Senyum Aurelian memudar menjadi ekspresi yang lebih tajam—kurang jenaka, lebih waspada. "Kali ini mereka tidak main-main."<br><br>Selphine mengangguk pelan, matanya menyipit saat mengamati proyeksi yang telah diperbarui. "Tidak. Ini bukan lagi drama. Ini perang yang dirancang."<br><br>Medan ilusi itu memperbesar gambar dengan fokus yang hampir seperti pemangsa. Tempat yang tadinya merupakan bioma yang tertata rapi kini saling bercampur aduk—danau asam mengalir ke jalur hutan yang runtuh, puncak beku hancur menjadi celah-celah magma. Batas-batas antar zona ujian melengkung seperti kaca yang mendapat tekanan berat, pecahan langit itu sendiri hancur dan berjatuhan bak meteor berapi.<br><br>Dan kemudian—<br><br>Para monster datang.<br><br>Bukan sebagai pertempuran kecil yang tersebar.<br><br>Melainkan sebagai gelombang.<br><br>Makhluk-makhluk tumpah ruah dari tepi zona konvergensi—binatang buas cacat yang tercipta dari mana dan taring, gabungan elemen sihir yang bergerak dengan tujuan pasti. Sebagian merayap, yang lain terbang. Beberapa berkedip masuk dan keluar dari eksistensi sepenuhnya, berpendar seperti hantu yang disinari lampu strobo. Jumlahnya yang begitu masif sangat mencengangkan.<br><br>Para kandidat di seluruh medan ujian membubarkan formasi—tidak ada lagi aksi pamer, tidak ada lagi duel remeh. Ini soal bertahan hidup. Perisai pertahanan menyala. Jeritan bergema. Mantra menerangi pemandangan bagai kembang api festival, tetapi ekspresi mereka yang merapalkannya sama sekali tidak menunjukkan perayaan.<br><br>Bibir Selphine terkatup menjadi garis tipis. "Mereka sedang digiring."<br><br>"Dijebak," gerutu Aurelian, condong ke depan dengan kedua sikunya bertumpu di atas meja sekarang. "Monster di belakang mereka, ruang yang menyempit di depan. Jika mereka tidak bergerak, mereka terjepit. Jika bergerak, mereka bisa berlari langsung ke zona maut lainnya."<br><br>"Dan konvergensi itu," kata Selphine sambil menunjuk cincin batas yang semakin membesar pada peta ilusi, "semakin cepat."<br><br>Mata Selphine menyipit saat sekumpulan glif lain berdenyut di layar ilusi—nama-nama menghilang satu per satu, diikuti oleh stempel tegas yang sama:<br><br>[DIELIMINASI – Pelanggaran Konvergensi]<br><br>"Itu nama ketujuh dalam waktu dua menit," ujarnya pelan.<br><br>Aurelian mengembuskan napas perlahan. "Mereka gugur dengan cepat sekarang."<br><br>Sejak awal Tahap Kedua, medan konvergensi bergerak lambat—penuh perhitungan. Penyempitan ruang secara konstan yang menyingkirkan para yang tertinggal, kebanyakan dari mereka yang sudah terlalu terluka untuk melanjutkan. Kandidat yang bertarung terlalu keras di hari-hari awal—kehabisan darah dalam pertempuran monster atau kelelahan karena bentrok dengan rival—tertinggal saat medan berbalik melawan mereka. Mereka yang tidak sempat melewati batas menghilang dalam kilatan menyilaukan dari sihir evakuasi.<br><br>Dan sebagian besar berhasil.<br><br>Sampai sekarang.<br><br>Karena sekarang konvergensi itu tidak lagi stabil.<br><br>Hal itu semakin cepat.<br><br>Pada peta ilusi, tepi konvergensi berdenyut dengan jelas—tidak lagi merayap, melainkan menyapu. Kubah merah perlahan-lahan menyempit dari segala sisi, simetris dengan ruang yang dibangun, runtuh ke arah pusat medan ujian. Bukan garis datar. Kubah kompresi. Sangkar penutupan yang lambat dan tak terelakkan.<br><br>"Lihat denyut radiusnya," kata Aurelian, menunjuk ke lapisan ilusi saat riak merah memindai area tersebut. "Itu tidak seragam lagi."<br><br>"Oh, jadi mereka melakukannya seperti itu..." gumam Aurelian, matanya beralih dari satu rune ke rune berikutnya di tepi proyeksi. "Begitu kulihat, semuanya jadi masuk akal."<br><br>Selphine mengangkat sebelah alisnya. "Kompresi radius berlapis yang dipadukan dengan denyut pemicu. Mereka tidak sekadar meruntuhkan ruang—mereka mendengarkannya."<br><br>"Maksudmu konvergensi reaktif?" Aurelian condong ke depan, terlalu bersemangat. "Tentu saja. Mereka pasti menyalurkan kembali kepadatan mana ambient ke dalam pergerakan kubah. Semakin mandek energinya, semakin cepat bagian itu runtuh."<br><br>Selphine mengangguk kecil, memancarkan perpaduan antara persetujuan profesional dan rasa penasaran yang tulus. "Aku taruhan mereka menggunakan susunan umpan balik cermin yang terikat pada kelompok populasi kandidat. Ini adalah ruang hampa udara yang terkontrol."<br><br>Aurelian bersiul pelan. "Itu desain spasial tingkat tinggi. Pantesan mereka mendatangkan para Arch-Magister untuk menstabilkan jaringannya."<br><br>Hal semacam itulah yang hanya disadari oleh mage seperti mereka—betapa indahnya kekerasan itu dirancang. Setiap keruntuhan, setiap pergerakan paksa, setiap gelombang monster bukan sekadar kekacauan. Itu diciptakan. Sebuah teka-teki yang dirancang bukan sekadar menguji kekuatan atau daya tahan—melainkan respons terhadap kendali yang bergeser.<br><br>Dan kemudian—<br><br>Proyeksi itu berubah.<br><br>Udara di sekitar alun-alun ikut bergeser bersamaan dengan perubahan itu, seperti helaian napas kolektif.<br><br>Kamera bergeser ke jalur hutan yang setengah tenggelam dalam kabut dan bunga merah. Sekelompok kandidat meringkuk di dasar tebing batu yang hancur, berdarah-darah, kelelahan. Monster-monster datang bagaikan pasang air laut sekarang—binatang buas yang meneteskan air liur dengan anggota tubuh terkoyak mana dan tubuh bergerigi yang terjahit dari sisa-sisa elemen.<br><br>Dan yang menahan garis pertahanan di antara mereka—<br><br>Adalah dia.<br><br>Reynald Vale.<br><br>"Pria itu," kata Aurelian, duduk lebih tegak. "Dia masih bertahan."<br><br>Ekspresi Selphine tidak berubah, tetapi nadanya melunak. "Tentu saja dia bertahan."<br><br>Layar memperlihatkannya di tengah gerakan—busur ayunan pedangnya yang bersih dan mengarah ke bawah saat membelah makhluk yang menerjang, sebelum berputar ke belakang untuk menusuk makhluk lain. Setiap gerakan diperhitungkan dan efisien. Tidak mencolok. Tidak teatrikal.<br><br>Namun terukur.<br><br>Kuda-kuda Reynald tidak sempurna, tidak seperti demonstrasi tutor kerajaan—tetapi itu adalah jenis postur yang ditempa oleh kebutuhan, bukan latihan baris-berbaris. Setiap serangan menjaga jarak antara monster dan kandidat yang terluka di belakangnya. Matanya bergerak cepat tanpa henti—menilai, melindungi, menyesuaikan.<br><br>"Dia punya insting medan perang," kata Selphine pelan. "Itu langka pada seseorang sebutannya."<br><br>"Dan lihat gerak kakinya," tambah Aurelian, matanya melacak setiap pergeseran. "Tidak dilatih seperti kesatria istana. Tapi juga tidak ceroboh. Itu bentuk pertarungan dunia nyata."<br><br>Mereka menyaksikan saat ia menghantamkan gagang pedangnya ke rahang monster dan berputar tanpa jeda, ujung pedangnya menyeret rune pelindung cepat di udara sebelum kembali memasang posisi Siap.<br><br>"Di rumah," gumam Selphine, "kesatria keluargaku berlatih melawan golem dan duel panggung. Pria ini bahkan tidak kalah jika dibandingkan dengan mereka."<br><br>Aurelian mengangguk, suaranya pelan namun mantap. "Dia tidak sekadar bertarung dengan baik. Dia bertarung dengan cerdas. Setiap gerakan, setiap sudut—dia menghemat energi, melindungi yang lain, beradaptasi."<br><br>Selphine memiringkan kepalanya sedikit, mengamati postur Reynald saat ia kembali menyesuaikan kuda-kudanya, memposisikan tubuhnya di antara seorang gadis yang roboh dan gelombang baru monster yang mendekat. "Tidak ada tenaga yang terbuang. Dia tahu persis seberapa besar kekuatan yang harus digunakan untuk membunuh, dan di mana harus berdiri untuk menahan hantaman demi melindungi mereka."<br><br>Di sekeliling mereka, lebih banyak suara bergabung—penonton yang tertarik pada proyeksi yang sama, dengan ekspresi terpesona oleh emosi yang bukan sekadar kagum.<br><br>Rasa hormat.<br><br>Seorang pedagang dengan sarung tangan bernoda abu bergumam, "Anak itu tidak hanya berjuang untuk menang. Dia sedang melindungi mereka."<br><br>Seorang mage paruh baya, dengan tongkat yang bertumpu di lututnya, menyipitkan mata ke arah ilusi dan berkata, "Ia bergerak seperti seseorang yang pernah kehilangan orang terkasih. Itu bukan keberanian. Itu tekad."<br><br>Seorang anak laki-laki yang duduk bersila di atas batu *cobblestones* berbisik, "Dia mirip seperti di cerita-cerita lama..."<br><br>Dari suatu tempat di kerumunan, sebuah julukan muncul—pelan awalnya, lalu ditirukan oleh yang lain.<br><br>| "The Bastion."
Bab 665: Mirellia Dane
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Aurelian's grin faded into something sharper—less mirthful, more alert. "They weren't joking this time."
Selphine nodded slowly, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the updated projection. "No. This isn't drama anymore. This is war by design."
The illusion field zoomed in with an almost predatory focus. What had once been carefully curated biomes now churned into each other—acid lakes draining into collapsing forest paths, frozen peaks crumbling into molten fissures. The borders between trial zones buckled like stressed glass, fragments of sky itself shattering and raining down as flaming meteors.
And then—
The monsters came.
Not as scattered skirmishes.
But as waves.
Creatures poured out from the edges of the convergence zones—misshapen beasts of mana and tooth, spell-fused amalgamations that moved with purpose. Some crawled, others flew. A few phased in and out of existence entirely, flickering like strobe-lit ghosts. The sheer volume was staggering.
Candidates across the trial field broke formation—no more posturing, no more petty duels. This was about survival. Defensive wards flared. Screams echoed. Spells lit the landscape like festival fireworks, but the expressions of those casting them were anything but celebratory.
Selphine's lips pressed into a thin line. "They're being herded."
"Trapped," Aurelian muttered, leaning forward with both elbows on the table now. "Monsters at their backs, collapsing space in front. If they don't move, they're pincered. If they do, they might run straight into another death zone."
"And the convergence," Selphine said, pointing to the growing boundary ring on the illusion map, "is speeding up."
Selphine's eyes narrowed as another set of glyphs pulsed across the illusion display—names flickering out, one by one, followed by the same harsh stamp:
[ELIMINATED – Convergence Violation]
"That's the seventh name in two minutes," she said quietly.
Aurelian let out a slow breath. "They're dropping fast now."
From the start of Phase Two, the convergence field had been slow—deliberate. A steady narrowing of space that eliminated stragglers, mostly those already too injured to continue. Candidates who had fought too hard in the early days—bled out in monster skirmishes or worn down by rival clashes—had been left behind when the terrain turned against them. Those who couldn't cross the threshold in time had vanished in a searing pulse of evacuation magic.
And most had managed.
Until now.
Because now the convergence was no longer steady.
It was accelerating.
On the illusion map, the convergence edge pulsed visibly—no longer inching, but sweeping. A crimson dome slowly tightening from all sides, symmetrical to the constructed space, collapsing inward toward the very center of the trial field. Not a flat line. A dome of compression. A cage of slow, inevitable closure.
"Look at the radius pulses," Aurelian said, pointing to the illusion's overlay as a ripple of red scanned across the terrain. "It's not uniform anymore."
"Oh, so they did it like that…" Aurelian muttered, eyes flicking from one rune to the next on the projection's edge. "Now that I look at it, it makes sense."
Selphine arched a brow. "Layered radius compression paired with trigger pulses. They're not just collapsing space—they're listening to it."
"You mean reactive convergence?" Aurelian leaned in, a little too eagerly. "Of course. They must be feeding ambient mana density back into the dome's movement. The more stagnant the energy, the faster it collapses that section."
Selphine gave a small nod, something between professional approval and genuine intrigue. "I'd wager they're using a mirrored feedback array tied to the candidate population clusters. It's a controlled vacuum."
Aurelian gave a low whistle. "That's high-tier spatial design. No wonder they brought in the Arch-Magisters to stabilize the lattice."
It was the kind of thing only mages like them would notice—how artful the violence had become. Every collapse, every forced movement, every monster wave wasn't just chaos. It was crafted. A puzzle designed not just to test strength or endurance—but response to shifting control.
And then—
The projection changed.
The air around the plaza shifted with it, like a collective inhalation.
The camera panned to a forest trail half-drowned in mist and crimson bloom. A group of candidates huddled at the base of a shattered rock shelf, bloodied, exhausted. The monsters came like tides now—slavering beasts with mana-ripped limbs and jagged bodies stitched from elemental residue.
And holding the line between them—
Was him.
Reynald Vale.
"That guy," Aurelian said, sitting up straighter. "He's still going."
Selphine's expression didn't change, but her tone softened. "Of course he is."
The screen showed him mid-motion—a clean, downward arc of his blade as it bisected a lunging creature, before pivoting into a backward thrust to catch another. Every movement was deliberate, economical. Not showy. Not theatrical.
But measured.
Reynald's stance wasn't perfect, not like a royal tutor's demonstration—but it was the kind of posture that had been tempered by necessity, not drills. Each attack kept distance between the monsters and the wounded candidates behind him. His eyes flicked constantly—assessing, shielding, adjusting.
"He's got battlefield sense," Selphine said quietly. "That's rare in someone his age."
"And look at his footwork," Aurelian added, eyes tracking every shift. "Not trained like court knights. But not sloppy either. That's real-world form."
They watched as he slammed the pommel of his sword into a creature's jaw and turned with barely a pause, sword tip dragging a quick warding rune across the air before stepping back into guard.
"Back home," Selphine murmured, "my family's knights trained against constructs and stage duels. This guy isn't even lacking compared to them."
Aurelian nodded, his voice low, but sure. "He's not just fighting well. He's fighting smart. Every movement, every angle—he's conserving energy, protecting the others, adapting."
Selphine tilted her head slightly, studying Reynald's posture as he adjusted his stance again, positioning his body between a collapsed girl and a new wave of encroaching beasts. "No wasted effort. He knows exactly how much force to use to kill, and where to stand to take the hit instead of them."
Around them, more voices joined in—onlookers drawn to the same projection, expressions rapt with an emotion that wasn't just awe.
Respect.
A merchant with soot-smudged gloves murmured, "That boy's not just fighting to win. He's guarding them."
An elderly mage, cane resting against her knee, squinted up at the illusion and said, "He moves like someone who's already lost people. That's not courage. That's resolve."
A young boy sitting cross-legged on the cobblestone whispered, "He's like the old stories..."
From somewhere in the crowd, a nickname emerged—soft at first, then picked up by others.
| "The Bastion."
Aurelian heard it and let the word roll on his tongue. "Huh… The Bastion. That suits him."
Selphine nodded slowly. "Not a hero. Not a commander. Just the wall between ruin and the rest."
The projection flared again—Reynald launching into another engagement, sword flashing in a short arc, clean and brutal. One of the younger candidates behind him scrambled to her feet, clearly scared, but Reynald just shouted something over his shoulder and jerked his chin toward a safer path.
And she ran.
Alive.
Because of him.
"The Bastion," Aurelian repeated, quieter now.
And as the next wave hit and the convergence ring crept closer, the title didn't feel like fanfare.
It felt earned.
The projection pulsed again—marking a shift, a shimmer in the mana-weave. Reynald's quadrant receded into one side of the illusion sphere, and a new image swelled into view.
This time, it wasn't desperation the viewers saw.
It was momentum.
A group of candidates—six, maybe seven—were cutting a clean, deliberate path through the chaos. Unlike the scattered clusters elsewhere, this group moved as one. Fast. Cohesive. Efficient. Their spells weren't thrown in panic but woven with purpose—defensive barriers layered seamlessly, attack patterns overlapping without wasting a breath of mana.
And at their center—
A young woman.
She wasn't towering or armored, but the entire group shaped itself around her presence. The ground trembled as she stepped forward—vines, thick and thorned, bursting from the soil at her heels and surging outward like summoned serpents.
One wrapped around a construct's leg and yanked it backward, snapping its balance. Another group of vines coiled into a spiral shield, catching a mana spear mid-flight before dissolving into blooming petals.
Her control was not just strong—it was elegant.
Selphine's eyes narrowed slightly, then flicked to Aurelian. "You recognize her?"
"Of course I do," he said, already leaning forward. "She was in the southern bracket, early rounds. That's—I think her name was—"
[Mirellia Dane]
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