## CHAPTER 63: Erase
The world went white, a blinding, solar bleached void that swallowed the sky.
The *Apocalypse Nova* was never intended for a duel between students. It was a spell of absolute desolation, a siege-tier catastrophe meant to vaporize fortress gates and incinerate battalions. As the sphere of concentrated heat expanded from Alium's trembling palms, it threatened to turn everything within a fifty-yard radius into charred molecular dust. The reinforced magical barriers surrounding the training ground groaned, the hexagonal plates of energy flickering and hissing as they struggled to contain the artificial sun.
"Everyone, get back! Now!" Louisa's voice tore through the roar of the flames. She didn't hesitate, thrusting her staff forward to weave a secondary protective ward around the younger students, her face pale under the reflected glow of the blast.
At the epicenter of the inferno, Caspian stood his ground. He didn't blink. He didn't recoil. He simply took a deep, rhythmic breath, his thumb clicking the hilt of his black sword—a sharp, metallic *clack* that seemed to resonate through the heat. The thrill that had danced in his eyes moments ago had vanished, replaced by a cold, surgical focus.
"You relied on a jewel to find your strength," Caspian whispered, his voice somehow cutting through the thundering vacuum of the spell. "But a sword... a sword only relies on the soul."
Caspian dropped into a stance so low his chest nearly brushed the scorched earth. He gripped the hilt with both hands, his knuckles turning white.
"**Ninth Form: Anti-Cutter.**"
He didn't run. He didn't even seem to move. He simply *disappeared*.
To the spectators, it looked as if the giant sun Alium had created had been struck by a cosmic shadow. A thin, black streak of absolute nothingness bifurcated the *Nova*. For one heartbeat, the world fell into a terrifying, unnatural silence.
Then, the explosion imploded.
The fire didn't burst outward; it was sucked into a vacuum created by the impossible shear-force of Caspian's blade. The air rushed back into the void with a deafening, bone-shaking *CRACK*, extinguishing the solar flames as if they were a mere candle in a gale.
When the dust finally settled, the courtyard was a graveyard of silence.
Caspian stood ten paces behind Alium, his back to the noble. Slowly, methodically, he clicked his sword back into its leather scabbard. *Snap.*
Alium remained standing, his hands still outstretched, frozen in the posture of his failed godhood. The crimson glow of the catalyst had faded, leaving his skin an ashen, sickly grey. His uniform was shredded, flapping in the dying wind, and a thin, perfectly straight crimson line began to bead across his chest. It wasn't a lethal wound, but it was a mark that would never fade—a permanent scar of his hubris.
"How..." Alium choked out, his voice a dry rasp. "I had the power... of a god..."
"Power is nothing without a hand to guide it," Caspian said, the final seating of his blade signaling the end of the combat.
"How dare you... how dare you LECTURE ME!!" Alium screamed, his face contorting into a mask of pure, ugly rage. He tried to conjure a ball of flame, his fingers clawing at the air, but he froze mid-motion.
The backlash hit him like a physical hammer. The side effects of the mana catalyst—the price of borrowing power that wasn't his—began to tear him apart from the inside. He could feel his mana circuits burning, a sensation of liquid fire pouring through his soul.
"Argghh!"
He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest. His breathing was heavy, ragged, and wet as he struggled to stabilize his collapsing internal gates.
"Alium!" his teammates called out, their faces twisted in shock. They took a step forward but stopped. A noble duel was sacred; no interference was permitted until a party yielded or died.
"Arrggghhhhh!" Alium screamed again, gnawing on his teeth so hard his gums began to bleed. He was fighting a war against his own blood.
---
On the balcony, the atmosphere was grim.
"Was he really that crazy?" Louisa asked, her maternal worry for a student warring with her disgust. "To use a mana catalyst in a school duel... he's lucky to be alive."
"That blast wasn't half bad," Zerav remarked, trying to lighten the mood, though his eyes remained sharp. He turned to Edna. "Kind of reminds me of someone we know."
Edna huffed, looking away. "No way. Mine has much more finesse. That was just a crude explosion."
Silas remained silent, his eyes fixed on the struggling figure of Alium. But before Zerav and Edna could devolve into their usual bickering, another scream ripped through the air—a sound of such raw, unadulterated agony that it silenced the entire courtyard.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
"This is just sad to watch," Edna muttered, her expression softening into pity. She turned her back on the scene, unable to look at the broken noble any longer. "I'm going. This is over." She began to walk away, leaving the other three to witness the finale.
---
Caspian stepped through the settling ash until he stood directly in front of Alium. He looked down at the boy who had tried to vaporize him.
"Mr. Alium," Caspian said softly. "I can help you. It doesn't have to end with your death."
"I... cough..." Alium raised his head, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth. His mana veins were bulging, glowing a faint, dying purple.
"There's still light at the end of this tunnel," Caspian explained, his voice calm. "If you yield now, I can stabilize your circuits. I can erase the catalyst's residue."
Alium froze. He stared at Caspian, his vision blurring. "I would... rather die... than yield to a commoner," he whispered, the words coming out in a ragged, bloody hiss.
"Listen to yourself," Caspian said, a hint of genuine annoyance finally coloring his tone. "That's just your pride talking. If you don't get help in the next three minutes, you'll die. And even if you survive the night, your magic veins will be burnt to cinders. You'll never cast a spark again."
Caspian leaned closer, his shadow falling over Alium. "Is this how the great Alium Castamir wants to fall? Just another footnote in a history book? A spec of dust? You have a chance to be saved. Just. Yield."
"Never!!" Alium yelled, but the effort sent him into a violent coughing fit, more blood splattering onto the scorched stone.
"Alium, snap out of it!" Caspian's voice grew stern. "Do you want to end here? Another noble dead without leaving a real print in history? If you die now, your name will be forgotten within a generation. Your family will move on, and eventually, the name Castamir will crumble to dust and cease to exist. But if you choose to move forward... if you break free from this hollow pride... you might actually find real power. Power in bliss."
Alium coughed, his body trembling violently. As his consciousness began to flicker, his life flashed before him—not a grand epic, but a series of cold rooms, stern lectures, and the crushing weight of expectations. He saw himself ending there, a broken boy in a pile of ash. He realized, with a sudden, sharp clarity, that he was terrified of being forgotten.
With blood-red, teary eyes, he looked up at Caspian.
"I... yield," he whispered.
"What was that?" Caspian asked.
"I YIELD!!!" Alium screamed, the words echoing off the academy walls.
Immediately, Caspian leaned forward and placed a firm hand on Alium's shoulder.
"It won't end here," Caspian promised. He closed his eyes, drawing upon a technique that felt colder and deeper than any sword form.
"**Anti-Magic: Erase.**"
An unseen wave of nullification rippled out from Caspian's palm. It wasn't a blast; it was an erasure. The turbulent, overcharged mana flooding Alium's system didn't dissipate—it simply ceased to exist. The burning sensation in Alium's soul vanished instantly, replaced by a cool, hollow void. The relief was so sudden that Alium's eyes rolled back, and he slumped forward, unconscious, finally at peace.
The silence that followed was heavy. No one cheered; they were too stunned by the display of a power they didn't understand. Lyra was the first to break the trance, rushing onto the field to check Alium's pulse.
Caspian didn't wait for a thank you. He turned away, his gaze meeting Silas's up on the balcony. He gave a single, sharp nod, his face returning to its dull, emotionless mask. The "commoner" was back.
---
"Well," Zerav said, exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding. "That's over."
"Caspian has gotten better," Louisa whispered, her eyes wide with intrigue.
Suddenly, Edna, who had walked away minutes ago, appeared back at their side.
"It's over," she stated flatly.
Zerav and Louisa jumped. "You're back?" Zerav asked.
"Did you miss your afternoon nap, sweetheart?" Louisa teased, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
"Stop that!" Edna snapped, her cheeks puffing out in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.
"Why are you back, Edna?" Silas asked, his voice low. He knew Edna didn't double back for no reason.
"Well," Edna said, her playfulness vanishing. "As I tried to leave, I hit something. There's a barrier around us. I didn't notice it before because it's massive—it spans miles wide and high. I didn't want to break school property, so I came back."
"A barrier?" Silas asked. He tilted his head back, his eyes glowing a faint, predatory red as he zoomed in on the sky. High above, almost invisible against the twilight, he saw the faint, shimmering lattice of a high-level containment field.
"That's not school property," Silas said, his voice turning cold. "It's a cage. Designed to trap those within, conceal the area from the outside, and prevent any penetration from the interior."
"But how?" Louisa asked, her hand going to her throat. "The school day is over. There shouldn't be anyone here capable of casting something of this magnitude."
"We didn't just witness a duel," Silas said, his gaze shifting to the dark tree line beyond the training grounds. "We walked into a trap."
Zerav's head snapped to the side, his ears twitching as he focused on the rustle of the wind. "We're not alone."