My Soul card is a Reaper-Chapter 1030: Dreams of the Past: The World Tournament (Part-8)

Chapter 1030: Dreams of the Past: The World Tournament (Part-8)

Behind them shimmered their Arcana Spirits—twin spirits in the form of a massive eagle woven from wind and a lion made of moss and stone. Beautiful, dangerous.

On the other side, Eon yawned. "Another pair of mediocre opponents. How cute."

Rael shrugged, "The tournament is only filled with all rank-4s or rank-5s. They aren’t obviously a match for either of us."

"So, what’s the plan?" As Eon asked, Rael shrugged again. "Same as before. Let’s finish it instantly and return."

It went exactly the same as before the battle.

They got onto the battle platform and just stood there.

The timer began ticking down toward the start of the match.

Serelis frowned. "No Arcana Spirit summon?"

Lirel tilted her head. "They underestimate us. You know, Heavenly Academy is filled with a bunch of arrogant humans. I don’t know why our instructor acts so cheerful around them."

Serelis nodded.

The moment the battle began, both twins charged, Serelis lifted into the air, her wind coiling like tornado strands, while Lirel surged forward, rock-hard vines ripping through the floor.

But once again, Eon raised one hand. Her eyes, glowing, were the last thing those two sisters saw it.

The Time was frozen one more time.

Wind halted in mid-air. Lirel froze mid-step, one foot half-buried in the broken ground. Even their Arcana Spirits stalled, caught like puppets in an invisible web.

And then, Rael made his move.

He dashed forward with his soul energy enveloping his body, empowering his physical strength.

With his physical strength reaching that of a rank-7, everything was just a walk in the park for Rael.

With casual precision, he punched Serelis in the stomach mid-air, just below the ribs. He didn’t aim to hurt. Hence, he didn’t use his full strength. Just enough to knock her out of the battle platform.

He then turned, vaulted into the air with a light flip, and delivered a smooth spin-kick to Lirel’s side, sending her flying off her frozen path.

Once again, it was a punch and a kick. And when time resumed, Serelis and Lirel, still mid-motion, suddenly reacted to the blows that had already landed.

"URGH!"

They flew backward at the same time, crashing into the outer wall of the arena, and bounced off, falling over the boundary lines.

The match was already over.

The proctor blinked once. Then again. "Match over. Victory to Rael and Eon of the Heavenly Academy."

Back on the ground, Rael turned and offered a palm.

Eon slapped it with a grin. "Nice timing, as usual."

"Same to you," he replied.

As they walked back toward their team, the crowd in the stands erupted in massive cheers this time. They didn’t care how it happened. But one time. It is a miracle. Two times. It is a skill.

*

Once again, with 1:1 on both sides, the decider of the match came to the team battle.

The skies over the tournament arena dimmed slightly as the proctor’s voice thundered again.

"Final round! The team battle between Heavenly Academy and Takshashila Academy shall now begin!"

Yudhisthira stood ahead of others, carrying his spear Arcana spirit.

Beside him was Bheema, taller, broader, wild-haired, and grinning like he couldn’t wait to smash something. He had gauntlets that hummed heavily when clenched.

Nuada Airgetlám was behind them. The silver-haired boy’s left arm looked like it was made of entirely silver instead of normal skin. In his hand, the legendary Arcana Spirit Claidheamh Soluis, also known as the Sword of Light.

Next to him stood Qin Shi Huang, proud even as a boy of eleven. He didn’t summon his Arcana spirit at all.

And at the very end was Beowulf, his golden hair tied in short braids, sword across his back, a massive wolf spirit stalking beside him.

They stood in a 2:2:1 formation.

Across the field stood their opponents from Ellondir Academy. It was filled with three archers and two mages.

The proctor raised his hand. "Begin!"

"Go." Beowulf gave the order.

Yudhisthira stepped forward, calling his spirit. "Soul skill: Dharma Chakram."

Five Golden discs spun around him. He pointed at the opponent team, trying to attack them all in order to split them up so that they can battle them 1vs1 instead.

However, before he even gets to launch the golden discs at the opponents, one of the two mages unleashes the soul skill, summoning thick roots from the earth. They erupted at the same time, right beneath her opponents, and everyone from Team Celestials had their feet trapped by it.

"Hmpf, just these stupid roots." Bheema reached out to the roots and attempted to tear them off.

Qin Shi Huang expression turned serious when he saw something. He instantly warned. "No, don’t..."

But his warning was too late.

Just as Bheema tore one of the roots off and freed his right leg, an explosive energy was released from the roots, causing an explosion.

*Boom!

Boom!

The dust blew up like a thundercloud as Bheema was flung backward, landing on his back with a grunt. A red burn flared over his shoulder. The magical roots shimmered faintly and retracted into the ground.

"Trap skill cards," Qin muttered coldly, scanning the arena. "That wasn’t just a root-binding. They embedded an explosive spell in those. We didn’t even see while they were adding it to the soul skills."

"Damn Elves. I thought they were nice and simple people. They are shrewd, too." Bheema rolled back to his feet and clenched his gauntlets tighter, the metal now glowing faintly red. "Now I’m really mad."

Across the field, the Ellondir Academy formation hadn’t moved. The three archers stood in a perfect triangle, longbows crackling with spirit arrows, each aimed at a different target.

The two mages were behind them, calmly weaving more earth and wind spells together, layering their terrain with traps and barriers.

"Those mages are trouble," Yudhisthira calmly stated. "Their attributes go well together."

"We don’t let them." Beowulf stepped forward, eyes locked on the center archer. "We scatter. Pair off if needed. Smash them down."

"Split up?" Nuada’s silver arm twitched. "We’ll lose coordination."

"We never had team coordination," Beowulf replied in a serious tone. "But they had it. So, the best course of action is to disrupt that teamwork."

There was a brief pause.

Then Yudhisthira stepped forward. "Fine. Let’s end this with fire."

Qin gave a regal nod. "As long as we don’t lose."

"Try not to," Beowulf called back—and then leapt forward like a fired arrow.

The battle began.

[Nuada vs Wind Mage]

The silver-haired boy sprinted left across the cracked stone of the arena, eyes locked on his target—a pale elven girl floating a few inches off the ground. Her white braids whipped around her like streamers, and green winds coiled around her boots like sentient serpents.

She raised her hand, voice ringing with command. "Gale Ward!"

A swirling barrier of dense air burst into existence before her, a translucent cyclone shield. Nuada skidded to a halt just short of it. The force of the wind made his clothes flap violently and kicked up sand in all directions.

He narrowed his eyes. "Silver Arm, respond."

His artificial left arm—the Airgetlám—shifted subtly, plates sliding into offensive alignment. With a sharp thrust, he stabbed his silver fist into the gale barrier. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

The wind howled—resisted—but the divine alloy of his arm parted it like a knife through mist. The barrier shattered, its energy dispersing into scattered gusts.

The wind mage was already moving—her body twisted mid-air, and she swept her staff sideways. "Wind Crescent—Double Arc!"

Twin blades of compressed air curved toward him at opposite angles. Nuada’s sword appeared in his hand instantly, summoned not from a scabbard, but from light itself. "Lúin of Light."

The radiant sword flickered as it absorbed the incoming force. Nuada spun, blade flashing once—twice. The crescent attacks dispersed midair like sliced fog.

He kept moving—circling. She launched again—more frantic now. "Storm Pierce! Gale Bind!"

Miniature tornado lances and invisible tethers of air surged at him from every direction.

One snagged his right arm, jerking him off-balance. Another one sliced across his thigh. Blood trickled—just a nick—but it showed.

Nuada exhaled slowly. "Fine. No more playing."

He closed his eyes.

"Arcana Spirit: Amplify — Lúin Sync."

The sword pulsed, and light swirled up his body, merging with his silver arm. His pace quickened—he began to move faster than her eyes could follow.

The crowd gasped.

The wind mage’s breath caught as her winds were too slow to catch him now. She tried to hover higher, escape.

Too late.

Nuada appeared beside her like a bolt.

His voice rang out. "Arcana Burst: Lúin of Light!"

A brilliant white crescent exploded from his sword, curving in a beautiful arc that trailed light across the arena. Her staff met the blow—but shattered on contact.

The light didn’t hit her directly—but overwhelmed her presence. A dome of radiance burst out, engulfing her in harmless yet blinding energy.

She slumped mid-air and dropped gently, unconscious.

Silence.