The infirmary hummed with an overwhelming silence, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of medical monitors and hushed murmurs of concern. Mark lay on the bed, his once-vibrant body now a ghost of its former self—pale and fragile, stripped of vitality by the poison that coursed through his veins. The harsh lights above created an almost sterile tableau, contrasting starkly with the warmth of shared moments that had defined his life until now.

  Annabeth moved through the room, her pace frantic, heart pounding with the weight of anxiety and flickering hope. The walls were lined with stark medical equipment—monitors displaying numbers that felt like judgment rather than assurance—and the sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air. Yet beneath this sterile exterior, the atmosphere bristled with personal urgency, each moment thick with the fear of impending loss. Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched her pendant, the weight a reminder of her connection to Mark and the bond they shared. Her gaze darted between Mark's still form and the door, her nerves frayed as she awaited the healer’s arrival.

  “Come on, Elara, where are you?” Annabeth murmured under her breath, her eyes anxiously flitting to the clock. Each tick seemed to echo, stretching time into an agonizing eternity, amplifying her worry.

  “Your pacing is more unsettling than the poison itself,” Mark quipped lightly, trying to muster a smile despite his weakness. His words emerged like a flicker of light in an otherwise dim room, heartening Annabeth even as she fought against despair.

  Annabeth shot him an incredulous look but couldn’t bring herself to argue. The gravity of the situation held her in its grip. “You should be resting, not joking around. This is serious, Mark!”

  At last, the door creaked open, and Elara stepped inside. Her healer's robe flowed around her as she entered, every movement teeming with a calm authority that stood in stark contrast to Annabeth's jittery energy. The healer's eyes narrowed at once, assessing Mark’s condition with an intensity that sent a shiver down Annabeth’s spine.

  “Elara!” Annabeth rushed to her, a lilt of desperation coloring her voice. “Thank goodness you’re here. Mark has been poisoned. It’s wreaking havoc on his mana and his body. We need your help—now!”

  With measured calmness, Elara edged closer to Mark. “I understand. I will act swiftly to stabilize him and detoxify the poison. Please, step back.” The way she held herself radiated confidence, a reassuring contrast to the swirling anxiety in Annabeth's heart.

  Annabeth's hands trembled as she retreated, her breath shallow. She watched intently while Elara positioned herself at Mark’s side, the healer’s hands glowing with a gentle, green light—a beacon of hope in the shadow of despair. As she began to chant softly, the rhythmic incantations filled the room, creating an almost musical undertone that soothed Annabeth's fraying nerves. She imagined this melody weaving around Mark, encasing him in safety.

  “Mark, I’m going to put you to sleep temporarily,” Elara murmured, her voice like a balm. “This will allow me to work more effectively.”

  Mark's eyes fluttered open momentarily, capturing Annabeth's gaze with a look of trust, vulnerability evident in their depth. He attempted to speak, but the poison had dulled his words to a mere whisper. A mixture of fear and love flooded through Annabeth; she wanted to tell him it would be okay, to reassure him, but all she managed was a small nod as he let his eyelids grow heavy, drifting into a deep, peaceful slumber cradled by Elara’s magic.

  Holding her breath, Annabeth remained vigilant as Elara began her intricate work. The healer’s movements were deliberate, her magic forming a protective cocoon against the insidious poison that threatened to consume Mark. The monitors beeped steadily, a stark reminder of the precarious balance between life and death.

  “How long will this take?” Annabeth whispered, horror and hope mingling in her tone. Her eyes glued to Mark’s face, searching desperately for any hint of improvement. She felt sheer terror rise in her chest at the thought of losing him.

  Elara’s gaze remained focused, but a flicker of reassurance shone from her eyes. “It will take time. The poison has wrought significant damage, but I have slowed its progression. I need to monitor him closely and perform purification rituals to ensure it is fully purged.”

  Annabeth clasped her hands tightly, her knuckles pale from the pressure. “I just hope he’ll be okay. He has endured so much. If his mana is completely drained, it might jeopardize his chances of awakening a strong profession." The very thought sent waves of fear crashing down upon her, and she nearly bit her lip until it bled.

  Understanding resonated in Elara’s expression. “I get how tough this is for you. When I first awakened as a Doctor, I worried about my worth in combat situations. My abilities felt like a disadvantage at times. Over time, I realized we all have unique strengths, and even the most unexpected can lead to profound impacts.” Her voice was steady, calming like spring rain, and Annabeth found herself clinging to every word.

  A softness graced Annabeth’s features as Elara’s words seeped in. “It’s just hard seeing him like this, so diminished. He’s always been the strongest person I know. I have faith he’ll fight through this, but that doesn’t ease my heart.” Tears threatened to spill, but she blinked them back, focusing instead on the glowing magic surrounding Mark.

  The door swung open again, and Reyna stepped in, her face painted with concern. Zeroing in on Mark’s condition, she approached, urgency written all over her. “How’s he doing?”

  Annabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Elara cut in, her expression serious yet hopeful. “He’s stable for now. I’ve managed to slow the poison and initiate its removal, but he’ll need plenty of rest. His body must continue this fight on its own.”

  Relief washed over Reyna’s features, her rigid posture softening. “Good. Mark’s one of the most stubborn people I know. If anyone can weather this storm, it’s him.” She crossed her arms, a protective gesture that felt natural whenever Mark was concerned.

  A small, grateful smile broke through Annabeth’s worry. “True, he’s tenacious. Even sick, he refuses to back down.” The memory of Mark insisting on training despite his condition flashed through her mind.

  Elara chuckled softly, warmth infiltrating her voice. “That determination can be the key to overcoming challenges. I’ve seen it often—those who seem weakest often possess a surprising strength.” She focused intently on Mark, the glow of her magic intensifying as she guided it into his body.

  Reyna nodded, a grin tugging at her lips. “Remember that time he insisted on finishing a training session despite running a fever? He thought he could just will the illness away.” Her fond chuckle echoed through the tense atmosphere, momentarily lifting the air with lightness.

  Annabeth laughed, the sound a blend of relief and nostalgia. “Yes! He nearly collapsed from exhaustion. But that stubbornness is part of what makes him remarkable.” Her heart swelled with affection as she spoke; she thought about how lucky she was to know someone as passionate and resilient as Mark.

  As Elara continued her healing work, the conversation flowed, a welcome distraction stitching the fabric of hope into the atmosphere. With anecdotes and shared laughter, Annabeth and Reyna filled the space with warmth, momentarily repelling the shadows of dread. Yet, the worry lingered; it was an uninvited guest haunting the corners of their minds, unyielding.

  * * *

  In the training room, two elderly men adorned in regal robes sat in contemplative silence, engrossed in what they had just witnessed through a one-way viewing window. Their faces reflected an engaging mix of respect and analytical scrutiny, much like that of scholars admiring a rare text.

  One man, silver-haired and sharp-eyed, broke the silence. “He performed admirably against an awakened opponent. Even with Silvercloud restrained, Mark's skill and determination shone through.” His voice held a tone of approval, as if he were rehearsing the praises he would share in upcoming discussions.

  His companion, slightly younger but equally burdened by wisdom, nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed, he showed tremendous promise. Yet, we must not forget Mark’s father—a once-in-a-lifetime genius. His legacy will benefit the empire for decades to come.” The gravity of that statement lay heavily between them, both men aware of the legacy they discussed.

  The first man stroked his chin, eyes glued to the window. “True, yet we must not underestimate Mark’s potential. He may well eclipse his father’s legacy. His performance today hints at a rare talent, one that could reshape our understanding of mana in combat.” Excitement tinged his voice, as if envisioning the future.

  The second man raised an eyebrow, skepticism lacing his voice. “While his potential is undeniable, legacy is forged through experience, skill, and sacrifice. Mark’s journey is in its infancy. We should be cautious in our judgments.” He leaned back, his solemn demeanor underscoring his warning.

  A sigh escaped the first man, conceding the point. “You’re right; it’s premature to make direct comparisons. Still, his performance is encouraging. It will be fascinating to observe how he develops.” Their attention returned to Mark in the infirmary, invested in the unfolding story of a potential hero.

  * * *

  Back in the infirmary, hours dragged by, punctuated by the steady rhythm of Mark’s breathing. Annabeth, Reyna, and Elara remained vigilant, their conversations a blend of shared strength and whispered hopes for Mark’s recovery. The monitors beeped steadily, each sound eerily reinforcing the resolve that they would not leave his side.

  As night surrendered to dawn, the soft glow of the infirmary lights illuminated the room, a gentle reminder of resilience and the promise of a new day. Annabeth and Reyna exchanged gentle smiles, their bond strengthened in the lingering shadows of uncertainty. They took turns resting lightly against each other, the quiet hum of companionship a comfort as they held vigil for their friend.

  Elara, having completed her initial treatment, remained vigilant at Mark’s side, monitoring his progress as if he were a delicate ember needing nurturing. Her presence offered assurance, a calm anchor amid the storm of worry surrounding them. With every soft pulse from the monitors, her hope bloomed a little brighter.

  Breaking the stillness, Reyna nudged forth a wry smile. “Mark’s never been one for half-measures. His relentless pursuit of excellence is both frustrating and impressive.”

  “Absolutely,” Annabeth chuckled softly, her heart warming at the thought of him. “It's that driving force within him—his greatest strength and sometimes his downfall. Yet, it's precisely what makes him extraordinary.” She felt an undeniable pride swell in her chest, a mixture of admiration and love for her friend.

  Elara nodded in agreement. “Such determination can lead to remarkable achievements. As long as he has support and a touch of luck, he’ll navigate through this.” She cast a glance at the monitors, aware that every passing moment counted.

  With each passing hour, the weight in the infirmary began to lighten, hope glimmering steadier as Mark’s condition improved. As the shadows began to wane, Elara bid her farewells, checking Mark one last time to ensure the poison was purged. Both girls expressed heartfelt gratitude for her efforts, and she returned their thanks with a soft smile before exiting the room, leaving the two friends alone in the sanctuary of friendship.

  Soon, the tranquility of the room enveloped Annabeth and Reyna, sleep claiming them as exhaustion took hold after the emotional turmoil of the night. Annabeth dreamt of Mark, her heart racing as they fought side by side, mana swirling around them like a protective aura.

  Not long after, a figure slipped quietly through the door, casting a glance around before grabbing two wool blankets from a nearby table and draping them over the sleeping friends. A gentle smile graced his features as he watched their peaceful expressions, recalling the countless times Mark had been the source of their strength.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “How long are you just going to watch me?” Mark’s voice broke the silence,

  “Don’t mind me; simply checking in. I’m sure Annabeth would love to hear about your caring nature, staying up to make sure they are safe ” Newt chuckled lightly, his expression one of mischief.

  “That wouldn’t change a thing,” Mark retorted, slowly leaning back against his pillows. “

  “She has eyes only for you," Newt retorted, teasingly. It felt good to share this banter, to lift the weight off his chest, even as he battled the residue of the poison still coursing through him.

  “I don’t foresee that changing anytime soon. How are you feeling, anyway?” Newt asked, concern edging his tone as he stepped closer.

  “Better than a few hours ago,” Mark replied, moving cautiously as he shifted in the bed. “I knew they wouldn’t allow lethal poisons in sparring. Still, I didn’t expect one this potent—it nearly drained me of all my mana.” He grimaced, recalling how he had fought to conserve energy, every ounce of mana critical in his struggle.

  “Regardless, we can both agree on one thing,” Newt said, an eyebrow raised, his playful demeanor easing the atmosphere.

  Mark looked at him expectantly. “What’s that?”

  “I was fantastic! I’ve just rewatched the fight—it was epic!” Newt’s eyes gleamed with pride, and Mark couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

  Mark burst out laughing, their camaraderie wrapping around him like a warm embrace. “You were incredible! Everyone was captivated by your skill. Your mana projection? Flawless. And your defensive moves? Executed as if you anticipated every attack. Pure brilliance!”

  Mark paused, locking eyes with Newt, who wore a teasing grin. “It finally clicked, right?” he said, his palm slapping his forehead in realization.

  “Neewwwttt!” Mark playfully protested, finally understanding what Newt had done.

  “Oh, please,” Newt teased. “I acted out of love! A loveless man like you wouldn’t understand.” His laughter filled the room, a light antidote to Mark's lingering vulnerability.

  The room filled with a momentary silence before they erupted into laughter again, the sound echoing off the sterile walls. Newt stood up stiffly, a playful wince crossing his features as the laughter cleared the tension.

  “Get some rest, Mark. She’ll need you tomorrow to cheer her on.” Newt clapped a comforting hand on Mark's shoulder before stepping back, a gesture of solidarity and friendship.

  Mark watched Newt stroll out before sinking back into his pillow, drifting towards sleep as he gazed at the ceiling. It felt surreal to be awake, the hum of life around him grounding him in the moment.

  “She needs both of us,” he murmured, surrendering to the embrace of dreams.

  As dawn broke, Mark mused to himself, glancing at the clock: 5:40 AM. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, fatigue falling away like a wisp of smoke. A deep breath revealed substantial mana reserves—over half, but still shy of full capacity.

  His eyes closed, focusing inwardly. Awakening as a professional offered a glimpse into a world of insight—access to skills, strength, speed, health points, and mana points—a gift that came with experience.

  After a quick shower, he donned a crisp white sweatshirt and matching joggers, intent on being more of a supporter today, just as Newt suggested.

  “Maybe I should craft a flag with Annabeth’s face on it and get Newt to wave it around,” he chuckled to himself as he headed to the door, colliding with a startled nurse in the hallway. This sudden collision reminded him of how blithely unaware he could be, lost in the whims of his mind.

  “Good morning, Mr. Mark! You look much better,” she exclaimed, her bright smile reinforcing his sense of recovery.

  “Good morning, Stacey. That I do! Thank you for all the care. Is the doctor available? I’d like to be discharged, please.” His words spilled with eagerness, the anticipation of freedom fueling his determination.

  “If you wait just down the hall for a moment, I’ll check on the doctor’s availability,” she smiled, relief evident on her features as she witnessed his improved spirit.

  “Thank you,” he returned with appreciation, settling in the waiting area. His heart raced with an eagerness to reunite with his friends outside the sterile confines.

  Unbeknownst to him, Stacey released the breath she had been holding. Glancing back at him, she noted the impressive mana levels he possessed—five times what she had on her best day. Despite his earlier affliction, he radiated strength, even if he hadn’t fully recovered.

  Mark closed his eyes, practicing meditation while he waited, absorbed in his focus until a voice pulled him from his thoughts.

  “Meditation’s effective for steadying the mind,” came a soft voice, welcoming and familiar.

  Mark nodded, glancing up at the doctor who approached. “Doctor.”

  “Let me quickly examine you. Then you’ll be free to go.”

  With deep purple irises, the doctor studied Mark intently for a few minutes before allowing his gaze to soften. “You’re cleared. Avoid using mana until you’re back to full capacity.”

  “Noted, thank you,” Mark replied, the thrill of freedom igniting within him as he approached the elevator. The doors opened to reveal Annabeth and Reyna—freshly dressed and vibrant, excitement written across their faces.

  “So that’s where you both disappeared to,” Mark mused, a smile breaking through, wide and genuine.

  “Mark!” Annabeth nearly launched herself at him, her joy contagious and enveloping him like a warm embrace.

  “If this is the reception I get, I might have to reconsider my stance on hospitals,” he whispered playfully in her ear before setting her down. The connection felt electric, and he savored the moment.

  “I was genuinely worried. I knew you’d be fine, but still,” she confessed, relief washing over her as she placed her hand on his arm, grounding him.

  “I know, and I’m sorry for worrying you,” he replied, his voice steadying. He then glanced at Reyna, still lingering in the elevator doorway.

  “You look well,” he remarked, extending a warm smile.

  “Thanks for checking in on me,” Reyna grinned, relief palpable in her expression as if a great weight had been lifted.

  “Let’s head out. Newt is waiting for us downstairs. He just got discharged, too.” The thought of camaraderie spurred him forward, eager to rejoin the world outside the hospital.

  “Okay, let’s go!” Mark replied as he took Annabeth’s hand, entwining their fingers as they moved towards the elevator side by side—their shared strength reinforcing the bonds that united them.

  As they strolled down the sterile

  corridors, sunlight began to filter through the windows, illuminating their path ahead. Rather than viewing hospitalization as a setback, Mark felt it was a reality check he needed; he was not number one just yet, far from it.

  “Finally, the great four have assembled! A round of applause, everyone!” Mark facepalmed as Newt began to clap loudly, ignored by the hospital staff bustling around.

  “Newt, this is a medical center,” Reyna whispered sharply with a slight glare.

  “Annnnd? It’s not every day all four of us are together like this, since someone decided to take different electives… that's you, Reyna. Just so we’re clear, you broke the group.” Mark quickly walked over to Newt, putting his friend in a light headlock while dragging him toward the exit.

  “You know that’s a sore subject for her. You don’t need to make her feel bad about it,” Mark chastised, letting go of Newt’s neck while lightly tapping him on the head.

  “Oh, come on, what’s a little light jabbing amongst friends? After the day we had yesterday, the mood could do with a little lifting.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Mark muttered, still not happy about Newt’s remark.

  He respected Reyna for taking a bold step in choosing her path. As friends, they should support each other’s decisions. Mark glanced behind, noticing Annabeth and Reyna deep in conversation. He couldn’t hear them, though he had long ago mastered lip-reading—he made it a point not to use such skills on friends. Waving at them, he called out, “Annabeth, Reyna, come on! We need to get to the arena for good seats.”

  Both girls soon rejoined them, and the group made their way to the cafeteria, already open for a quick bite. After eating, they headed toward the training arena, securing their preferred seats. The arena looked eerily pristine, as if the massive battles fought the day before had never happened—such was the prowess of mana wielded by powerful professionals.

  The group chatted for an hour, with Newt and Annabeth discussing battle strategies she might use in her upcoming fight. Newt’s mana pool and fighting style closely resembled Annabeth’s, except for her use of *Sanctum*, a unique ability only she possessed.

  Hours passed quickly as the arena filled with excited spectators. Several classmates came over to check on Mark and Newt, with Arran and Newt even sharing a fist bump. The mood was lively, anticipation for the match doubling from the previous day. Suddenly, the bell chimed loudly, bringing about an immediate silence.

  **Collins Griffith vs. Annabeth**

  **Battle Condition: No Restrictions**

  Mark rose to his feet swiftly, looking over to Annabeth and offering her his hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her firmly to her feet.

  Mark leaned in close, whispering in her ear Annabeth smiled and replied excitedly, “A deal’s a deal!” before hurrying down the stairs toward the arena.

  “Thanks for making this fight even more difficult,” Griffith muttered with a smirk.

  “You’re welcome, Griffith,” Mark shot back with a grin and a playful salute, earning a scoff from Griffith as his friends cheered him on.

  ---

  The crowd buzzed with anticipation as Annabeth and Griffith stood at opposite ends of the arena, eyes locked. The air between them crackled with energy, thick with the weight of the battle about to unfold. The moment the bell rang, signaling the start, Griffith wasted no time. He dashed forward with blinding speed, his superior physical ability apparent as he closed the distance with a single leap.

  Annabeth knew his tactics well—he wanted the fight up close, where his strength would give him the upper hand. But she had no intention of allowing that. With a sharp inhale, she stretched out her hand, her mana flaring to life as ethereal blue energy condensed into a bow at her fingertips.

  She conjured her first mana arrow with lightning speed, releasing it in a burst of energy. The arrow flew straight at Griffith, aimed at slowing his advance. But Griffith was no novice. He slid to the side, dodging the projectile with ease, his feet barely touching the ground before he surged forward again, aiming to close the gap.

  “Not so fast!” Annabeth muttered, her fingers already forming another mana arrow.

  This time, she conjured three arrows at once and fired them in quick succession, their glowing trails weaving through the air like streaks of light. Griffith frowned, realizing Annabeth’s intent. She was trying to create space, forcing him to deal with the projectiles while she moved back, maintaining her distance.

  Griffith grinned, eyes glinting with determination. He raised his hand, dark purple mana swirling around his arm like a cyclone. With a sharp motion, he swatted the incoming arrows aside, his own mana projection materializing as a barrier to deflect the attacks. The arrows exploded on contact, scattering mana sparks into the air, but Griffith was unphased, pressing forward with unrelenting speed.

  Annabeth’s heart raced as she continued her retreat, focusing on maintaining the gap between them. With every step back, she fired more mana arrows, each one curving through the air with precision. But Griffith countered each shot, his mana projection forming short-lived shields to block or deflect her attacks.

  “You can’t keep running, Annabeth,” Griffith taunted as he weaved through her projectiles. “Sooner or later, I’ll close the distance.”

  Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “Who says I’m running?”

  With a sudden pivot, Annabeth stopped retreating. She planted her feet firmly on the ground and channeled her mana, concentrating the energy into a single arrow far larger than the others. Its tip glowed an ominous blue, pulsating with raw power.

  Griffith, sensing the shift in her strategy, braced himself. He could feel the weight of the mana building within her arrow. As Annabeth let it fly, the air hummed with a sharp, piercing sound, the arrow cutting through the arena with lethal intent.

  But Griffith was ready. With a quick motion, he slammed his fists together, conjuring a dome-like shield of mana around him. The arrow struck the barrier with immense force, the impact reverberating through the arena as the mana arrow exploded into a burst of energy. The crowd gasped as dust and debris scattered into the air.

  For a moment, it seemed like Griffith had been hit. But as the dust cleared, his shield held firm. He grinned from behind the barrier, his voice dripping with confidence. “Nice try. But you’ll need more than that.”

  Annabeth cursed under her breath. Griffith’s defenses were strong, and as much as she hated to admit it, that was always his strong suit, what he lacked in attack potency he made up for on defense, he was steadily closing the gap between them.

  Griffith seized the moment and charged forward again. This time, he was closer—too close. Annabeth barely managed to leap to the side, her mana bow dissipating as she dodged his incoming punch. The force of his strike sent tremors through the ground, splintering the arena floor beneath him, He had enhanced his attack with Mana.

  ‘When did he learn to do that?’ She thought Genuinely caught of Guard, by the Mana infused punch, it wasn’t something most people could do, it required precise Mana control to create results like that.

  Annabeth skidded across the ground, her feet digging into the dirt as she regained her balance. Griffith was relentless, already swinging at her again, each punch laced with mana that crackled through the air. She ducked, rolled, and jumped, evading him by inches, but the strain was evident. Griffith’s physical prowess was impressive, but alas Annabeth had been sparing with the monster for years, this wasn’t enough to rattle her..

  “Enough of this!” Annabeth hissed, frustration boiling over. She slammed her palms together, channeling mana into the earth below. The ground rumbled in response, and before Griffith could react, a jagged wall of stone erupted between them, momentarily separating the two.

  Griffith staggered back, surprised by the sudden shift in terrain. But Annabeth wasn’t done. She channeled more mana, using it to manipulate the boulders and debris around the arena, hurling them toward him with rapid precision.

  Griffith's grin faded, his expression hardening as he quickly formed a mana shield, blocking the barrage of debris. The stones exploded against his barrier, but the constant onslaught was slowing his advance.

  Annabeth seized the opportunity. She retreated further, summoning a new wave of mana arrows. This time, she wasn’t aiming to slow him down—she was aiming to wear him out. Her arrows rained down like a storm, forcing Griffith to stay on the defensive, his mana shields flickering with every impact.

  “You’re stalling, Annabeth!” Griffith growled, frustration lacing his voice. “It won’t work!”

  “We’ll see about that,” Annabeth retorted, her breath labored but her focus unbroken.

  Griffith, sensing the need to turn the tide, took a deep breath and called upon his mana reserves. His aura flared, and in one swift motion, he shattered the ground beneath him. The force of his mana sent shockwaves through the earth, splintering the arena floor and sending rocks and dirt flying into the air.

  Annabeth stumbled as the ground shifted beneath her feet, her mana arrows faltering. Griffith used the momentary distraction to launch himself into the air, crashing down toward her with terrifying speed. His fist, charged with concentrated mana, struck the ground where Annabeth had stood moments before.

  The impact created a massive crater, debris flying in all directions. But Annabeth wasn’t there. She had darted to the side at the last second, using her agility to avoid the blow. Now, breathing heavily, she knew it was time to change tactics.

  She couldn’t win in a prolonged battle at close range. It was time …….

  Drawing in a deep breath, Annabeth extended her hand, fingers splayed wide. The ground beneath her feet shimmered with energy as her mana surged. Her signature ability, *Sanctum*, activated. Her aura intensified, the air around her crackling with raw, unbridled power.

  Griffith’s eyes widened as he felt the shift in the atmosphere. He could sense Annabeth’s mana reserves doubling, then tripling, as her absorption ability kicked in. He gritted his teeth, knowing this was her ace in the hole.

  “Time to end this,” Annabeth whispered.

  With a wave of her hand, hundreds of mana bullets materialized in the air, hovering around her like a deadly swarm of bees. Each bullet glowed with intense blue energy, vibrating with lethal intent. Griffith knew he couldn’t let her unleash them. He raised his arms, channeling mana into his strongest defensive technique—a dome-shaped barrier that wrapped around him, constantly reinforced by his own mana acting as a battery.

  Annabeth didn’t hesitate. With a mental command, the mana bullets flew toward Griffith, their speed blinding, their trajectory erratic. They pelted his shield relentlessly, each impact sending waves of energy rippling across the barrier.

  Griffith groaned, pouring more mana into his defense. The dome flickered but held firm, though cracks were beginning to form along its surface. The sheer volume of Annabeth’s attack was overwhelming, and Griffith knew he couldn’t hold out forever.

  But Annabeth wasn’t finished. She stretched out both hands, drawing in even more mana from the environment. Her *Sanctum* ability granted her unparalleled control over energy, and with a final burst of power, she unleashed the remaining mana bullets in one concentrated blast.

  The force of the attack was incredible. The air itself seemed to vibrate as hundreds of mana projectiles struck Griffith’s barrier in unison. The dome buckled, cracks spider-webbing across its surface. Griffith roared, his arms shaking as he poured every last drop of his mana into maintaining the shield, the sheer heat generated, scorched the ground around him, even his hands and were not spared

  For a heartbeat, it seemed like he might succeed. But then, with a deafening crack, the barrier shattered. Mana exploded outward, and Griffith was thrown back, skidding across the arena floor. He gasped for breath, his body drained, his mana reserves nearly depleted.

  Annabeth, panting heavily, stood tall. The arena was silent, the ground around them scarred by the battle. The trees and boulders they had used for cover were shattered, and the energy from their fight still lingered in the air like static.

  Griffith groaned as he struggled to his feet, his legs trembling. He looked at Annabeth, a mixture of respect and frustration in his eyes. “I’ll give you this… you’re tougher than I thought.”

  Annabeth smiled, though exhaustion was clear on her face. “Thanks. You didn’t make it easy.”

  With a final nod, Griffith conceded. “This round is yours, Annabeth.”

  The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices filling the air as the match came to its dramatic conclusion, it was a fantastic display of technique and skill.

  Annabeth looked up to were she Knew Mark was and yelled out.” I did it with 7 minutes to spare, now you have to tell me.” She yelled out, before making her way out of the arena, once again proving why she was considered a genius blessed by Mana