Facing Ashan's humiliating words, Einar felt something inside him snap—not loudly, not explosively, but in a quiet, dangerous way that stripped away restraint and left behind a cold, sharpened intent that no longer cared for reason or consequence.
He rose to his feet in a slow, deliberate motion, tilting his head slightly as a series of cracks ran through his neck, the sound echoing faintly in the tense silence between them.
"So that's how it is," he said, his tone unnaturally calm, carrying a faint politeness that only made the underlying hostility more suffocating, "then allow me to apologize for making you feel bored up until now."
A thin smile formed on his lips, one that lacked even a trace of warmth, as his eyes locked onto Ashan with growing intensity.
"But from this moment onward… that will no longer be the case."
Bringing his hands together in a sharp clap, and in the very next instant, a massive blade materialized within his grasp, its enormous frame lined with hollowed grooves along the edges, forged from Garvium, giving the weapon a brutal, unnatural presence that seemed to distort the air around it.
"Because," he continued, shifting the sword effortlessly onto one shoulder despite its overwhelming size, "there is a very high chance that I will kill you here."
Ashan's eyes narrowed slightly, though the faint curve of amusement on his lips did not fade as he observed the weapon with clear interest.
"Oho… so you have a pocket dimension as well," he remarked casually, as though commenting on something trivial rather than a rare ability, "that's genuinely impressive."
Einar's smile widened, turning sharp and mocking as he tilted his head.
"What, did you really believe you were the only one capable of something like that?"
Adjusting his grip, he let the blade tilt forward slightly, its weight pressing into the ground just enough to crack the surface beneath it.
"This sword of mine has carved its way through dragons."
His gaze hardened.
"And today… it will be drenched in your blood."
Before the tension between them could snap into motion, however, a deafening roar suddenly tore through the sky above, violently interrupting the moment as a helicopter descended into view, its rotating blades slicing through the air with overwhelming force.
The side door slid open mid-flight, and without hesitation, a figure leapt out, not falling helplessly, but descending with deliberate control, like a projectile aimed directly at the ground.
The impact came an instant later.
The moment his feet touched the earth, the ground collapsed inward under the sheer force, sending a shockwave bursting outward as dust and debris exploded into the air, the impact carrying the overwhelming presence of something akin to a meteor striking the battlefield.
Every single gaze shifted toward the source of that impact.
Ashan clicked his tongue softly, irritation flashing across his face. "What now…?"
Einar, on the other hand, reacted very differently, as his eyes widened for a brief moment before a grin slowly spread across his face, one filled with unmistakable excitement as his senses picked up on a presence he recognized all too well.
'That presence… it can't be..'
As the dust cloud was gradually torn apart by the wind, the figure within began to emerge, revealing a tall, middle-aged man whose long white hair was tied neatly behind his head, while a thick beard framed his hardened expression; he wore a simple black jacket over a pair of worn jeans, yet despite the plain appearance, the sheer pressure he emitted made the space around him feel heavier.
Three swords rested upon his body; two secured at his waist, and one massive blade strapped across his back, each one radiating a presence that suggested they were anything but ordinary.
The moment Maren laid eyes on him, her composure shattered instantly.
"Ehh… SILAS?! Is that really him?!"
Before anyone could even process his arrival fully, two more figures descended from above, standing atop a large metallic platform that hovered steadily in the air, maintained by a high-grade spell as the young woman crouched slightly, her glowing mana-infused gloves channeling energy into the construct with precise control.
They were none other than Garrick and Sorin.
Rowan's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Sister… Sir Garrick… they came too?"
Across the academy, the atmosphere erupted into chaos as whispers and shouts spread like wildfire, the sheer number of high-ranking individuals gathering in one place pushing the situation beyond anything anyone had anticipated.
"Are you seeing this…? Three more S-rankers just showed up!"
"And not just any S-rankers… those are top-tier monsters!"
"They must've come because of the dragon.."
"What dragon? That masked guy made it disappear earlier!"
"Just watch… don't take your eyes off this.. we're about to witness something insane."
Narasha's expression tightened as she observed the scene carefully, her instincts screaming at her that the situation had just escalated into something far more dangerous than before.
'This is bad… three more variables just entered the field, and all of them are unpredictable.'
'What is Ashan going to do now?'
Ashan himself, for the first time since the confrontation began, felt genuine surprise creep in.
'These three… showing up now of all times?'
'They must have tracked the dragon golem here.'
Meanwhile, Silas had already locked onto his target.
"Oh my… my…" he murmured, a grin slowly spreading across his face as his sharp gaze settled on Einar, "would you look at what we have here.. our mighty S-rank battle mage who went and turned himself into a half-dragon."
Einar's grin widened in response.
"Silas."
Silas let out a low chuckle, his eyes glinting with dangerous amusement as he took a step forward.
"You look terrible," he continued, his tone almost casual, "what are you now, fifty… sixty? The only thing hiding your age is that body you're so proud of."
Einar's expression twitched slightly, though the excitement in his eyes only deepened.
Silas leaned forward just a fraction.
"Should I beat you up as a proper welcome?"
A pulse of anticipation ran through Einar.
"Yes," he replied without hesitation, his grin stretching wider, "that's exactly what I want."
Then, shifting his blade, he pointed it directly at Ashan.
"But before that… I'm going to take care of that bastard and rip his head off."
Silas turned his head.
And the instant his eyes fell upon Ashan, the atmosphere around him changed completely, as the casual amusement vanished and was replaced by something far colder, far heavier, his body going rigid as his fists clenched and his jaw tightened with barely contained fury.
The swords at his waist began to tremble faintly, as if resonating with the surge of killing intent pouring out of him.
Then he laughed.
Loudly.
Madly.
"YOU PIECE OF TRASH…!"
His voice roared across the battlefield, filled with raw, unfiltered rage.
"FINALLY… I FOUND YOU."
His grin twisted into something feral.
"PREPARE TO DIE BY MY HANDS."
Einar blinked, genuinely caught off guard by the sheer intensity of Silas's reaction, as he had never, not even once in all his years, seen the man lose control to this extent.
'What the hell is this…?'
Silas reached for his swords, clearly ready to move,
but before he could take even a single step forward, Einar appeared directly in front of him and slammed a hand against his chest, stopping him in place.
"Hold it right there," Einar said sharply, his tone turning possessive as his eyes burned with irritation, "what exactly do you think you're doing? That one is mine."
His grip tightened slightly.
"My prey."
Silas immediately knocked his hand away, his expression hardening.
"Your prey?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with disbelief, "don't make me laugh… I saw everything on my way here, and you were moments away from getting your ass handed to you."
Einar's face darkened instantly.
"What did you just say?"
"That wasn't me losing," he snapped back, his voice rising slightly as his irritation flared, "it was a warm-up, the real fight was about to start, and that's when you decided to stick your nose in."
Silas let out a sharp, mocking breath.
"Yeah? And you expect me to believe that?" he shot back, his gaze turning cutting, "you were clearly outmatched."
He pointed directly at Ashan.
"He's mine."
Einar's killing intent surged in response.
"Not happening, you old bastard."
Silas stepped forward without hesitation.
"Stay out of this."
"Make me."
"What, you want to embarrass yourself even more than you already have?"
"At least I don't run my mouth after getting pushed around."
"YOU…!"
Instead of keeping their attention on Ashan, the very person both of them had been intent on killing just moments ago, the two S-rankers completely derailed, falling into a heated argument right there on the battlefield, hurling curses and insults at each other with such intensity that it felt less like a life-or-death situation and more like a long-standing grudge finally finding an outlet.
Watching this unfold, Garrick, who had just landed and taken in the situation, slowly raised a hand to press against the bridge of his nose, his expression sinking into one of deep, unfiltered disappointment as if he had expected chaos, but not this level of absurdity.
'These maniacs have completely lost their minds,' he thought grimly, exhaling through his nose.
'Do they even realize that the entire academy is watching this?'
For a brief moment, his gaze flickered toward the recording devices and distant spectators before returning to the two arguing monsters, his irritation deepening.
'At the very least… they can't hear the things these idiots are saying.'
Not far from him, Maren narrowed her eyes, her sharp gaze moving between Silas and Einar as she tried to piece together what exactly had triggered such an explosive reaction between the two.
'Those lunatics… don't tell me they're actually about to start fighting each other in this situation,' she thought, her disbelief evident even as her body remained tense and ready to react at any moment.
Meanwhile, the argument had already escalated beyond simple insults, as Silas suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Einar by the collar, pulling him closer as their so-called "conversation" continued at a dangerously close distance, neither willing to back down even a fraction.
Standing just a short distance away from them, Ashan watched the entire scene unfold, his shoulders trembling slightly as he struggled to suppress the laughter threatening to break free.
'Do they even remember that I'm still here?'
The thought alone made it harder to hold back.
For a brief moment, his mind drifted to the past, recalling a certain familiar face.
'Wasn't Kilsoo and I exactly like this when we first met?'
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
'Though when it comes to cursing… he was definitely worse than me.'
Shaking off the memory, Ashan casually reached into his space storage and pulled out a spare phone he had kept precisely for unexpected situations, his movements relaxed and completely unbothered despite the overwhelming presence surrounding him.
'This is way too good to ignore.'
Without making it obvious, he slowly turned his back on the two arguing S-rankers, adjusted the angle just enough, and snapped a selfie, perfectly capturing the absurdity of the moment behind him.