Became a Demon with Pregnancy System-Chapter 75: I… lost

Marissa, still composed, offered a polite smile.

"You don’t have to worry, Referee Adrian," she said calmly. "I won’t be summoning it."

She gestured toward the unconscious wolf beast near Nate.

"As you can see, it’s already done its job."

Inside the contract space, Luke scoffed.

"Seriously, that was nothing."

Marissa’s inner voice screamed.

"NOTHING?! You just made half the academy faint!"

Luke let out a lazy chuckle.

"If they can’t handle that, they’re weak," he said flatly. "What’s the point of being a mage if they cry over a little pressure?"

Marissa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I swear, sometimes I wonder if you’re actually here to help or just causing chaos for fun."

Luke’s smirk was almost audible.

"A little of both."

Nate, still reeling from the absurdity of it all, took a shaky breath.

Then—

He bowed.

A full ninety-degree bow.

"Marissa Jones, I officially admit defeat!"

His voice rang loud and clear.

The few conscious students stared at him.

Dead silence.

Then—

A few snickers.

"You’re just giving up like that?" Marissa raised an eyebrow.

"Yes! Absolutely!" Nate nodded furiously. "There’s no point in continuing—even if I won, it’d only be because you let me!"

Marissa exhaled, folding her arms.

"You’re Tanya Reed’s disciple. Shouldn’t you have more backbone than this?"

Nate hesitated.

That hit hard.

Could he really let Tanya down?

A moment passed.

Then another.

And then—Nate straightened up.

"...Fine," he muttered, his posture shifting.

His expression hardened.

"I’ll fight."

Marissa’s lips curved into a smile.

"That’s more like it."

With a signal from Adrian Moore, the battle resumed.

Marissa’s Dark Mandala Flower came to life, its ominous petals unfurling like shadowy tendrils.

Nate’s stance shifted, his muscles tensing.

For the next few minutes, flames and lightning clashed against dark vines and devouring petals.

The more Nate fought... the more he realized something terrifying.

Her plant magic was cheating.

It wasn’t just resisting his attacks—

It was absorbing them.

Every time his fire struck the Dark Mandala Flower, it fed off the heat, twisting and growing stronger.

And his own magic was being turned against him.

"This is ridiculous," Nate muttered, grinding his teeth.

Marissa tilted her head, pretending not to understand.

"Anything wrong?"

Nate folded his arms tight.

"This isn’t fair!"

Marissa regarded him in amusement.

"Magic isn’t fair."

Nate pressed on.

With a bark, he gave everything remaining strength.

But—

The Dark Mandala Flower absorbed it.

Then—

It retaliated.

A strobe of energy surged out of the flower and hit Nate square in the chest.

His vision blurred.

And before he knew it—

He was out of magic.

"I... lost," Nate said and exhaled sharply.

Marissa nodded, flicking the dust off her sleeve.

"You did well," she offered plainly.

Nate blinked.

"Huh?"

"You were in the hole, yet you pushed on."

He stared at her for a second.

Then—smiled.

"...Thanks."

Before it completely penetrated his brain, the Colosseum doors were blasted open.

Eight figures entered with the stance of masters.

The arrogance dripped off from their eyes.

Chilling pressure overcame the room.

"Looks like we got here just in time," one of them remarked lazily.

Marissa’s face fell.

Luke laughed.

"Finally," he murmured.

"Some real show."

"Alright, that concludes the Colosseum Tournament for today. The public resources for the entire department this semester will be allocated to the summoning department," Professor Xavier announced, his voice cutting through the air with finality.

The applause greeted the crowd with deafening congratulations.

A collective wave of despair rippled through the freshmen. Witnessing the thrilling duels was one thing, realizing they had lost everything was entirely another.

Marissa’s acting nice made sense: she did not seem a person who drew the battle to her momentum when her opponent was weakened. Even Professor Xavier didn’t fault Marissa for the decision.

Still, Nate Dawson was left in complete disbelief.

Did she just give up?

He blinked while he scarcely processed. She quit, no words, no waffling, put the victory in his hand. He had called for a fierce battle; she had given him a rewards package.

Once it hit him—

That means every ounce of resource for the semester is now his.

His mouth almost fell open in shock. He could barely contain himself.

Without thinking, Nate did the one thing that shocked everyone.

"Thank you, Aunt!" he yelled, bending down at a full ninety degrees before Marissa.

He might even have gushed a full kneel in senseless gratitude were they not so many.

The Colosseum fell silent.

The freshmen were left speechless.

What. The. Hell.

A collective pause. Then, murmurs.

"Did he just say... Aunt?"

"Wait, wait, what did I just hear?"

"Did he seriously call Marissa his aunt?"

Some students sat there, mouths agape, still struggling to process the moment.

Others nearly fell off their seats.

"The hell kind of family is this?!" someone finally burst out.

Even some of the faculty members exchanged puzzled looks.

"You’re telling me this guy just got an entire semester’s worth of resources and is now bowing like she’s his benefactor?!"

"You don’t understand! He basically got reborn just now! If I were him, I’d probably start calling her Big Sister Marissa and offering my life in servitude!"

The reactions were a chaotic mix of envy, shock, and sheer disbelief.

Meanwhile, Marissa simply chuckled.

It was just a competition, and she had no regrets. She had gained valuable insights into Nate’s strength—and, more importantly, she had preserved her own energy.

As the conversations escalated, a new tension suddenly filled the air.

A laugh.

A mocking laugh.

Eight figures stepped into the arena, their footsteps calm, unhurried—but carrying an undeniable presence.

Unlike the fresh-faced students who had been wide-eyed with excitement earlier, these newcomers oozed confidence.

They moved with the ease of people who knew they were superior.

Their very presence made the air thicker, the pressure heavier.

At the forefront stood a young man with a trademark smirk—his expression a perfect mix of amusement and arrogance.

Drake Vadis.