Inside the arena, every student saw the vast swathes of murky crimson cloud drifting in from the horizon.

Over the Bard Mountain Range the mass split into a dozen red clusters, each angling toward a different academy's territory.

"What's that?"

"Monsters—more Monsters! Why are there so many!"

The students below were near collapse. Barely half an hour since the last wave, another had arrived.

The waves were coming too fast—no breathing room—they were about to break.

On the rocky hill where Siria's team held their ground, the flames outside their wall still roared.

As the flying Monsters drew closer, firelight revealed their forms.

Under the dim canopy, Bat Fiends stretched razor foreclaws; thin membranes were strung taut between elongated finger bones; grotesque muzzles housed pairs of red, gleaming, flickering eyes.

"They're finally here." Luo Wei sighed—without the panic the professors expected.

Reverse‑engineering the examiners' mindset—grasping the intent behind a question—was test‑taking 101.

Long before the match began, Luo Wei had put herself on the professors' side of the table, considering how they'd build it.

Referencing Round One's layout—swimmers, runners, fliers—all covered.

Round Two couldn't be simpler than Round One; it wouldn't be only ground combat while leaving "air raid" potential unused.

So, when erecting the defenses, she prepared a comprehensive plan for every attack vector: burrowers or fliers—she had counters.

Flying Magic Beasts are usually a headache; at first she wasn't sure they could hold. A bit of luck would matter.

But once she saw the incoming wave were Bat Fiends—she knew this one was in the bag.

Creatures of the Sky Demon Race are mostly flying organisms corrupted by dark aura, retaining baseline physiology.

Compared with other Sky Demon Race fiends, Bat Fiends have the most weaknesses: afraid of flame, intense light, choking smoke, acrid gases.

Unlucky twist: today was rainy. Fire, dense smoke, and irritant fumes were all damped by rain and humidity.

And their territory was a bare stone hill—hard rock surface, sparse vegetation—little on hand to generate thick smoke or stench.

From that angle, Bat Fiends were practically a hard counter to them.

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However, Luo Wei had a science education. She knew bats' greatest vulnerability—ultrasound.

As the only flying mammals, bats have been thoroughly studied for centuries. Radar, inspired by their echolocation, also became an excellent deterrent.

Intense ultrasound disrupts a bat's judgment—scrambling orientation, causing disorientation, even provoking prey misidentification so they attack their own.

And Luo Wei happened to know how to make ultrasound.

Use Lightning Magic Runes plus a thunder spellchant to drive current, shaping magnetic vortices—forming a magnetic field—then modulate current to excite electromagnetic oscillation.

Apply the piezoelectric effect: the dielectric medium deforms, producing ultrasonic frequencies.

As for a suitable dielectric—well—while other materials were scarce, quartzite lay everywhere.

It took little time. Luo Wei lofted a violet‑glinting lightning sphere skyward; the team's five members at once raised their hands, channeling ample mana into the Lightning Magic Runes.

Those runes' original role was to form a defensive electrified grid—now repurposed to generate ultrasound, saving mana compared to a full grid.

"Keni-no Gramani-no Leido…" Luo Wei murmured. Purple, nerve‑ending filaments of current unfurled from her wand tip.

The current climbed the stone wall; quartzite crystal lattices, under the external field, rapidly polarized and minutely deformed—settling into stable high‑frequency oscillation—emitting sound no human ear could hear: ultrasound.

Bloodthirsty Bat Fiends poised to dive into Siria's territory suddenly listed sideways—wings thrashing, dizzy mid‑air.

Bats can see—but now visual input and warped sonic input clashed; their already limited brains knotted in confusion.

Ground‑generated ultrasonic modulation kept shifting—one pulse urged "forward," the next "back," then a plaintive "Mom, I'm hungry," then—more absurd—voices cooing "hubby, wifey."

Were the things below hungry pups—or some lecherous Bat Fiend flirting? Couldn't understand—absolutely couldn't.

After wavering in mid‑air, the swarm chose to split up.

Those with actual offspring couldn't ignore "children" crying hunger and wobble‑flew off to find food.

Those hearing flirtatious calls yet not in breeding season shivered at the sudden "passionate courtship," snapped their wings, and fled in a panic.

By the time the ground sounds stabilized, the few Bat Fiends still lingering were badly rattled.

"Danger! Danger! Danger!"

Shrill alarm packets drilled into their ears. Trembling, they broke and scattered.

At the magic mirror a cluster of professors gaped, dumbstruck.

"Wh—what just happened?"

"Why did the Bat Fiends flee? Siria's team didn't even do anything!"

They couldn't believe it—didn't want to.

Why did every stroke of good fortune fall into Siria's lap!

"These Monsters are clearly defective," Professor Chester declared heatedly. "I propose we summon another batch—deploy a fresh wave on Siria's junior team!"

"All arena Monsters were summoned together from the same scroll set," Professor Moses replied, a warning beneath her calm. "Are you questioning Prince Alfried's fairness, Professor Chester?"

"I—I meant no such thing!" Chester shot a fearful look at Prince Alfried. "Your Highness, I only suspect those Monsters—or, no—that Siria's team used some illegal magic tool."

"An illegal tool?" Moses scoffed. "At entry you smashed open even our students' bread to check it. What—feel the search still wasn't thorough enough?"

"Your Siria students are endlessly cunning—who knows if they—"

"Silence!"

Prince Alfried's brow creased; Knight Bruce stepped forward, cutting Chester off.

Voices died instantly; the viewing hall went dead quiet.

"Everyone," Prince Alfried pressed his temples, voice edged with fatigue, "I trust all present are of upright character, and would not speculate without evidence—correct?"

Heads dipped. A weak, collective "Yes."

"Siria's team drove off the Monsters with ingenuity. Our failure to understand does not mean they did not work. They merit commendation, not suspicion."

With that he brushed his sleeve and stood.

"I already know the outcome of this match—no need to watch further. Come, Bruce, Antoine."

"Yes, Your Highness."

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