Once Alex finished, he stepped out of the hall.
This time, instead of going straight to train, he wandered through the academy. With everyone taking their tests, only a handful of staff and guards were around, leaving the grounds unusually empty and quiet.
After walking as much as he wanted, he headed home. Today, he would rest—tomorrow the combats would begin.
But after six months of turning into something close to a workaholic, he couldn't sit still for long. Soon enough, he was training Senturion Control until he drained his mana, alternating it with mana gathering.
When boredom settled in, he switched to light physical exercise. He had lost a fair amount of muscle over time, so he kept it gentle. He never overdid it; he didn't want to exhaust himself before the exam.
When he woke the next morning, he resumed the morning routine he had abandoned long ago:
He began writing down the potion recipes he remembered.
He had left off in the advanced section, and it wasn't long before he would reach potions that only had the ingredients listed, nothing else.
But once he finished the potions, he still needed to recreate the alchemist's plant book—a catalogue of every known plant up to that future era.
After completing the notes, he had breakfast and wrote the last card to Susan, explaining that he would be out of contact for the next two weeks, doing what she already knew he intended.
Since Susan knew Alex planned to take revenge for Marc, he didn't bother hiding it.
Throughout the past months, Alex had never missed a single week of writing to her.
And over time, those letters turned into explanations of what to do after the assassination.
First, he asked how she felt about changing continents.
Susan replied she didn't care.
Then he wrote the instructions: take all the money, pack only essentials, go to the port, buy passage to Aurethia, and wait for him on the other side.
But that was only if he made it home. If he didn't return, it meant he had failed—and he apologized in advance for being such a bad son.
The reply card he received afterward had dark blotches across it, and he immediately understood she had cried on it.
She wrote about how kind he was, and how grateful she was that fate had dragged him to her riverside and allowed her to have him in her life.
Alex cried a little as he read it, knowing Susan was still trying to heal from losing Marc, only to now face the possibility of losing him as well.
Once he finished writing the card, he went to the post office to send it.
He never signed his name—Susan already knew who was writing—but now that choice came in handy, since the nobles couldn't link him to her if they ever investigated.
And that was a big if, since only Marc had known about his unofficial adoption.
Afterward, he made his way toward the academy.
Once back, he walked toward the arena, the training hall.
In there, Tessa stopped him.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Hello," Alex replied in the same gentle tone.
"You've changed a lot since the last time I saw you," Tessa said. Her voice wavered slightly—she wasn't sure whether her words would trigger him like they sometimes did when she tried to stop his self-destructive habits.
"Yes, I have. Though most changes were… involuntary," Alex answered. He then shared with her what he had talked about with Scarlett.
Tessa felt joy bloom inside her.
'He finally seems to be healing,' she thought.
But with so many students nearby, she couldn't ask the most important question—the one that would decide whether she stayed by his side or walked away.
As time passed, the combats were about to begin.
The combatants were selected at random.
Five fights would happen at the same time.
Each participant received an artifact that created a protective membrane, acting like a replacement body. If a spell hit an arm with enough force to sever it, the membrane would flash red on that area, paralyzing the limb.
It offered both safety and realism.
As the first five combatants fought, Alex and Tessa watched—each with different intent.
Tessa watched because she enjoyed analyzing battles and improving herself.
Alex watched to see where nobles received their unfair advantages.
He realized quickly: the nobles' membrane artifacts boosted their spell power. On top of that, their necklaces and bracelets—artifacts with who-knew-what effects—were not removed.
Among all the academy's tests, this one seemed the most rigged.
After several rounds where almost every noble won, it was finally Alex's turn.
He was matched against a noble: Dalen Arkwright.
The moment Alex stepped into the arena, he studied his opponent.
Dalen's mocking smile triggered something deep inside him—something raw and ugly. He suddenly wondered if the noble who killed Marc had worn a similar expression while torturing and watching him bleed out.
Anger and hatred surged back through him like a rising tide.
The referee took position and raised his hand.
Outside the arena, three people watched him closely: Tessa, Scarlett, and Fabian.
They all noticed the sudden change in Alex. His usually detached expression sharpened into something cold and predatory, his focus narrowing until his eyes held nothing but fury—like a hunter locking onto prey.
Alex clenched his fists and waited for the signal.
The referee swung his arm down and shouted, "Start!"
Alex flicked his hand.
A sharp swish cut through the air as a massive Wind Slicer formed instantly and shot forward like a blade of compressed storm.
Dalen had no time to react.
He hadn't expected a commoner to display this level of strength. Combined with his artifacts, he had grown confident—too confident.
The Wind Slicer slammed into the membrane, tearing through it as if it were flesh, and a long vertical red line appeared from the top of Dalen's head down to his groin.
A siren blared, and the referee immediately signaled the end.
"End of match! Winner: Alexander!" he shouted.
The crowd fell into stunned silence—including Scarlett and Tessa.
Fabian, however, burst out laughing like a madman, arms thrown wide as he tilted his head back, ecstatic.
The entire fight had lasted less than five seconds.
That was what shocked the spectators most.
Many felt a chill run down their spine.
It seemed Alex wasn't just here to pass. He was here to win.