Chapter 26
To be sincere, Jayden's current situation was almost laughable—if not outright ironic. Up until now, he'd been casually one-shotting every opponent like it was just a mild inconvenience, earning gasps, admiration, and even suspicion from the audience. Many believed he would eventually fall… but not like this. Not now, when his one-shot spree had become the highlight of the match. And yet, here he was—dripping wet, with his current most powerful skill completely sealed, and looking like a soaked cat in the middle of a battlefield.
"Come on! One-shot him for me!" a desperate voice rang from the stands.
It was Rictor. Face flushed, veins bulging, eyes filled with hope—or was that panic?—he was screaming like a mad gambler on his last chip. "SHOW US THAT AMAZING SCENERY AGAIN!"
But all their cheers were falling on deaf ears, because Jayden had a very real, very wet problem: Kael's water. The guy had drenched him from head to toe, effectively sealing his Flame Alchemy. That wasn't just inconvenient—it was crippling. And now Kael was charging at him like a juggernaut made of liquid doom.
To make matters worse, Jayden refused to purchase another Alchemist-type ability—not because he couldn't, but because he couldn't afford to spend the precious SP he'd been saving. That amount was too valuable. He needed it for something bigger. Something beyond this annoying match.
"This is getting really annoying," Jayden muttered, dodging swiftly to the side—only to watch in slow motion as Kael's water tendril curled unnaturally and slammed into him like a sledgehammer.
BOOM!
[-30 HP. 70/100 HP remaining.]
The system's cold, monotone voice echoed in his mind like an unwanted backseat driver.
"Damn you, System!" Jayden growled. "Switch to the Naruto System! Now!"
[Negative. 20 hours remaining before system switch is allowed.]
"Twenty hours?! Are you kidding me?!"
But before he could throw a tantrum or curse the heavens, Kael's dual water whips lashed out again. Jayden ducked under the first—just barely—but the second wrapped around his ribs and flung him like a ragdoll several meters into the air.
[-15 HP. 55/100 HP remaining.]
The entire arena was deathly quiet. You could hear a pin drop—or better yet, Jayden's ego shattering. The audience who had once cheered him as a prodigy, a rising god of battle, now watched in stunned disbelief as he was tossed around like a beginner.
"What... what's happening?" someone whispered.
"Come on, Jayden!" Rictor screamed like a man possessed. "Don't hold back! Use that wind attack! Use your visual prowess! My money is going down the drain!!"
Now that part hit Jayden right in the nerves. He was this close to launching a fireball at Rictor himself if he could. The "visual prowess" Rictor was screaming about? That was his Sharingan. And the "wind attack"? Rasengan. Both locked. Both inaccessible.
Thanks to the system timer.
Meanwhile, Kael was grinning like a man who had already tasted victory. "So this is all you can do? Pathetic. All this hype, and you can't even stand in front of real power."
The funny thing? Kael was in the mid-stage of the Purple Plane. Jayden? Merely in the 6th stage of the Blue Plane—a full plane below. Yet Kael had the nerve to call him a bully?
Jayden didn't care for insults. Normally, he'd just stare blankly, take the hit, and move on. But this time was different. This time, he had something to fight for.
The winner of this match gets one free wish granted by the Scarlet Faction. A wish that could be anything—including the chance to leave this cursed faction and finally find peace.
He clenched his fists. "I can't lose now."
His only ability left: The Silver Alchemist. It wasn't flashy, it wasn't strong, and it was barely considered useful—but it was all he had.
Kael dashed in for the final blow.
Jayden's eyes sharpened. With a swift, precise movement, he drew a transmutation circle into the wet ground—right beside some broken stones scattered from Kael's earlier barrage.
The next second, a flash of light erupted—and when it cleared, two silver daggers gleamed in his hands.
"Wait… did he just… use another element ?"
"Silver? Is that metal?!"
"If that idiot Rictor was right, and he has fire, wind, and now metal—then he's a triple-element user!"
In the grand elders' viewing box, the two old grand elders exchanged a silent nod of approval. But Grand Elder Jake didn't join in the praise. His sharp eyes narrowed.
"I didn't sense any metal-elemental fluctuation from him before," he thought, "Not until he drew that strange circle… What kind of ability is this?"
"This boy… we'll need to keep a very close watch on him." Jake thought.
Jayden lunged forward with his two silver daggers, his breath sharp and shallow, every movement a desperate gamble. His blades scraped against the spiritual water armor surrounding Kael, each strike fast, precise, and fluid—yet barely enough. Despite his agility, Jayden took hit after hit from Kael's relentless counterattacks. His HP continued to plummet.
-5 HP, -6 HP, -3 HP… 35/100 HP remaining.
The cold tone of the system's voice echoed in his head like the ticking of a countdown clock to his death.
"If this keeps up… I might die," Jayden thought grimly. He didn't know what would happen when HP hit zero, but he wasn't keen on finding out.
On the sidelines, Rictor screamed like a madman, his face beet red and veins bulging. "Come on, man! Use your visual prowess! Use your wind ball or whatever! My savings, bro! My entire savings are on you!"
The crowd shot Rictor looks ranging from confusion to pity. Some even whispered, "Is he losing his mind?"—but many were starting to think the same thing. Why wasn't Jayden using his usual overwhelming flame power?
Yet amidst the chaos, something else was catching their eyes—Jayden's dagger skills.
"Whoa… he's actually kinda good with daggers," someone muttered.
"Now that you mention it, yeah… Look at his footwork!"
Jayden didn't notice the growing murmur of respect. He was too busy trying not to die. His body moved like it had a mind of its own—sidestepping, ducking, twisting mid-air, countering with a parry—despite never having trained with daggers before.
"Why does it feel so… natural?" he wondered between heart-pounding dodges. His muscles reacted instinctively, as if guided by experience he didn't possess.
Kael growled, his pride slowly unraveling. People were murmuring—laughing even. Him. A mid-stage Purple Plane warrior… struggling against someone an entire plane below?
"This is disgraceful," someone whispered.
Kael heard it. His fury boiled.
"I'LL END THIS!" he roared, summoning a massive water hammer, glistening and swirling with concentrated spiritual energy. The ground shook under its pressure.
Jayden's HP was now at 18.
"One hit and I'm done," he thought. His gaze sharpened. "No more retreating. I'm betting everything on this."
Kael charged with a war cry.
Jayden moved.
He hurled one dagger, Kael easily swatting it aside with a flick of spiritual water. But before it spun far, Jayden threw the second—and it struck the first mid-air.
A sharp spark burst from the contact, a blinding flare of light erupting inches from Kael's face.
The moment the spark lit up, Jayden's right hand shot forward, white gloves materializing from thin air.
Kael's hammer was already descending.
"You lose," Kael sneered.
But Jayden, expressionless as ever, simply whispered, "No. You lose."
Then he snapped his fingers.
BOOM!
A massive explosion of red-hot flame erupted from the spark point, engulfing Kael in a swirling inferno that burst outward like a raging sun. The arena trembled. Heat swept over the crowd like a tidal wave, forcing them back.
Everyone gasped, mouths agape.
"He used it," someone whispered. "His flame… He can still use it!"
They had all believed his flame element was gone… but they were wrong.
Smoke and ash blanketed the stage. Every pair of eyes was fixed on the settling dust.
Then—through the haze—Jayden appeared, kneeling, covered in soot and blood… yet breathing.
Kael was still standing.
Rictor's face turned pale as a sheet. "No… No… Nooo—" he sobbed, hugging himself as if mourning a dead friend.
Then—a thud.
Kael's body finally crashed to the ground. Unconscious.
The arena fell into stunned silence.
"…He won," someone whispered.
"He… won?" another echoed.
Then came the applause.
It started with Rictor, who stood up and clapped with a mix of relief and unhinged joy, tears still streaking his face. "YES! LET'S GOOO!!!"
The clapping spread like wildfire until the entire arena stood and roared in thunderous approval.
Even the Grand Elders nodded, their faces serious but clearly impressed.
"He fought above his plane. He strategized. He persevered," one elder murmured.
But Jayden's mind was elsewhere. His face didn't change. His expression remained the same—cold, unreadable—but his gaze flicked toward the system notification.
> Quest Failed: One Shotter. You have failed to one-shot Kael.
He blinked, shocked. "What? But I literally—"
> Yes, but that was after a drawn-out battle. Too slow. No bonus reward granted.
"Stupid system," Jayden muttered under his breath. "I nearly died for this."
A voice broke the moment.
"You have truly proven yourself," said the grand elder at the center. "Per the terms agreed by Grand Elder Jake, you are granted a wish—anything within our power, and it shall be fulfilled."
Everyone held their breath.
This was it—the moment that could define Jayden's rise. A chance to ask for treasures, techniques, a mentor, a weapon, a life changing artifact. The crowd buzzed with speculation.
Jayden stepped forward.
The wind stilled.
Eyes locked on him.
Then he spoke.
"I wish to leave this faction."
---
The vast selection hall fell into a sudden, suffocating silence.
The moment Jayden's wish echoed across the room, it was as if time itself had paused. Elders froze mid-thought. Candidates stopped mid-breath. Even the flames of the ceremonial torches seemed to flicker uncertainly, reflecting the absurdity of what had just been said.
"I want to leave the Scarlet Faction."
Those words shouldn't have been possible. Not here. Not now. Not from any body.
Hundreds of eyes bore into Jayden's motionless figure, his face a blank slate of indifference, the iconic poker face that had bewildered many throughout the trials. The weight of the Scarlet Faction's legacy loomed overhead—one of the Three Great Pillars, the S-Rank colossus revered across empires—and here stood a boy who had just turned down what thousands would beg and bleed for.
"Are you insane!?" one of the elders finally erupted, his voice thunderous with disbelief. He slammed his palm on his table, the ancient wood groaning beneath the weight of his frustration.
Another elder leaned forward, eyes twitching. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. A great wish to change your fate… and you want to use it to leave?"
"I want to leave the Scarlet Faction," Jayden repeated, his voice emotionless, his gaze unwavering, as if this was the most mundane thing in the world.
The Grand Elder's brow twitched violently. 'This kid… he's not just insane. His mental state might be an enigma beyond comprehension,' he thought, visibly shaken. Even lunatics wouldn't waste a wish like this.
Before the tension could reach its peak, another grand elder—the one named Jake—stepped forward, his voice sharp. "That wish is nullified."
Jayden slowly turned toward him. Though his expression remained stone-cold, deep within, a storm brewed. Nullified? That man had tormented him all day, and now he had the gall to retract the promise?
"Why?" Jayden asked calmly, but inside he imagined nothing more than ripping Jake's head off.
Jake smirked. "Simple. You came here of your own free will. It is only right you stay."
Jayden opened his mouth to protest—
"Enough!" the Grand Elder interjected. "The selection is complete. Those who passed will now be escorted to their assigned rooms. Those who failed… you know the way out."
With that, the golden banners of the Scarlet Faction began to retract. The once-roaring crowd started to disperse. Some walked away with heads held high, honored to be accepted. Others, rejected and ashamed, vanished into the shadows. But those who had bet against Jayden wore the darkest expressions of all.
"That damned poker-faced freak!" a young noble barked, his face red with fury. "I lost a fortune betting on him failing!"
"Why don't you challenge him and reclaim your pride?" his friend suggested.
The noble froze. The memory of Jayden obliterating warriors stronger than him with a snap replayed in his mind like a nightmare. A bead of sweat dripped down his face. "…Let's just forget that idea."
Meanwhile, at the edge of the hall, Rictor was grinning like a devil. "For a moment, I thought I was ruined. But that kid… he made me richer. Not by much, but still... satisfying." His chuckle echoed like a greedy spirit enjoying a harvest.
As the crowd thinned, Mephina approached Jayden, her expression unreadable. "Why?" she asked quietly. "Why don't you want to join? People would kill for this chance."
Jayden turned to her, his blank face still locked in place. "Nothing."
Mephina narrowed her eyes. She had healed his body—his HP was full, his muscles stronger than ever. But whatever emotional scars he carried were untouched. Unseen. Still bleeding.
"This is your room," she finally said, gesturing toward a blue door labeled 12.
Jayden entered without a word. Before anyone could wish him goodnight, the door slammed shut.
Mephina blinked. "He really is… incomprehensible."
'Does he even feel anything?' she wondered, watching the closed door with an unreadable expression. 'A guy like that… probably hasn't smiled in years.'
Beside that door, Room 13, Rictor entered his own room and casually said, "'Night," before closing it, a smug grin still painted on his face.
---
Elsewhere, Deep Within the Academy...
A long, ancient hallway stretched into silence, cloaked in darkness and mystery.
Jake walked briskly through it, alone.
This was forbidden ground—The Sealed Gallery, a sacred place restricted to the everyone on the Scarlet Faction.
Jake paused before an elegant painting of serene beauty: rolling hills, lush forests, shimmering oceans, all beneath a golden sky. He raised his hand and began to form hand seals, swift and precise.
Clap.
The seals pulsed with energy, and he pressed his palm against the painting.
A brilliant flash of light erupted, the artwork shimmering like water before becoming a swirling portal. Jake stepped through without hesitation.
Suddenly, he was no longer in a hallway—but within the painting's world.
He soared through the dreamscape at incredible speed, past seven great mountains, each radiating unimaginable spiritual energy. At the heart, the central mountain rose above the clouds, majestic and divine.
Hovering above it, meditating mid-air, was a man.
His white robes flowed like liquid starlight. His middle sized white hair hair drifted weightlessly. He looked no younger than fifty, but the energy around him was ancient—primal.
Jake dropped to one knee. "Master. I've fulfilled your order... but the results are devastating."
The man's eyes remained closed. "All of them?" His voice was deep. Calm. Yet it held the power to shatter stone.
Jake's fists clenched until his knuckles bled. "Yes. The Necturn Faction… has been wiped out."
Silence.
Then, the master let out a quiet sigh.
"Those fools really went that far…" he murmured. "He's going to be furious when he returns."
Jake looked up. "Should we strike back? Give the order. I'll wipe them out myself."
"No," the master said without opening his eyes. "It will only weaken us. We need every hand we can get… especially when the seal breaks."
"Yes, Master."
"Any promising recruits this year?"
"Yes. Two." Jake's voice held a note of intrigue. "One has already awakened the Emerald Halcyon — a rare visual prowess from the lineage of the Second Master."
"And the other?" the old man asked.
"Unclear," Jake admitted. "His abilities are strange. Unpredictable. But… potent. Extremely potent."
The floating man's brow twitched for the first time. "So… Arcnus's descendant has surfaced. Interesting."
"Keep watch on them both," he ordered. "Cultivate them. Prepare them. When the seal breaks… we'll need every help we can get."
Jake bowed once more and vanished into the skies.
The old man remained alone, meditating. Yet a faint tremble passed through the winds.
"He's will come back," the man whispered, his tone laced with unease. "When he learns what they did to his faction… I hope this world don't burns."
Somewhere far from the Scarlet Faction...
The battlefield was nothing short of catastrophic.
Corpses of trees lay uprooted. The faction's once-majestic stronghold was now a giant crater, still sizzling from residual energy. The air reeked of ash, fear… and shame.
Several men lay scattered like broken dolls—charred, bloodied, beaten, and utterly ruined. Limbs twisted at unnatural angles, bones shattered like brittle candy, and more than one man looked like he had gone three rounds with a dragon—and lost all three.
A single, battered man stirred among the wreckage, his skin so scorched he looked like a walking charcoal sketch. Eyes fluttered open, revealing pain, confusion… and trauma.
"He… he's a monster…" the man wheezed, coughing out a puff of black smoke. "I swear I saw flames... and lightning... and a frying pan."
Another man groaned nearby, his body covered in deep cuts that looked like they'd been inflicted by a blender on rage mode. "Y-yeah…We..... a whole B-rank faction... taken down by one teenager. A random, unfazed, stone-faced teenager. You know how humiliating that is?"
"I don't even think he's human…" the first man whispered, staring up at the still-burning clouds. "At one point, I saw three of him. Then one of him. Then—then he teleported behind me and whispered 'Nothing personal.'" He shivered violently. "It was very personal, Cletus. Very personal."
"D-do you think we were hallucinating?" the second one asked, eyes twitching. "I mean, maybe we passed out after eating those expired beans. Maybe this is a bad dream?"
"Yeah? And in this bad dream, did you also see him use fire, lightning, clones, and teleportation like he was flipping through a menu?"
Before the second man could respond, a sound froze the very air around them.
Tap... tap...
Footsteps.
"Wait… don't tell me—don't tell me he took down the Faction Leader already!" the first guy panicked, his voice hitting a high-pitched squeak.
"That fast?! H-he's supposed to be a Peak Orange Plane expert!"
"Yeah, and I'm supposed to be retired by now! Look where we are, Marvin!"
"…Better faint now," the first guy hissed urgently.
"Good idea," Marvin whispered.
Without hesitation, both men flopped back onto the ground with dramatic groans and tongues out, pretending to be unconscious like badly paid extras in a stage play.
Tap… tap… tap…
The footsteps grew louder.
Then… silence.
After several painfully long seconds, the footsteps moved past them, fading into the distance.
"…He's gone?" the first man whispered from the side of his mouth, daring to peek through a half-lidded eye.
Marvin didn't respond. He had passed out for real.
---
The figure who had passed them moved like a shadow, his presence subtle yet heavy.
A young man stepped out from the base of the obliterated faction. The moonlight caught his brown overcoat as it fluttered behind him like the cloak of a tragic hero. His light brown skin glistened with dust and battle residue, complementing the vibrant short yellow hair atop his head. His glowing yellow eyes illuminated the darkness with a quiet intensity.
He took one final step outside the ruined stronghold, a trail of devastation behind him, and whispered with a voice heavy with sorrow:
"…He's not here again."
His gaze drifted to the endless skies above, filled with guilt and loss.
"No records. No sightings. No trace of him left behind…"
He pulled something from within his coat—a golden amulet, radiant even in the gloom. The letter N was carved at its center, pulsing faintly with a mystical glow.
Holding it tightly, he closed his eyes and whispered,
"I promise…I promise... I will find you, Young Master."
The night wind answered him, carrying away the words like a sacred vow etched into the very fabric of fate.
To be continued.