Reincarnated as the Only Male in an All-Girls Magic Academy!
Chapter 75: Dominating The Arena!

Chapter 75: Dominating The Arena!

Rumble! Rumble!

A girl from Block A, her robes singed from a fire weave that had detonated too close to her position, found herself backed against three opponents wielding coordinated staff techniques.

Her own weapon—an elegantly curved sword that gleamed with enchanted steel—moved in desperate arcs as she fought to maintain her footing near the platform’s edge.

"Frost Barrier!" she cried, her mind manipulating numerous threads that materialized into a wall of crystalline ice.

The makeshift defense bought her precious seconds, but her opponents were already moving to flank the obstacle.

Nearby, two girls from Block C had formed a back-to-back defensive position, their weapons weaving protective patterns as they fought against a slowly tightening circle of female attackers.

One wielded a war hammer that left small craters in the stone platform with each missed strike, while her partner’s twin swords created a web of steel that deflected incoming attacks with surgical precision.

"We can’t keep this up much longer," gasped the swordswoman, her breathing already labored from the sustained combat. "There are too many of them."

Their defensive circle was indeed shrinking with each passing moment, as more girls joined the assault.

Their coordinated elimination of prospectives had become a priority that transcended individual rivalries, creating temporary alliances that would have been unthinkable under normal circumstances.

Throughout the arena, the distinctive crackle and hiss of magical combat added another layer of complexity to the physical violence.

Prospectives who had focused their training on weaving techniques found themselves at both an advantage and a disadvantage in the chaotic environment.

A talented weaver from Block B stood at the arena’s center, her mind moving in fluid weaves that generated attack after attack with impressive speed.

"Lightning Chain!" she called, and purple energy arced between multiple targets, stunning them long enough for her allies to capitalize on their momentary paralysis.

But her magical prowess made her a priority target.

Three girls armed with crossbows had positioned themselves at different points around the arena, their bolts forcing her to constantly adjust her position and interrupt her spell-casting rhythm.

Swish! Swish!

"Focus fire on the weaver!" shouted one of the crossbow-wielders. "Don’t let her complete another major weave!"

The tactical awareness displayed by both sides was impressive, speaking to weeks of intensive training that had taught them to recognize and prioritize threats appropriately.

But for all their skill and coordination, none of them had encountered anything like what Ren represented.

By the time the participant count had dropped below three hundred, Ren had single-handedly eliminated over forty opponents!

His section of the platform had become a dead zone that other fighters actively avoided, creating an expanding circle of empty space around his position.

The spectral panther behind him had begun to pace, its ethereal form radiating menace that seemed to seep into the bones of anyone who looked directly at it.

Although the duration of his resonance had ended quite a few times already, Ren made it a point to keep on reactivating it and maintaining his resonance!

It drained stamina like crazy, but his current physique could maintain it for a bit longer. That was all he needed!

He wanted to wreak havoc!

They dared to target him? He would make them pay!

The creature’s eyes tracked potential threats with predatory intelligence, as if it were more than mere manifestation, as if it possessed a will and intent of its own.

Those prospectives brave enough or desperate enough to observe his fighting style spoke in hushed whispers about what they had witnessed.

The way he seemed to predict every attack before it was launched. The impossible speed with which he moved, as if he existed in accelerated time while his opponents moved through thick syrup.

The casual efficiency with which he eliminated multiple attackers simultaneously. It was all too scary!

"He’s not human," whispered a girl from Block A, her voice carrying the kind of superstitious dread usually reserved for ghost stories. "No one our age should be that strong."

But human or not, Ren continued his methodical elimination of threats.

Each movement was calculated for maximum efficiency, each technique designed to remove multiple opponents from the battlefield while expending minimal energy.

As the battle entered its second phase, the surviving participants began to recognize that their original strategies were insufficient.

The random elimination of weak fighters had given way to more calculated approaches, as the remaining combatants possessed the skill and experience to think beyond immediate survival.

Prospectives began forming larger alliances, temporary truces that would allow them to eliminate the most dangerous threats before turning on each other.

But even these sophisticated tactics paled before the reality of what Ren represented. He was a force that transcended their understanding of what was possible at their level of development.

The arena’s atmosphere had shifted from chaotic violence to something approaching organized warfare, as the survivors began to recognize that traditional approaches would be insufficient against the challenges they now faced.

And at the center of it all, Ren continued his deadly dance, each movement bringing him closer to the trial’s conclusion while simultaneously announcing his presence as a force that would reshape everything that followed.

Who dared to come at him now? Let’s see how long they could last before finding themselves out of the arena!

As the participant count approached one hundred, a different kind of awareness began to spread through the arena.

The surviving fighters had noticed something crucial: Ren wasn’t actively hunting them.

He eliminated those who attacked him with devastating efficiency, but he made no move toward those who kept their distance.

"He’s not coming after us," whispered a girl from Block B, her voice barely audible above the diminished sounds of combat. "Look, he’s just standing there."

It was true. Ren had positioned himself near the platform’s edge, his Umbral kinephantom panther pacing behind him like a violet warning.

His kusarigama rested in a deceptively casual grip, but his enhanced awareness tracked every movement around him with predatory precision.

The psychological effect was profound. Participants who had been frantically fighting for position suddenly found themselves reassessing their priorities.

Why risk elimination by attacking the most dangerous opponent when survival might be achieved through simply avoiding him?

It quickly spread through the surviving fighters with the speed of wildfire: don’t engage the boy with the chain weapon, and he won’t engage you.