The dungeon corridor fell into complete silence.
The students from the other academies stood frozen, staring at the spot where their teammate had vanished.
Only moments ago, he had been alive.
He had charged at Arthur with a sword in hand, convinced that the dark-haired first-year was exhausted, outnumbered, and vulnerable.
Then Arthur had cut off his hand.
Not with a grand spell.
Not with some overwhelming technique.
Just one clean swing of a katana.
And after that, Arthur had beaten him down with the sheathed blade without a shred of remorse.
Again.
And again.
And again.
There had been no hesitation in Arthur's eyes.
No pity.
No mercy.
Only cold brutality.
The boy's screams still seemed to echo through the dim corridor, even after his body had dissolved into particles of light.
Arthur stood in the middle of the bloodstained stone floor, his katana resting casually against his shoulder.
His crimson eyes swept across the remaining students.
Then he smiled.
