Chapter 3
Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW
Chapter 3: Just Like in the Past
When the "Flame Challenge"—composed of one magic automaton, two advanced automatons, and eight intermediate automatons—appeared on the training ground, the stands buzzed with excitement. Many students expected to witness the Queen of Storms herself in action.
Instead, a black-haired boy with dark eyes stepped into the arena. His slender frame, plain longsword, and flimsy shield made him seem vulnerable to even a single charge from an intermediate automaton.
The nobles of the Senator’s faction scowled. They assumed this was Fina’s ploy to avoid spies infiltrating her team, a breach of their political games. Several sent messengers to summon reinforcements, eager to pressure her.
Unfazed by their scheming, Fina silently observed the calm boy.
In that moment, the boy transformed. He became a blade unsheathed—sharp, brilliant, impossible to ignore. For Midi, battle was as natural as breathing after two decades of struggle. Gripping his sword, he shed all hesitation, leaving only raw determination.
“I’ll show you my swordsmanship, my power… and my resolve,” Midi murmured, scanning the crowd.
The eleven automatons before him formed a layered defense. Eight intermediate automatons acted as meat shields, mimicking bull-headed charges with terrifying speed. Two advanced automatons served as agile guards, combining the swift claws of Cat Demons with mutual healing abilities. The magic automaton, modeled after a mutated fire creature, wielded deadly fire meteors capable of one-shotting Midi.
Even seasoned transmuters struggled against this setup. In the Magic Academy’s prime, fewer than 5% of students cleared this trial. Only five in a hundred withstood the flames.
Yet that made the challenge worth conquering.
To everyone’s shock, Midi discarded his shield and gripped his sword with both hands. He charged like an arrow loosed from a bow.
“He’s attacking *first*?” Gasps erupted. Without his shield, a single collision could break bones.
“Is he suicidal?” Lilian sneered, eyeing Sigmund. The gunslinger shrugged, equally baffled.
“Interesting,” Fina whispered. Having cleared this challenge herself, she knew what the automatons would do next. How would this reckless boy respond?
The Queen of Storms leaned forward, captivated.
Metal joints screeched as the eight intermediate automatons charged. Despite their bulk, they surged forward like cannonballs, kicking up dust and howling winds. The ground shook beneath their assault.
Most would’ve panicked. Yet Midi’s face stayed calm, as if facing a winter breeze. He accelerated, meeting the charge head-on. At the last moment, he pivoted—a flicker of white light slipping through the gaps.
Time seemed to freeze.
When the dust settled, Midi stood unscathed.
Sigmund and Lilian exchanged stunned looks. The charge’s weakness was simple: once launched, it couldn’t change direction. Predicting their paths let one evade effortlessly—in theory. But under real combat stress, with dust blinding eyes and fear clouding minds, who could execute such precision?
Yet this pampered noble had. Flawlessly.
Fina exhaled softly, reclining like a lazy cat. She closed her eyes, ignoring the battlefield.
“Not watching, Miss Fina?” Sigmund asked.
“No need. It’s over.”
Indeed, Midi had breached the frontline, reaching the advanced automatons at the formation’s heart. Their healing made them priority targets.
Though outnumbered, the level 16 automatons moved stiffly compared to real monsters. To Midi, a veteran of second awakening, their motions seemed sluggish. He danced around their claw strikes, closing the distance.
As he passed one, he reversed his grip and stabbed backward without looking. The blade pierced the joint between arm and torso, shattering its core. The automaton collapsed, healing skill unused.
Twenty seconds later, the second guard fell, sparks sputtering from its cracked skull.
Without their shields and healers, the magic automaton posed little threat. Midi channeled his momentum into a brutal slash—devoid of demon god power, yet overwhelming. The strike shattered its fiery shield and sheared through its neck.
A metallic *clunk* echoed as the head hit the ground. The battle ended.
Sheathing his sword, Midi waved at the red-haired girl in the stands and smiled. It was habit—a silent “I’m fine” to the woman he loved, unchanged through the years.
Just like in the past.
