SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

"WOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!!!"

The air grew thick with tension as the dragons encircling the makeshift arena cheered very loudly—their eyes on the two challengers. Their battle cries caused the ground to rumble, and their excitement sent shockwaves dancing in the air.

Then, all of a sudden… all of them fell silent.

And they quietly watched.

The boy… versus the KING.

"Haa… huuu…"

Neron stood at the center, his fiery determination matched only by the colossal figure of Z'ark, the Dragon King.

The ruler of the Dragon Nation towered above Neron in his miniature form, his golden scales glimmering under the faint light that pierced the cloudy skies. His horns curved elegantly, framing his stern face, and his sheer presence was enough to make the ground quake.

Neron's voice rang loud and clear as he reiterated the stakes of the duel.

"If I defeat you, Z'ark, this war ends here. No blood will be shed, and your forces will not march against the Magic Beast Nation."

Z'ark's lips curled into a confident smirk, his deep voice resonating like rolling thunder. "Bold words, little one. But the throne of the Dragon King is not so easily claimed. You've shown potential, yet you still seem foolish enough to think you can defeat me."

The surrounding cadets murmured, their whispers filled with a mix of skepticism and intrigue.

Z'ark raised a hand to silence them, his sharp eyes locking onto Neron.

"Very well," he declared, his tone heavy with authority. "I accept your challenge. Prepare yourself, for I will not hold back."

The crowd erupted into cheers and roars as Z'ark stepped forward, his aura radiating raw, unbridled power. Neron tensed, his body readying for the impending clash.

He knew he could be outmatched in sheer strength, but he couldn't falter now.

The battle began with a sudden rush of movement.

~WHOOOOOSH!~

Z'ark charged with blinding speed, his golden fists swinging with enough force to shatter mountains.

"Ah!"

Neron barely dodged, the sheer wind pressure from the strike sending him skidding backward.

"You're quick, I'll give you that," Z'ark remarked, his smirk widening.

Neron didn't respond.

Instead, he conjured twin blades of pure energy, their brilliant light contrasting against the Dragon King's dark, menacing aura. He dashed forward, his movements fluid and precise, aiming for Z'ark's exposed flank.

But as the blades neared their target, they slowed unnaturally, as though weighed down by an invisible force. Z'ark's smirk deepened.

"Did you think I'd let you hit me so easily? My Original Magic alters the mass of anything within my domain. Your attacks are mere insects under my control."

Neron gritted his teeth as his blades dissipated under the pressure.

He leaped back, narrowly avoiding a massive stomp that left a crater in the ground.

The realization of Z'ark's ability set in—it wasn't just his body that was dangerous, but his ability to manipulate the weight of the battlefield itself.

As Z'ark advanced, the ground beneath Neron's feet seemed to grow heavier. His movements slowed, each step requiring immense effort.

"Your arrogance led you here," Z'ark bellowed, raising his arm. "Now, feel the consequence of your failure!"

With a swift motion, Z'ark thrust his hand forward, and the air around Neron seemed to collapse inward. The immense gravitational force crushed the earth around him, leaving him trapped in a sinking pit.

Neron clenched his fists, refusing to let despair take hold.

"I'm not done yet!" he shouted, summoning a barrier of energy to shield himself from the crushing force.

Z'ark's laughter echoed. "You're persistent. I'll give you that."

Realizing he needed to counter Z'ark's overwhelming advantage, Neron calmed his breathing, his mind racing for a solution.

He couldn't overpower Z'ark in strength, nor could he outlast the relentless gravitational pressure. But he had something that Z'ark didn't expect: his own Original Magic.

Time seemed to pause as Neron whispered the incantation.

His eyes glowed with an ethereal light, and the world around him came to a standstill.

He activated his ability.

"[All The Time In The World]."

The oppressive weight vanished, and silence filled the arena.

Z'ark was frozen mid-attack, his expression one of smug confidence.

Neron stepped forward, his movements now unhindered, and studied his opponent carefully.

"Let's see how you handle this," he muttered.

He gathered his energy, channeling it into a single, devastating spell. As time resumed, Z'ark barely had a moment to react before a surge of energy erupted toward him. The Dragon King roared, raising his hands to shield himself, but the sheer force of the attack sent him hurtling backward, crashing into the arena's edge.

~BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!~

The ground trembled as Z'ark rose to his feet, his expression a mix of anger and admiration.

"Impressive," he admitted, brushing dust off his golden scales. "But you'll need more than parlor tricks to bring me down."

Their clash continued, each exchange growing more intense.

Neron weaved through Z'ark's attacks, exploiting openings and countering with precision. The Dragon King's mass-altering magic forced Neron to adapt constantly, but he pushed forward, his determination unwavering.

The turning point came when Neron combined his Original Magic with an advanced spell he had been saving. He leaped high into the air, his hands glowing with a brilliant light. The gathered energy formed into a colossal spear, crackling with power.

~ZZTTTZZZZZ!!!~

"Let's end this!" Neron roared, hurling the spear downward.

Z'ark tried to counter, increasing the mass of the spell to slow it, but Neron had anticipated this.

With a final burst of magic, he negated the gravitational pull, allowing the spear to pierce through Z'ark's defenses. Continue the saga on m-v-l-e-mpyr

The explosion rocked the battlefield, a shockwave of energy forcing the spectators to shield their eyes.

~VWUUUUUSSSHHHH!!!~

When the dust settled, Z'ark lay sprawled on the ground, his chest heaving from exertion.

"U-urghh…"

Neron hovered above him, his form illuminated by the fading remnants of his spell.

The audience—all of the Dragons—witnessed this impossible sight as their Goliath of a King fell at the hands of a no-name Cadet who was barely old enough to be considered an adult.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, with a deep voice that caused all who witnessed it to quake, Neron spoke.

"I win."