Volume 2: Shenzhou Academy & The Battle of Venice
Chapter 195
Departure for the Holy City of Venice
A thin, milky veil of autumn morning mist draped over the rolling waves at the estuary of the Huangpu River.
At the Huangpu Port Magic Air Force Base—a top-secret military installation guarding the fringes of the Magic Metropolis’s coastline—the five-o’clock morning air was thick with biting chill and suffocating solemnity. Every three hundred meters, a platinum anti-aircraft rune pillar soared fifty meters into the sky, their summits blazing with pale-green lightning bolts that interlaced into a multi-layered protective barrier, shielding the entire military airspace from both satellite reconnaissance and deep-sea demonic beasts.
On launch pad number one, a massive steel magical beast crouched silently upon the heat-resistant granite foundation.
This was the “White Roc”—a state-of-the-art strategic magic transport aircraft jointly crafted by the Central Magical Research Institute and the Divine Continent Military Command. It was a flagship vessel reserved exclusively for heads of state and special military delegations on cross-continental diplomatic missions.
The fuselage spanned over eighty meters in length, its entire surface forged from ultra-thin Platinum Profound Iron alloy, reflecting the faint dawn light into cold, silver-white bands. The hull was sculpted in the likeness of an ancient mythological roc, its twin wings spreading wide like razor-sharp blades that cleaved the air. Thousands of Wind and Lightning rune conduits were etched into every single metallic grain. At the tail of the aircraft, three massive Wind-Lightning magic core propulsion clusters idled in standby mode, emitting a muffled, resonant roar akin to the breathing of a slumbering giant dragon that made even the loose sand particles on the tarmac tremble.
At the base of the boarding ramp leading to the main cabin, ten figures in the uniform of the Divine Continent National Team stood in immaculate formation.
The team’s unified combat attire was a profound, mystical black, accented with exquisite gold-threaded piping running along the lapels and shoulder epaulets. Across the back of each garment, the emblem of a Five-Clawed Golden Dragon coiled around the Divine Continent crest, woven from ice-fire magic beast silk. It radiated both regal majesty and the boundless, defiant pride of the East’s most exceptional prodigies.
Standing at the absolute vanguard was Lin Feng.
The eighteen-year-old youth possessed a lean, upright stature, his dark hair swaying gently in the salty sea breeze drifting in from Whale Sea. Ever since his decisive summit battle against Ye Lingtian to ascend to the throne of the Divine Continent Magic Academy’s New King, followed by his successful closed-door cultivation to fuse the top-tier Spirit Seed “Wild Lightning Absolute Shadow,” Lin Feng’s aura had undergone a complete metamorphosis.
Gone was the sharp, outward-edged brilliance he displayed back in the border city; he now possessed the tranquil depth of a ten-thousand-fathom abyss. His black eyes were placid and still, his hands hanging naturally at his sides. He radiated not a single shred of magic energy fluctuation. Yet, any high-level mage standing before Lin Feng would feel an invisible, suffocating pressure weighing upon their chest, as if standing before a dormant volcano buried beneath the deep sea—beneath its serene exterior lay world-shattering power ready to tear the firmament asunder at any moment.
Standing right beside Lin Feng was the former Leader of the Battle Rankings—Ye Lingtian.
The grievous injuries sustained from that fateful Violent Dragon Fist had been completely healed by the academy’s top-tier Healing System mages. Donning the attire of the vice-captain, Ye Lingtian still maintained his spine as straight as a steel spear planted across a battlefield. His sword-like brows twitched upward slightly, his lips curling into his familiar, cold arrogance. Occasionally, the space around his shoulders would ripple faintly like water struck by a pebble—testifying to how his Space System realm, following his recent defeat, had become even more refined, taking a giant stride toward the threshold of the Advanced tier.
Behind the two stood the most brilliant faces of the Divine Continent’s younger generation.
Ye Qingwan stood amidst the morning wind, her graceful and ethereal demeanor resembling a snow lotus blossoming upon a perilous cliff. Her long, ink-black hair was loosely bound with a sapphire silk ribbon, her flawless, exquisite face radiating gentle wisdom. Her gaze drifted softly toward Lin Feng’s sturdy back ahead of her, the corners of her lips curling into a secretive, warm smile.
Beside her, Gu Xiaowei—the usually bubbly Lightning System maiden—was standing on her tiptoes, peering admiringly at the colossal transport aircraft. Her dainty hands, encased in magical gloves, clenched in eager excitement:
“Good heavens, is this the legendary White Roc? I read about it in Military Magic magazine! This transport is equipped with Commander-tier magic core engines, reaching cruising altitudes of up to twenty thousand meters, bypassing all demonic storm forbidden zones in the troposphere! Its top speed can hit three times the speed of sound!”
“Xiaowei, mind your posture. You are now an official team member of the Divine Continent National Team; stop hopping around like a child visiting an amusement park for the first time.”
Standing nearby, Han Yue issued a gentle reminder. The proud, icy Ice System beauty maintained her characteristic aloof elegance. Wisps of ethereal white mist hovered around the hem of her black dress, causing every step she took upon the ground to leave a trail of glittering frost. Though her words were stern, a turbulent wave flickered within Han Yue’s cold depths as she gazed at the exquisite war machine before them.
Zhao Tianlei and the other members of both the main roster and reserves clenched their fists, each feeling their hearts beating wildly against their ribs.
At that moment, heavy, decisive footsteps echoing across the tarmac shattered the silence.
The head of the delegation—Advisor Tan Leng—strode forward. The silver-haired military general, his weathered face etched with scars left by marine beast claws, wore a grand general’s uniform studded with gleaming medals. He halted before the formation of ten young competitors, his falcon-sharp gaze sweeping across their vibrant faces.
A brief silence hung in the air, broken only by the whistling wind cutting past the aircraft wings.
“My children,” Tan Leng spoke in a deep, resonant voice, not overly loud yet echoing like thunder directly into everyone’s hearts: “From the moment you step foot onto the boarding ramp of the White Roc, your status is no longer that of students from any academy, nor do you represent the clans or factions standing behind you.”
He raised a hand, pointing directly at the Five-Clawed Golden Dragon emblem embroidered on each person’s chest:
“Behind you lies the magnificent rivers and mountains of the Divine Continent, and the expectations of one billion four hundred million compatriots! The Venice World Tournament, held once every decade, is not a stage for pampered young masters to play out fancy spell-casting games. It is an arena where humanity’s magical resources, ore bloodlines, and international standing for the entire coming decade are contested!”
Tan Leng drew a deep breath, his voice hardening like quenched steel:
“In the past dozen tournaments, the Western alliances have continually resorted to every conceivable trick to suppress and isolate our delegation. They call the Divine Continent the floor-sweepers, claiming we only deserve the middle of the top 16. This time in Venice, old man, I do not ask you to preserve polite harmony! On the arena floor, whoever dares block the Divine Continent’s path—use your fists to grind them into dust! Do you understand?!”
“Understood!!!”
Ten youthful voices roared in unison, tearing through the morning mist and sending shockwaves of towering morale across the entire Huangpu airfield!
“Board the aircraft!”
Tan Leng waved his arm forcefully.
Lin Feng took the lead, striding with resolute steps up the armored boarding ramp. The entire team filed sequentially into the luxurious cabin, where each magic beast leather-seated chair was engineered to withstand extreme G-forces.
The heavy cabin door sealed shut with a crisp, sharp click.
“Whoosh... BOOM!”
The three Wind-Lightning engine clusters erupted with brilliant indigo radiance, driving the transport aircraft hurtling down the runway before tearing through the blanket of white clouds, rocketing into the vast expanse of the skies at terrifying velocity as it headed toward the west of the Eurasian continent.
The flight spanned over ten thousand miles of space.
The White Roc cruised steadily in the stratosphere at an altitude of fifteen thousand meters. Below the reinforced glass windows, the overlapping snowy ranges of the Kunlon Mountains, the desolate, monster-infested deserts of Central Asia, and the boundless sprawling forests of Eastern Europe flashed past like a magnificent documentary film.
After over ten hours of continuous flight, the transport began descending as it entered Southern European airspace.
When the thick bank of clouds ahead parted, a placid, azure sea resembling a colossal mirror emerged beneath the brilliant glow of the setting sun. The Adriatic Sea welcomed travelers from afar with the gorgeous orange-gold hues of late afternoon.
And right in the center of that bay, the Water City of Venice—the magical holy land hosting this year’s World Tournament—came fully into view for the entire Divine Continent team.
“Oh, heavens...” Gu Xiaowei pressed her face against the reinforced glass window, gasping in involuntary awe.
Not only her, but even Ye Lingtian and Lin Feng gazed intently down at the magnificent scenery below.
The Venice of the magic world far surpassed ordinary architectural conventions. It was not merely an ancient metropolis interwoven with canals, but a grandiose magical masterpiece forged from the flawless fusion of water, earth, and sky.
Beneath the sea surface, hundreds of magical waterways emitted a pale blue fluorescent glow, interweaving like gigantic blood vessels nourishing the entire city. The seawater in the canals was far from murky; it was as clear as jade, continually circulating along preset trajectories thanks to the coordination of thousands of ancient Water System array formations embedded deep within the bay. Thousands of slender, silver-inlaid gondolas glided smoothly across the water, leaving glittering, silk-like wakes behind them.
On shore, Gothic and Renaissance palaces with gold-plated domes and towering marble bell towers rose proudly in the sunset light.
Yet, the most breathtaking wonder of all lay suspended in the air!
Floating above the ancient city were over thirty colossal artificial flying islands—Floating Islands. These landmasses were levitated by millennia-old Earth and Wind System magic cores, their surfaces blanketed in vibrant, fragrant hanging gardens and the magnificent castles of European grand clans. Connecting the floating islands to the ground below were luminescent pillars of water flowing upward from the sea against gravity via magical anti-gravitational forces, forming floating ribbons of water suspended mid-air, as breathtaking and ethereal as a reborn Greek mythology.
And right at the heart of the entire bay, a majestic architectural marvel stood reigning, eclipsing all surrounding sights.
That was the Oceanus Colosseum!
The colossal elliptical arena boasted a seating capacity of up to three hundred thousand spectators. Its entire foundation pillars and stands were cast from deep-sea jade stone combined with anti-magic profound iron. At the four corners of the arena stood four Sea-Suppressing Towers hundreds of meters in height, densely carved with ancient totem seals to block any tsunami waves surging in from the Mediterranean.
Most shocking of all, the entire arena floor possessed no earthen foundation whatsoever, but was instead a fathomless expanse of magical water. Controlled by a supreme array system, this body of water could instantly transform to simulate dozens of perilous combat terrains: from eternal ice islands, jagged underwater reefs, and deadly whirlpools to toxic coral forests...
At that moment, along the stands and surrounding the arena, tens of thousands of flags representing participating nations fluttered wildly in the sea breeze. Cheers and magical music echoed across the bay, turning the location into the focal point of all humanity.
“How magnificent...” Ye Qingwan murmured softly, her clear eyes reflecting the glittering sunset upon the sea surface: “To be able to construct a marine magic arena of this scale—the foundation of the European Magic League truly cannot be underestimated.”
“No matter how grand the scale, this is still nothing more than a beast-fighting cage.” Ye Lingtian folded his arms coldly across his chest, his sharp gaze lingering at the center of the arena floor: “The only thing that matters is which beast will ultimately survive and walk out of there.”
Lin Feng said nothing, but his right hand resting at his waist gently touched the Primordial Dragon Talisman hidden beneath his garments. Within his spiritual space, the Dragon Talisman vibrated rhythmically, as if equally sensing the stimulation from the abundant marine magic energy of this land.
The White Roc executed a flawless aerial arc before landing at Floating Dock Number One—a specialized area reserved exclusively for the transport aircraft of the world’s seeded national teams.
Upon completing diplomatic entry formalities, an armored open-top magic vehicle provided by the organizing committee drove the Divine Continent delegation across the light bridge spanning the bay, heading straight for their official residence: the Venice Royal Grand Palace.
The Venice Royal Grand Palace was a majestic castle situated right along the banks of the Grand Canal, reserved exclusively for official competitors, coaches, and VIPs of participating nations in the world finals.
Passing through a ten-meter-tall, pure-gold inlaid arched gate, the Divine Continent delegation entered the reception lobby.
The vast lobby was comparable to a small plaza; its soaring vaulted ceiling was densely painted with frescoes depicting the mythological war between ancient archmages and monstrous beast lords. Dozens of Murano crystal chandeliers suspended mid-air cast a warm yet immensely extravagant golden glow. The floor, paved with gleaming white marble, was polished to a mirror-like finish reflecting every passing figure.
Yet, beneath this opulent, aristocratic veneer, the atmosphere within the lobby was thick with the scent of gunpowder and extreme tension.
Hearth and home to hundreds of young competitors from top magic superpowers across five continents, the lobby was fully packed, with groups scattered across lounge areas and luxury bars. Each faction wore combat uniforms bearing distinct national motifs, and from their bodies, subterranean magic energy pressures continuously collided and probed one another unconsciously.
In the eastern corner of the lobby, the United Team of America sat gathered around a long table of red sandalwood. They wore skin-tight, silvery-gray mobile tactical outfits forged from synthetic magic fibers, pinned with blazing platinum Thunder Falcon emblems on their chests. Their blonde-haired captain, possessing a heavyweight physique, lounged indolently in an armchair, his legs propped across the tea table as he twirled a spinning lightning crystal, his haughty gaze sweeping across the surroundings like a sovereign surveying commoners.
To the west sat the British Empire Team. The aristocratic youths donned deep crimson formal cloaks edged with pure white fur, bearing the crest of the Knights of the Round Table embroidered on their chests. Holding short magic wands carved with classic patterns, they leisurely sipped black tea with aloof, distant expressions, acting as though no one else in the hall existed in their eyes.
The German Team sat in the northern corner with absolute, disciplined ash-gray attire. Eight members sat as straight as cold steel statues, uttering not a single word from start to finish, yet the steady, heavy aura radiating from them caused not a soul to dare approach within a ten-step radius.
In the south, the Greece Team wore pristine white silk garments styled after temple vestments, radiating a gentle yet unfathomably mysterious blessing glow. Not far away, the Japan Team, clad in jet-black modernized ninja garments, sat cross-legged in silence upon the carpet, their suppressed aura nearly dissolving into the shadows of the stone pillars.
The appearance of the Divine Continent National Team instantly shattered the lobby’s tranquil equilibrium.
Ten figures in solemn, gold-piped deep black uniforms strode uniformly into the grand hall. The heavy, rigorous aura of the Eastern team immediately drew dozens of sharp gazes sweeping in from all directions.
Some gazes held astonishment, others probing curiosity, but the majority remained indifferent, aloof, and laced with undisguised contempt.
In the eyes of Western superpowers, though the Divine Continent spanned vast lands with a massive population, it had lacked any truly earth-shattering achievements on the international magic stage for many years. Their highest standing in the previous tournament had merely scraped into the top 16 before bowing out miserably against the Spanish Team. Such a team naturally lacked the qualifications to draw concern from championship contenders.
While Advisor Tan Leng and his military assistants headed toward the royal reception desk to process VIP suite assignments, the young Divine Continent competitors paused in the central lounge area.
At that moment, a mocking, grating laugh rang out from the bar counter opposite them.
A group of six competitors wearing deep crimson combat uniforms with silver piping strode forward, blocking the walkway leading to the elevators for the Divine Continent delegation.
They were the Western Union Team—an emerging magic military superpower on the western coast of the Old Continent, notorious for brutal combat styles, heavy reliance on high-grade magic tools, and serving as enthusiastic front-runners in attacking the Divine Continent at international magic assemblies.
Leading them was their captain—a brawny youth nearly two meters tall named Gabriel.
He possessed shoulder-width befitting a guardian deity, buzz-cut chestnut hair, and a long diagonal scar across his left cheek that made his visage all the more ferocious. Four shining magic combat medals gleamed on his chest. Holding a crystal wine glass filled with crimson liquid, he strolled along while swirling the wine lightly, his lips curling into an ultimate, arrogant sneer.
Gabriel stopped about five paces away from Lin Feng, his lewd gaze sweeping past Ye Lingtian before resting on Ye Qingwan and Han Yue with blatant disrespect. Then, he spoke in a shrill, mocking tone, intentionally projecting his voice across the entire hall in international magical speech:
“Oho, look who just dragged their carcasses to Venice? Aren’t these the ‘Eastern earthworms’ who always call themselves the Divine Dragons?”
He threw his head back in roaring laughter, the sound echoing through the space and causing everyone in the lobby to halt and listen:
“Hahaha! I actually thought that after your humiliating defeat last term, you’d know your place and stay home in closed-door cultivation for a few more decades! Daring to show your faces here again this year to make fools of yourselves? You barely crawled to fourteenth place last time, almost dropping into the trash tier. The organizing committee is far too generous this year for still granting a seeded slot to a bunch of floor-sweepers like you!”
The scrawny competitor trailing behind Gabriel immediately chimed in with a shrill laugh:
“Captain Gabriel speaks absolute truth! A bunch of no-name rookies who’ve never seen battlefield bloodshed, flying halfway across the globe just to act as target practice for us? If you know what’s good for you, pack your bags and go home early, lest you start crying for your mamas once you hit the arena!”
As those brazenly insulting words died down, the entire Western Union team burst into savage laughter.
Around the lobby, competitors from several of Western Union’s vassal states chuckled in sycophancy. At the table of the American Team, the arrogant blonde captain casually sipped his wine, his lips curling into mockery as if watching a cheap farce. Not a soul stepped in to intervene; all held a wait-and-see attitude to watch how the Divine Continent delegation would swallow this humiliation.
“What did you say?!”
Gu Xiaowei flushed crimson with fury, her fists clenching so hard her knuckles cracked: “If you’ve got the guts, settle it in the arena! Stop barking like rabid dogs here!”
“A bunch of ignorant frogs at the bottom of a well.” Han Yue coldly stepped forward by half a pace. Beneath the heels of her boots, a wave of bone-chilling frost instantly radiated across the marble floor, turning the surrounding stone into a sheet of white ice as the lobby temperature dropped below freezing instantly.
Yet, the most violent and dangerous reaction came from Ye Lingtian.
As the proudest genius who once stood atop the Magic Metropolis, the arrogant bones within Ye Lingtian’s marrow had never permitted anyone to insult his national honor right before his eyes!
“Swish... swish... swish!”
Ye Lingtian’s black hair bristled slightly upward. His eyes shot out two streams of bone-chilling silver light.
The space within a three-meter radius around Ye Lingtian warped violently. Razor-sharp Memory Space ripples began oscillating at ultra-high frequencies, accompanied by dozens of deep-blue lightning bolts crackling across his ten fingertips. Thick, suffocating killing intent erupted. Ye Lingtian clenched his fist, his right foot preparing to stomp hard against the ground to lunge forward and tear Gabriel’s filthy mouth into a hundred pieces.
He cared not for hotel regulations; anyone daring to insult the Divine Continent before him faced only one outcome!
“Lingtian.”
A calm, steady voice rang out precisely on cue.
A slender yet unshakeable hand as sturdy as Mount Tai suddenly rested upon Ye Lingtian’s shoulder.
That hand exerted not a shred of magic power, but the instant it touched his shoulder, a warm, formidable surging force akin to a primordial dragon awakening transmitted gently inward, instantly suppressing Ye Lingtian’s turbulent spatial vibrations and surging lightning back into his meridians.
Ye Lingtian paused, turning his head to look.
Lin Feng had stepped forward.
Lin Feng’s expression remained bizarrely placid. He shook his head slightly at Ye Lingtian, signaling: Do not let the opponent drag us into violating organizing committee regulations.
Ye Lingtian drew a deep breath, suppressing his fury as he slowly withdrew his killing intent and stepped back by half a pace.
Lin Feng turned, facing the giant Gabriel standing a few paces away all by himself.
Seeing a scholarly, slender youth step out to replace Ye Lingtian, Gabriel grew even more smug. He leaned forward, thrusting his hideous, scarred face toward Lin Feng, baring yellowish teeth in a grin as he spoke in a threatening tone:
“What’s this, little punk? Haven’t even shed all your down feathers and you’re trying to play captain? Look at that sickly frame of yours—this world tournament is a place that grinds bones, not a kindergarten! Best tell your teammates to kneel and apologize to me, otherwise if we draw Western Union in the group stage, I’ll—”
Before his threat could finish, the sound in Gabriel’s throat choked off abruptly.
Lin Feng raised his head.
Those same placid black eyes remained, but the exact moment their gazes met mid-air, within the deep recesses of Lin Feng’s pupils, an unusually profound spark of lightning and fire flashed.
There was not a single chanting motion.
Not a single magic star orbit or star map was connected.
Yet, deep within Lin Feng’s soul, the overwhelming pressure of the Primordial Dragon Talisman and the destructive might of the Dual Spirit Seeds “Wild Lightning Absolute Shadow” and “Crimson Flame Flowing Fire” suddenly circulated once!
“BOOM!!!”
An invisible Mental Oppression akin to thunder descending from the nine heavens crashed straight down onto the top of Gabriel’s head!
That aura was not ordinary elemental magic, but true DRAGON AWE—the absolute majesty of primordial beast lords combined with a peak Intermediate soul force that had bathed in the blood of thousands of demonic beasts! The mental wave condensed into an invisible sledgehammer, striking directly into the mind and sea of consciousness of the Western Union captain!
In an instant, the world before Gabriel’s eyes completely collapsed.
He no longer saw the luxurious Venice hotel lobby, nor the surrounding teams. Before him now lay a blood-red void, and from amidst that churning sea of magma, an ancient divine dragon with purplish-black blazing pupils as massive as twin suns was coldly looking down upon him!
His body temperature spiked instantly as if cast into a purgatory furnace, yet simultaneously, millions of invisible lightning bolts pierced through every nerve cell, paralyzing his entire meridian and muscular system!
An extreme sense of suffocation gripped Gabriel’s trachea, making his heart hammer wildly as if trying to burst through his ribs!
“Crack... CRACK... CRACK!”
The expensive magical crystal wine glass Gabriel held loosely in his hand suddenly trembled violently, then fractured into hundreds of spiderweb-like cracks!
The invisible mental pressure squeezing the space within a three-meter radius around Lin Feng thickened like mercury, and the oak tea table beside them groaned with creaking sounds as if about to shatter!
“SMASH!!!”
The crystal glass ultimately failed to endure the terrifying pressure, exploding into a cloud of sharp fragments!
Deep crimson wine splattered mid-air like a shower of blood!
Yet, a spine-chilling sight unfolded before everyone in the lobby:
All the crimson wine drops and glass fragments hurtling toward Lin Feng struck an absolute invisible barrier of qi one meter from his body, instantly being pulverized into dust and fluttering uselessly onto the marble floor!
Lin Feng’s gold-piped black robe didn’t even flutter a single fraction of an inch!
“Gasp... PUFF!”
Gabriel opened his mouth and spewed a mouthful of fresh blood, his complexion shifting instantly from flushed red to corpse-white, his eyes bulging wide with bloodshot veins and utter terror. His chest seized with pain as if struck head-on by an armored chariot, his trembling knees uncontrollable.
“Thud! Thud! BAM!”
Gabriel staggered backward three heavy steps, his heel crashing hard against the table leg behind him and tilting the table over as his hundred-plus-kilo powerhouse frame collapsed onto one knee on the floor! He clutched his chest, gasping for breath in heavy, ragged spasms like a drowning man just dragged from the sea depths, cold sweat soaking straight through his combat uniform back!
The vast reception lobby plunged into a deathly silence.
So still that one could practically hear a dust mote falling onto the stone floor.
The Western Union competitors who had moments earlier been mocking and smirking now turned pale as ghosts, retreating in panic as they stared at Lin Feng as if gazing at a monster in human skin.
At the American Team’s table, the arrogant blonde captain slammed his feet flat onto the floor, the wine glass in his hand freezing mid-air. His falcon-sharp eyes constricted into two needle-points, staring intently at the youth of the Divine Continent with unprecedented gravity.
The proud aristocrats of the British Team halted their tea cups, hands instinctively tightening around their wand hilts.
The cold steel captain of the German Team narrowed his eyes slightly, thin lips moving to mutter a sentence in heavy German: “Idea suppression... A soul force far surpassing the Intermediate realm!”
Amidst hundreds of gazes frozen in shock, Lin Feng casually shoved his hands into his uniform jacket pockets.
He didn’t even bother lowering his gaze to look at the figure kneeling on the floor. The youth calmly turned, his steady steps advancing toward the newly opened royal elevator doors.
As he walked past the trembling Western Union remnants who had scrambled aside to clear the path, Lin Feng’s voice rang out.
His tone carried no shouting, nor any blatant killing intent, yet it was as calm and clear as a resounding bronze bell, striking directly into the souls of all competitors present in the hall:
“The arena will teach you how to respect the Divine Continent.”
The gold-plated elevator doors slowly closed.
The straight, proud back of the Divine Continent team vanished behind the doors, leaving behind a breathless lobby and an atmosphere thick with blazing gunpowder.
The Venice World Tournament had yet to officially open fire, but the first warning shot had rung out! The fires of war on the international stage had ignited, and anyone daring to underestimate the Divine Continent would better prepare themselves to face the wrath of the thunder!