Thomas stopped, staring at the five skeletons. "Interesting. So you are a necromancer. Should've guessed from the skeleton companion."

  "Problem?" Alex asked, keeping his voice neutral.

  "Not for me. Just... unexpected." Thomas raised his lance. "But doesn't matter how many skeletons you raise—Nightmare can plow through them all. [Stampede Charge]!"

  The horse charged again, but this time through the five minor skeletons.

  The skeletons attacked—clumsy, uncoordinated, but enough to slow the horse. Claws scratched. Jaws bit. Small attacks that individually didn't do much but collectively disrupted momentum.

  Nightmare trampled through them—three shattered immediately—but its speed was reduced.

  "Now, Grim!"

  Grim seized the moment, leaping high, scythe spinning—

  He landed a clean hit on the horse's neck.

  [Critical Hit!]

  [Nightmare HP: 1,700/2,200]

  Thomas cursed. "Dirty tactics!"

  "Smart tactics," Alex corrected.

  The two remaining minor skeletons kept harassing the horse. They couldn't do much damage, but they forced Thomas to divide his attention.

  "Enough of this! Nightmare, [Spectral Blast]!"

  The horse roared—a sound no natural horse could make—and its body exploded with blue energy.

  [AOE Attack - 5m radius]

  The skeletons were vaporized instantly.

  Grim was thrown backward, armor cracking.

  [Grim HP: 420/650]

  And Alex himself caught the edge of the blast.

  [Alex HP: 620/760]

  Pain exploded in his chest. He dropped to one knee, coughing.

  Shit. That was... stronger than expected.

  "And Carter is hurt!" the commentator shouted. "Rider has taken control of this fight!"

  Thomas rode forward, lance raised for the final attack—

  Alex played his last card.

  [Soul Dominion Necklace - Maximum Power]

  [Reanimate x10 - All available remains]

  [MP: 70/410]

  [Vitality: 42/50] (necklace draining extra)

  Every fragment of remains in the arena—every bone, every scale, every piece of organic matter from defeated companions—glowed.

  And rose.

  Ten skeletons. Fifteen. Twenty.

  By the time it stopped, thirty minor skeletons stood scattered around the arena.

  The crowd went completely silent.

  Then exploded into chaos:

  "THIRTY?!"

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  "THAT'S NOT NORMAL!"

  "HOW MUCH POWER DOES HE HAVE?!"

  "THAT'S FORBIDDEN MAGIC!"

  The judges stood. Alex could see them urgently debating.

  But the referee—god bless her—held her position. "The fight continues until surrender or knockout!"

  Thomas stared at the thirty skeletons surrounding him. "Well. Shit."

  "Surrender," Alex said calmly. "Or my army overwhelms you."

  Thomas considered. His horse could probably destroy ten. Maybe fifteen. But thirty, all attacking coordinately...

  "I surrender," he finally said. "Well played, Carter. Well played."

  "VICTORY TO ALEX CARTER!"

  The crowd didn't roar. Didn't applaud uniformly.

  Instead, there was clear division:

  · Half applauded—impressed by the tactical display

  · Half booed—horrified by the necromancy display

  The commentators struggled:

  "Well... that was... certainly something—"

  "Thirty reanimations? How much MP does this kid have?"

  "And more importantly—is that even legal?"

  Alex walked out of the arena, exhausted. The thirty skeletons disintegrated behind him—their duration expiring.

  Grim followed, barely able to maintain Intermediate form.

  [Grim HP: 420/650]

  [Alex HP: 620/760]

  [Alex MP: 70/410]

  Maya was waiting for him, expression serious. "Alex. That was... that was too much. You showed too much."

  "I know."

  "No, I don't think you do." Maya grabbed his arm. "I saw the judges. I saw the Temple representative. They were all talking into their communicators. This is going to escalate."

  "What do you want me to do? Lose?"

  "No. Just..." Maya sighed. "Just prepare yourself. Because they're coming for you now."

  As if summoned, the speaker system crackled:

  "Alex Carter, please report to the Judges' Chamber immediately. Repeat—Alex Carter to the Judges' Chamber."

  Alex and Maya exchanged glances.

  "That was fast," Alex muttered.

  "Go," Maya said. "And Alex—whatever they ask, think before you answer. Don't give them more ammunition."

  ---

  [THAT NIGHT - HOTEL ROOM - 8:47 PM]

  After his victory, Alex had received an official summons: "Report to the Judges' Chamber tomorrow, 8 AM, before Quarterfinals."

  Not today. Tomorrow.

  Which probably meant they were compiling evidence. Preparing questions. Coordinating with multiple authorities.

  Alex had spent the night trying to rest, but it was impossible.

  His phone vibrated. Message from Viktor:

  "Saw your fight. Impressive. Also stupid. If they disqualify you, the Temple will use that as evidence of forbidden activity. You'll be arrested within a week. Be careful. - V"

  Another message, this one from Seraph:

  "Thirty skeletons. Seriously? I thought we were keeping a low profile. Now everyone knows you're a necromancer. Hope you have a plan. - S"

  One more, this one from Raven:

  "That was AMAZING! You should've seen people's faces! Pure panic. 10/10, no notes. Oh, and you'll probably be arrested. So that's less fun. Good luck! - R"

  And finally, Emily:

  "Alex... what are you doing? Please be careful. I know you think you can handle it, but the forces you're provoking... just... please be careful. - E"

  Alex pocketed the phone, rubbing his face.

  "Massive screw-up," he murmured to Grim, who was sitting on the windowsill in 80-centimeter form. "Definite massive screw-up."

  Grim tilted his head. You won. That. Matters.

  "Does it matter if I get disqualified tomorrow?"

  Grim had no answer for that.

  Alex lay down, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in his mind.

  Two victories. Advanced to the top 16.

  But at what cost.

  ---

  [NEXT DAY - JUDGES' CHAMBER - 7:47 AM]

  Alex arrived early. Not by choice—he anxiously couldn't stay in his room any longer.

  The Judges' Chamber was on the administrative level of the stadium. Heavy wooden door, no windows, designed for privacy and intimidation.

  Alex breathed deeply, knocked.

  "Enter," a voice called.

  He opened the door.

  The room was larger than expected. Long conference table. Ten people seated around.

  He recognized most:

  · Head Referee (the woman who'd officiated his fights)

  · Three Secondary Judges (various tournament officials)

  · Master Vance (of course)

  · Director Magnus (his former academy director, expression inscrutable)

  · Father Augustin (Temple representative—fifties, severe, robes that practically radiated divine authority)

  And sitting in the corner, looking completely out of place but smiling like he was enjoying it:

  Marcus Steele.

  "Carter," the Head Referee said. "Thank you for coming."

  "Didn't seem like I had a choice," Alex said.

  "You didn't," agreed Father Augustin. "Sit."

  Alex sat in the chair at the end of the table. Grim stood behind him at one meter tall, silent.

  "This is an official review," the Head Referee began. "Not a trial. You're not being accused of anything... yet. But your performance in the tournament has raised questions that need answers."

  Master Vance leaned forward. "Specifically about your use of necromancy. Thirty simultaneous reanimations. That's... highly unusual for any summoner, let alone an Iron-ranked one with a supposedly E-rank companion."

  "My companion evolved," Alex said. "I've already explained this—"

  "Yes, yes, 'battle bond'," Vance interrupted. "But evolutions don't explain mastery over thirty simultaneous undead. That requires training. Practice. The kind of practice that usually only comes from..."

  He paused significantly.

  "Extensive forbidden use."

  "Necromancy isn't forbidden," Alex pointed out. "It's restricted. There's a difference."

  "Technically correct," Father Augustin said. "But necromancy use requires special Temple license. Registration. Monitoring. Do you have a license?"

  "No."

  "Then you practiced illegally."

  "I practiced with skills granted by my system," Alex corrected. "When my companion evolved, he unlocked [Reanimate] as a system skill. It doesn't require external licensing."

  Father Augustin frowned. "System skills still fall under Temple jurisdiction when they involve death magic—"

  "With respect," the Head Referee interrupted, "we're getting off track. The question isn't whether Carter violated Temple licensing laws—that's matter for courts outside the tournament. The question is: did he violate tournament rules?"

  Silence.

  One of the Secondary Judges spoke: "We reviewed the rules. Necromancy... isn't explicitly forbidden. Forbidden magic usage was mentioned as 'strongly discouraged' but not technically illegal."

  "However," Vance added, "there are concerns about audience safety. Thirty uncontrolled undead could be dangerous—"

  "They weren't uncontrolled," Alex said firmly. "They followed my orders perfectly. No spectators were in danger."

  "And how do we know that's true?" Vance pressed. "How do we know you won't lose control in future matches—"

  "Because I haven't so far," Alex interrupted, frustration bleeding into his voice. "I've completed four matches. Four victories. Zero spectator injuries. Zero collateral damage. Zero rule violations."

  "But the perception—" Vance began.

  "Perception isn't my problem," Alex cut him off. "My problem is winning matches within the rules. Which I've done."

  Marcus Steele—who had been silent until now—finally spoke:

  "If I may offer perspective. As the top competitor and an Academy student, I'm committed to maintaining tournament integrity." He leaned back, smiling affably. "And honestly, I don't see a problem here. Carter used unconventional tactics. So what? Competition is about adapting. If his necromancy is so dangerous... well, his opponents should find countermeasures."

  He turned directly to Alex.

  "I just want to make sure this tournament stays clean, Carter. No dirty tricks. No rule violations. As long as you play fair..." He smiled wider. "I have no objections."

  The subtext was clear: I'm watching you. One misstep and I'll crush you.

  The Head Referee looked around the table. "Is there a motion to disqualify Alex Carter?"

  Vance raised his hand immediately.

  Father Augustin hesitated... then raised his hand as well.

  Two votes.

  "Motions to allow Carter to continue?"

  The three Secondary Judges raised hands. Head Referee as well. Director Magnus—surprisingly—also.

  Five votes.

  "Motion fails. Carter continues in the tournament." The Head Referee turned to Alex. "But hear this: future use of mass necromancy will be watched extremely closely. Any hint of danger to spectators, any loss of control, any rule violation—however minor—and you'll be disqualified immediately. Understood?"

  "Understood," Alex said.

  "You may go."

  Alex stood, started toward the door—

  "Oh, Carter," Marcus called. "I'll be watching your Quarterfinal match later. It should be... entertaining."

  Alex didn't respond. Just left, closing the door behind him.

  In the hallway, he allowed himself a moment to exhale.

  You survived. Still in the tournament.

  But barely.

  And the walls were definitely closing in.