The Return Of The Exiled Villain

Swoop...

In the next instant, Gray’s figure vanished from in front of the golden-eyed vessel and reappeared directly behind Adrian’s body.

The rapier completed a single, almost gentle horizontal arc that passed through the space occupied by the possessed student.

There was no explosion of blood, visible wound, or even a dramatic shockwave of destructive force.

To the vast majority of the arena, it looked as if nothing had happened at all.

Gray simply lowered the rapier and stepped back once, expression returning to its usual calm detachment.

The elemental storm that had been raging around Adrian’s body continued for a fraction of a second longer, then began to flicker unevenly, as if the controlling will behind it had suddenly lost coordination.

The crowd’s reaction was immediate and confused.

”What was that?”

”Did he miss?”

”There was no impact... did the technique fail?”

”Why did he stop attacking?”

Students from every academy leaned forward, waiting for the next exchange that never came.

Even many of the professors frowned, unable to detect any conventional damage. The platform’s safety arrays remained silent.

No elimination light had flared.

Then the VIP section told a different story.

The Saintess of Hope and Light stood up so abruptly that her chair scraped against the floor. Her usual serene expression had shattered into open, unrestrained shock.

The luminous silver of her eyes was locked onto Gray with an intensity that made several nearby nobles instinctively lean away.

For a woman of her status and power to display such a reaction in public was almost unheard of.

At the same time, Aurora slowly crossed one leg over the other. Her eyes gleamed with sharp, delighted interest as she watched the black-robed figure on the platform.

She ran the tip of her tongue lightly across her lower lip, the gesture small but unmistakably appreciative.

The Emperor turned his head toward the Saintess and asked curiously:

”Saintess. What did you see?”

The entire VIP section fell silent. Every noble, every high-ranking observer, waited for her answer.

The Saintess did not look away from Gray. When she spoke, her voice was soft, yet it carried across the elevated seats with perfect clarity.

”I want that kid as my student.”

The words landed like a thunderclap.

For a moment, no one moved.

The idea that the Saintess of Hope and Light, the living representative of a Goddess, a figure who stood above nearly every political and martial interest in the kingdom, would publicly claim a student in the middle of the Inter-Academy Exchange was beyond anything the gathered powers had expected.

Several nobles visibly stiffened.

Gloria’s golden eyes narrowed to slits. Even the Northern Duchess raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise.

Before the shock could fully settle, a single sound cut through the arena.

Thump!

Adrian’s body collapsed forward onto the cracked platform as if every string holding it upright had been severed at once.

The golden light in his eyes snuffed out. The unstable halo above his head flickered once and vanished completely.

The raging Late King-stage aura that had pressed down on the entire stage dissipated into scattered elemental wisps that faded within seconds.

The vessel lay unmoving, breathing shallowly but no longer under any external control.

Only then did the true nature of the exchange become clear to those with sufficient perception.

Gray’s third move of the Soul Chasing Extremities, the Soul Reaving Pursuit, had never been aimed at the physical body.

The almost gentle arc of the rapier had targeted the connection itself: the spiritual tether linking Zephyrion’s divine consciousness to Adrian’s mortal vessel.

In a single, perfectly precise cut, that connection had been severed.

The former God of Shifting Winds had been forcibly ejected from the possession and thrown back into the mental realm, leaving the empty shell of the student behind.

It was not an attack that destroyed flesh or crushed aura, but an attack that ended the possession directly.

Fwip!

On the platform, Gray flicked the tip of his rapier once, as if clearing something invisible from the edge, and then slid the weapon back into its sheath.

He glanced down at the fallen form of Adrian for a brief moment before turning his gaze toward the Gloria side of the arena, waiting for his next opponent.

The referee needed several full seconds to process what he was seeing before his voice finally rang out, slightly unsteady.

”V-Victory... to Gray Vireux of Clementine’s Sword & Magic Academy!”

It took a while for the audience to recover from the shock.

But when it did, a tall 4th-year spear user with a solid reputation stepped forward, jaw tight, clearly trying to project confidence after what everyone had just witnessed.

He barely had time to settle into a stance.

Gray walked forward at a normal pace, raised his right hand, and delivered a single open-palmed slap across the spear user’s face.

The sound cracked through the air.

The student’s body left the platform entirely and vanished in a flare of elimination light before it could even hit the barrier.

The referee’s announcement came almost on reflex.

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

Gloria’s remaining count dropped again.

Another student was sent up, this time, an agile dual-dagger fighter known for speed. She tried to open with a rapid closing dash.

Gray’s foot shifted half a step. His fist met her midsection in a short, clean punch that folded her around the impact.

The elimination threshold triggered before she finished collapsing.

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

The pattern established itself with brutal clarity.

A heavy-axe 4th-year came next, roaring as he swung for an early decisive blow. Gray leaned slightly to the side, let the axe pass, and drove a knee into the man’s chest.

The force sent the student skidding backward across the stone until the safety arrays removed him from the stage.

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

The crowd’s earlier shock began transforming into a kind of numb, rising hysteria. Each match lasted only seconds.

There was no prolonged exchange, no visible technique, no drawn weapon.

Gray simply stepped in and ended the fight with the most basic physical strikes imaginable, whether that was slaps, punches, or kicks.

They were delivered with such a casual manner that the difference in level felt almost insulting.

A wind-affinity mage attempted to create distance with a burst of compressed air.

Gray swapped once, appeared at her flank, and tapped two fingers against her forehead. The elimination light flared instantly.

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

A shield-bearing defender set his stance and reinforced his guard with layered earth mana. Gray walked up to him, placed a hand on the edge of the shield, and shoved.

The defender flew backward as if struck by a siege engine and disappeared mid-air.

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

One after another they came.

A dual-sword user who tried to match speed.

A staff specialist who opened with a wide elemental sweep.

A close-combat grappler who lunged for a clinch.

A formation specialist who attempted to deploy a quick binding array.

A long-range archer who never even finished drawing the string.

Each encounter followed the same rhythm.

The Gloria student would begin their prepared opening. Gray would close the distance with either a single step or a short [Swap].

Then a slap, a punch, or a kick would land, almost lazily, yet carrying more than enough force to meet the tournament’s elimination threshold without unnecessary cruelty.

The announcements began to blur together under the continuous noise of the stands.

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

Gloria’s numbers fell in steady, demoralizing increments.

Eighteen became fifteen.

Fifteen became twelve.

Twelve became nine.

The remaining students on their side watched the procession with increasingly pale faces. Some clenched weapons hard enough to tremble.

Others simply stared, unable to form a coherent plan against an opponent who refused to treat any of them as worthy of real effort.

A particularly stubborn 4th-year swordswoman managed to last slightly longer than the others by immediately going all-out with a full-powered technique the moment the match started.

Golden sword light filled her half of the platform. Gray waited for the peak of the swing, stepped inside the arc, and struck her across the cheek with an open palm.

The technique collapsed, and she instantly vanished.

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

The psychological effect was cumulative.

Every student who walked onto the platform now did so under the weight of the previous results.

They had watched their peers removed by casual physical strikes, so the idea of even trying to resist felt increasingly abstract.

A pair of coordinated 3rd-years were sent up in quick succession in an attempt to change the rhythm.

The first lasted three seconds as he took a kick to the side that sent him rolling off the stage.

The second tried to use the brief distraction to launch a surprise attack from the opposite angle.

Gray turned his head, caught the incoming wrist, and flicked the student over his shoulder like discarded luggage.

Both eliminations registered almost back-to-back.

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

The referee’s voice had grown hoarse from repetition.

In the stands, the reactions had long since moved past simple surprise. Students from other academies watched with a mixture of awe and second-hand embarrassment.

Some had stopped cheering entirely and simply observed in silence.

Others kept up a continuous low murmur of disbelief each time another Gloria representative was removed with the same effortless finality.

Gray himself never changed expression, and he didn’t even draw his rapier again.

The attrition continued.

Nine remaining became seven.

Seven became five.

A final mid-tier 4th-year, one of the last students who still possessed enough composure to walk onto the platform without visible hesitation, set his feet and raised a heavy greatsword.

He managed to complete a single full swing.

Gray stepped past it, placed a hand against the student’s chest, and pushed. The greatsword user left the arena in a straight line and disappeared mid-flight.

”Victory to Gray Vireux!”

The platform was empty again.

Gloria Academy’s remaining students now numbered exactly four.