Magus Supremacy - Chapter 273

Chapter 273: A Crazy lover!
Chapter 273

“Greg Truedeam has passed this assessment as he has landed a blow in one minute, twenty seconds,” Eric announced, his voice firm and resolute.

With a confident smirk, Greg leapt from the elevated platform and landed gracefully back in his spot among the students, pride glowing in his eyes.

“I’m glad you didn’t disappoint me,” Grey’s calm voice whispered into Greg’s ear like a phantom breeze.

Greg’s smirk widened.

‘I’m not done yet. The tournament—whatever the academy has planned—I’ll win it all.’ Determination surged through him as the next name was about to be called.

Eric raised a hand, motioning for Vanica to approach. She swiftly healed his injuries with practiced ease, then silently returned to her previous position.

“The next participant is Lyra!” Eric declared.

A hush fell over the room.

The voluptuous young woman walked forward with feline grace, each step a display of power and poise.

Her chest bounced subtly with each motion, drawing the lingering gazes of many male students—everyone except Grey.

‘Finally, my turn… Watch me, my love. Watch how I’ll repay the pain you endured.’ Lyra’s heart pounded with purpose as she took her place opposite Eric.

“You ready?” Eric asked, adjusting his stance slightly.

“Always,” Lyra replied coolly. A sudden swirl of wind encircled her, tugging at her clothes and hair. Eric’s brow arched slightly in intrigue.

‘Wind magic… interesting.’

Without warning, a sharp gust of wind burst out from Lyra, sweeping across the room like a wild tempest. Gasps rang out as spectators were buffeted by the force.

From the whirlwind, a massive dragon of pure wind materialized behind her—its translucent form breathing ethereal breezes with each motion.

Surrounding Lyra, fifty shimmering wind swords formed in an elegant halo, each blade angled at Eric like the judgment of a goddess.

“Wait… isn’t Lyra going too far?” Charlotte asked, her brows creased with worry.

“She really is. Fifty swords? That’s her current limit unless she breaks through…” Selene’s eyes widened, the realization dawning. “Which means—”

“She’s going all out,” Dante finished grimly.

“But why? This is just supposed to be a sparring match,” Charlotte protested.

Selene’s mind flashed back to her earlier exchange with Lyra.

{“Are you planning on how you want to murder someone?” Selene had teased, half-joking.

“Something like that,” Lyra had muttered under her breath. Unaware Selene had caught it.}

“Oh no…” Selene murmured, her stomach twisting. ‘She wasn’t kidding…’

Eric smiled thinly, the air around him beginning to pulse. “I see you’re serious. Good. Let’s begin.”

With a snap of his fingers, a hundred wind spears shot out from behind him, shrieking toward Lyra.

“Draco!” she cried.

The wind dragon roared and unleashed a colossal gust with a mighty flap of its wings. The blast tore through the air, shattering the incoming spears like fragile glass.

Lyra followed with a sharp snap—her fifty wind swords launched forward in unison, slicing toward Eric with blinding speed.

“Pathetic. Just fifty?” Eric scoffed, lifting his hand.

A fierce vortex exploded into existence around him, spinning with such violence that it tore grooves into the ground beneath him. The vortex devoured the swords effortlessly, reducing them to nothing.

Then, with a final, devastating spin, the vortex surged forward, tearing through the arena, ripping apart tiles and shaking the chamber’s foundation.

Lyra leapt skyward, landing on her dragon’s back as it soared upward just in time. The vortex collided with the wall behind her, blasting a gaping hole through stone. Dust and rubble rained down.

“Take this!” Lyra shouted.

With another forceful flap of Draco’s wings, over a hundred wind swords erupted from the sky, descending like a storm of gleaming fangs.

Eric stood his ground, utterly unshaken. A smirk tugged at his lips.

With a casual wave, the swords disintegrated mid-air before reaching him.

“You in the air is annoying,” he muttered, pointing a single finger at the airborne dragon. “So get down here.”

A concentrated burst of wind shot forth like a cannonball. It smashed into the dragon’s head with brutal force, tearing it asunder. The ethereal beast dissipated, and Lyra plummeted toward the ground.

“Wind blades,” Eric said, releasing a dozen razor-sharp projectiles.

Lyra twisted mid-air, her form flipping elegantly as she narrowly dodged the barrage. The blades slammed into the wall behind her in explosive succession.

She landed on one knee, the impact jarring. Her head snapped up, hair flowing dramatically behind her.

“Watching her move like that… that jiggle… it makes something beneath me harden,” Arthur said with a gulp, eyes gleaming.

“You’re a goddamn pervert,” Raze growled, slapping the back of his head.

“She’s your senior, man,” Gordon added in disgust.

“What does rank have to do with anything?” Arthur sneered. “What matters is whether she’ll moan my name tonight.”

“You’re vile,” Scarlet hissed, turning away in revulsion.

Back in the arena, Lyra shot forward like a missile, her form propelled by fierce gusts. Eric remained unmoved.

From her palms, blades of wind surged toward him, but Eric nimbly dodged. Lyra followed through—her entire body slammed into him like a crashing wave, sending him tumbling.

Above them, a massive wind sword formed in the air and plummeted toward Eric like divine punishment.

He thrust both hands upward, pushing a massive gust to counter it. The ground beneath his feet cracked violently from the strain. His teeth grit as he resisted the pressure—just as Lyra appeared before him again.

‘I could kill you… but I won’t. Not yet. This will do for now.’

With a sudden swipe, Lyra’s conjured wind spear tore into Eric’s cheek, opening a deep, bloody gash.

‘That’s for touching my love.’

“What the hell?!” Eric roared, staggering back as blood ran freely down his face. The wind sword evaporated behind him.

“I said just a trickle of blood—what the hell is this?!”

“I’m sorry, sir… I got a little carried away,” Lyra said sweetly, head bowed. But her lips curled into a cruel smile.

Watching from the sidelines, Selene shivered.

‘She’s losing it… Lyra’s going crazy.’

“Whatever! Just get off the platform. You pass,” Eric snapped, signaling for Vanica with a sharp motion.

As the healer rushed over to mend him, Lyra descended from the platform like a queen leaving the battlefield.

‘That was just a warning. Touch him again… and the next hole will be in your skull.’

A smirk danced on her lips as she walked away—casual, but triumphant.

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{A/N}