rowling, as your Fire Class teacher, I order you to step down at once—if you don’t, I won’t forgive you!” Mona’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. As a teacher, if Rowling won the championship, she would receive a generous reward, yet she shouted for him to yield.

Teacher Harvey opened his mouth, as if to speak, but finally said nothing.

The lightning instructor, Soffit, stood grim-faced. He had not expected his underappreciated lightning student to fight his way to the finals. Watching Rowling, battered but unbowed, still standing, a surge of hot blood rushed through his veins, and a voice roared within: “Yes, as a man, you must fight with all your strength—only then will you have no regrets!”

Across the square, hundreds watched in silence—some sorrowful, some joyful, some in awe, some in scorn. Yet all agreed on one thing: this was a final worthy of its name.

“Hmph, Rowling, you’d better not surrender—if Simone cripples you, I’ll have a shot at becoming Fire Class president!” Valen, of the Fire Class, muttered with a cold sneer. “I’d better get to Mal and collect my winnings!” With that, he elbowed his way toward Mal’s group, hand half-extended to claim his bet—when he abruptly froze.

For on the stage, before Rowling, a white skeleton suddenly appeared. At the very moment of its arrival, it was struck full by Simone’s necrotic ray. Yet, astonishingly, this skeleton—bone-constructed like the Bone Shield—was not pierced; it absorbed the ray entirely.

Rowling exhaled in relief. In truth, after two necrotic rays from Simone, this skeleton had started to grow restless in the necromantic space. Through a subtle connection, Rowling realized it was volunteering to fight. With no other options left, he had summoned it as a desperate gamble—and to his surprise, it had truly blocked the necrotic ray!

“Necromantic Summoning! He’s actually condensed a necromantic space!” Harvey felt as though he might break—this world was truly mad. In three hundred years, not one student at Porter Academy, even with Thomas’s notes, had managed to condense a necromantic space. Yet here, a mere eleven-year-old boy, after just a year at the academy, had succeeded—and summoned a skeletal undead to block the necrotic ray!

The white skeleton, struck hard in the chest, seemed almost to relish the sensation, its ribcage absorbing every shred of black energy.

Deprived of its target, the skeleton appeared quite disgruntled. It raised its bony arms high, jaw clacking as if to loudly curse Simone for denying it further sustenance.

Simone stared at the skeleton in a daze, then was suddenly overwhelmed by rage. He could not accept it. In a year, he had sacrificed so much—nearly dying for the sake of necromancy—and still, the necromantic space eluded him. Yet Rowling, who was thought incapable of necromancy, had not only cast Bone Shield, but summoned a skeletal undead as well.

Knowing Thomas’s notes by heart, Simone recognized at once what the appearance of this skeleton meant—the successful condensation of a necromantic space. In an instant, loss, pain, dejection, and fury stormed his heart. His eyes reddened, and with a hoarse roar, he hurled himself at Rowling.

The white skeleton, loyal to Rowling, blocked his path, claws flashing. But Simone did not evade. He let the sharp claws rip into his shoulder, tearing flesh, and seized the opportunity to slip past the skeleton’s side, coming within half a meter of Rowling. Throughout, his lips moved in a rapid, silent incantation.

“Rowling, let’s see you dodge this!” came a voice cold as the abyss, as once again, a necrotic ray condensed and shot forth!