In the arena, the sounds of fierce battle gradually died down.

Most of the surviving Mechanical Bodies had realized that something was very wrong with the situation in the arena.

Outside the arena, the audience was stunned by the Spider Slayer’s brilliant design.

The pillar of fire from the tracked Mechanical Body’s self-detonation, followed by the mantis-like Mechanical Body being ambushed and slain by a ghostly figure descending from the sky... Everyone on the viewing platforms had seen the entire sequence with perfect clarity.

"Is... is that really a Mechanical Body made by a new Advanced Apprentice? How in the world did he tune a generic Control Core to perform like that? It’s not logical."

One Advanced Apprentice was completely dumbfounded, muttering to himself.

Of the dozen or so remaining Mechanical Bodies, most of those that were aware of the Spider Slayer’s existence had ceased all activity.

They gave up on racking up points. They gave up on searching for opponents. They strictly executed the high-priority directive in their programming: when encountering an insurmountable opponent, self-preservation becomes the primary mission!

For a time, they all began to employ hide-and-seek tactics.

Behind the towering husks of buildings, in the depths of rubble-filled craters, even at the entrances to foul-smelling sewers—all these places became their treasured hiding spots.

Ranged-type Mechanical Bodies would be instantly killed up close after it teleported; melee-types would be picked off from a distance whenever it found an opening.

The entire ruined city underwent a drastic change in style, transforming from a chaotic battlefield into a massive game of hide-and-seek.

And the lone hunter once again silently climbed to the high ground, looking down upon its hunting grounds.

In the shadows of a tall building, the Spider Slayer remained motionless, as if it had merged with the darkness.

Shadow Travel was on cooldown, but its Control Core was operating at high speed, pushing its intelligence to the absolute limit.

The tactical module, built with the help of DSeek, was integrating real-time information from the entire battlefield:

The last known positions of all surviving Mechanical Bodies, building locations, usable paths...

An invisible net woven from data had already been cast over the entire arena.

The three-minute cooldown ended.

The killer in the shadows moved once more.

Its target was a Mechanical Body codenamed "Warhammer."

This Mechanical Body specialized in defense and strength. It was currently hiding behind a thick, load-bearing wall, curled into a ball, trying to rely on its heavy armor to last until the end of the match.

The Spider Slayer did not choose to engage in close combat.

It silently circled around to the side of another building, its head-mounted sniper module extending.

PFFT.

A beam of ethereal blue light shot out, but its target wasn’t "Warhammer" itself. Instead, it struck the weak point on the joint of a massive crossbeam above it—a beam already eroded by battle and covered in cracks.

The joint snapped on impact, and the multi-ton crossbeam came crashing down.

"Warhammer’s" creator could only watch helplessly as their Mechanical Body on the screen was buried under a cloud of dust and rubble.

It wasn’t destroyed, but it was pinned and unable to move, its combat capabilities neutralized.

The crowd on the viewing platforms hadn’t even had time to gasp in amazement.

They just saw the black spider emerge from the shadows, find an angle, and fire at the immobilized target—once, twice... continuously shooting the same spot.

It was the most cold-blooded execution, a finishing blow delivered to a target that had lost all ability to resist.

On the Magic Light Curtain, "Warhammer’s" screen finally turned gray.

[Allen Wesren: 76 points → 96 points]

On the scoreboard, Allen’s name was already far in the lead, widening the gap with second place.

But the hunt was still on.

The Spider Slayer became a grim reaper, using the architecture, the light and shadows, the smoke from explosions, and every single use of Shadow Travel as soon as it came off cooldown.

Sometimes it would pick off targets from the top of a high-rise; other times it would lay an ambush in a narrow alley. Every appearance meant the elimination of another Mechanical Body.

On the scoreboard, Allen’s points climbed with a despair-inducing, steady rhythm, finally settling on a number that everyone could only gaze up at in awe.

[Allen Wesren — "Spider Slayer": 196 points]

"Time’s up!"

"Time’s up—!"

As the Alchemy Puppet host’s excited voice echoed through the venue, only five of the thirty-seven split screens on the Magic Light Curtain remained lit.

Two of them belonged to the Mechanical Bodies that had immediately hidden in the most concealed corners the moment they sensed trouble, surviving by remaining completely motionless, relying on their thick armor or superior stealth coating.

Another two were individuals that the Spider Slayer had judged to be too risky to engage.

And the one ranked highest on the scoreboard was none other than Allen’s Spider Slayer!

It stood undamaged atop the ruins, its black paint reflecting a cold light in the afterglow of the setting sun.

The final tally showed it had destroyed a total of nine competing Mechanical Bodies.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Let us congratulate the champion of this year’s Black Tower New Star Cup—Allen Wesren! And his Mechanical Body, the Spider Slayer!"

The host’s voice carried throughout the venue, and the viewing stands immediately erupted in waves of applause and cheers.

The members of the mutual aid groups were so excited they were shouting themselves hoarse.

In the professors’ section, several of the instructors exchanged a few brief words before getting up and leaving one by one.

They had already seen what they came to see.

Before leaving, Mercer Iron Star’s gaze lingered for a moment on an inconspicuous corner of the contestants’ section.

A deep thought echoed directly in the minds of Victor and Allen. It was a message from Master Mercer.

"Tomorrow morning, after your classes, come to my office."

The floating viewing platforms, carrying the still-excited spectators, slowly flew back to the academy square.

The crowd began to disperse, excitedly discussing the match they had just witnessed.

Victor Iron Flame walked down from the viewing platform alone.

A few of his friends wanted to come over and console him, but his expressionless face scared them away.

He ignored everyone else and walked directly toward the Black Tower.

His Molten Champion was second to none in terms of performance, yet it had been eliminated midway through the match, not even making the top ten.

This wasn’t a failure of performance, but a complete and utter tactical defeat.

As he passed by the giant Magic Light Curtain, he paused for a moment.

At the top of the curtain, the name "Allen Wesren" and that glaring score of 196 points were still displayed.

’Next time... I absolutely will not lose again!’

He clenched his fists and continued walking forward.

Allen, meanwhile, moved through the crowd. The effect of the Myriad Guise spell on his face had not yet faded, so no one noticed the champion’s true appearance.

He didn’t dispel the Witchcraft until he reached the financial office on the first floor of the Black Tower of the Forge.

Behind the counter, Barton was, for once, not sleeping. He was polishing his personal terminal.

Allen placed his identification card on the counter.

Barton raised his eyelids, glanced at Allen, then looked down at the competition results and prize distribution notice that had popped up on his terminal.

He was silent for a moment before pulling a potion box from under the counter and pushing it forward.

"Three vials of Spiritual Enhancement Potion. They’re yours."

Allen reached for them.

"Allen, kid," Barton spoke up.

Allen paused and looked at him.

"Your knack for cooking the books is even more insidious than that spider of yours."

Barton cracked a smile, one that was hard to read as either mockery or admiration.

He paused, as if lost in a memory, and then added, "But, no matter the era, rules are only ever meant to bind the honest."

"Well done."

His tone was complex, a mixture of praise and lament. "If I had known how to be that flexible back in my day, I wouldn’t have ended up in this situation."

Allen picked up the metal box, gave Barton a slight nod of acknowledgment, and turned to leave.

After leaving the financial office, Allen opened the box. Inside were three crystal test tubes filled with a deep blue liquid. They refracted the light from the magical lamps in the hallway, casting a mesmerizing, ethereal blue glow.