Celestia's grand amphitheater glowed under layers of light pulsing along the walls.
Massive and circular, it could hold hundreds of students and instructors, all seated in wide, stacked rows.
Floating orbs hovered overhead, projecting the fights to every corner.
Today marked the opening of the Mock Battle Festival.
The premise was simple: one-on-one combat, magical or physical, between students.
Show off your skill, your strategy, your presence. It was the biggest event of the semester, a time for rising stars to dazzle the school and secure recommendations, class promotions, and attention.
On paper, the match-ups were randomized.
In practice? Let's just say that this world had canon events.
Jericho sat in the student stands, coat folded on his lap, his expression passive. But inside, his mind was racing.
In the game, the pairings were always the same.
No matter how many times you reset, the key battles were set in stone, and the results would only change if Shin wasn't around Lena.
Since they're together... I already know what's going to happen.
And he did.
The first few matches were warm-ups: weak magic, basic swordplay, one guy who summoned a chicken for a shady reason.
Then the real fights began.
Lena Arkwell fought hard. She got pushed around at first, her opponent using strong water magic. The crowd already dismissed her. But Jericho knew better.
Wait for it...
She shifted her stance, flared her mana, and used a triple cast: wind shield, mirror step, and fire burst. Her opponent fell, stunned.
Jericho smirked.
Called it.
Garrick Torvald, the countryside gentle giant, crushed with ground magic and punches. Simple and strong.
Kaela Thorn, the red-haired archer, danced through her match like a flame, ending it with a back-shot arrow that made the crowd scream.
Sylvie D'Ambroise, tall and elegant, barely lifted a hand. The wind moved when she did. Her opponent surrendered in fear.
Leon, the small swordsman, was a blur of fast and clean strikes. The fight ended in less than a minute.
Jericho nodded.
That's the protagonists for you. Seeing them in real life feels way different than on screen. Still...
His eyes sharpened.
If I could bet on this, I'd make a fortune.
He looked around. Tension. Whispers. Discussions on potential winners.
Wait... Betting. Oh, yes. Gambling!
With my knowledge, I could—
"So this is where the rot set up his little nest."
Jericho turned, and face to him, a new, but familiar problematic person faced him.
Seris Valenfort, his ex-girlfriend.
Before Jericho's fall, Seris had been at his side. A noble through and through, from her polished shoes to her silken words. She had dated him not because of love, but because of status.
Jericho, the noble brat with swagger and wealth, had been a perfect accessory to her carefully curated life.
But the moment his scandal erupted, his suspension, his disgrace, the incident with Lena, Seris vanished.
No words. No letters. Just one clean, public breakup: a slap to the face and a declaration that she "never really loved him anyway."
She'd never appeared in the story again.
Until now.
"So the rumors were true," Seris said with a venomous smile, arms crossed as she leaned toward Jericho, her voice just loud enough to cut through the excitement of the battles.
Her friends flanked her, all dressed in refined coats, acting superior as they watched the match below like they were judging a theater performance.
Jericho didn't even look up.
"And what might you, bunch of hooligans, want?"
"Still hiding behind sarcasm. I suppose it's all you have left now that you're no longer noble. How's the forest, Jericho? Any new mud recipes?"
Her friends snickered.
"Did you really build your camp from logs and fish bones? That's so tragic, it might loop back around to fashionable."
"Selling sticks now, I heard. The famous Ashenwald Armory of Forest Junk."
Jericho looked up.
"You done, or is this a new noble's hobby? Mocking people poorer than you while doing absolutely nothing with your life? Do you really have that much time on your hands?"
Their laughter stopped.
Seris narrowed her eyes.
"Excuse me?"
Jericho stood up, cleaning the blade with his coat.
"I might feel bad because of what happened, but there's a limit to my guilt, especially against people this shameless."
He pointed.
"You—" he gestured to the girl holding a parasol despite being under a roof, "you only got into the alchemy program because your daddy slipped the department head a fat purse. If merit were required, you'd still be stuck writing essays on herbal basics."
The girl gasped, face twisting in anger.
"That's not true! I earned—"
"Save it for someone who didn't see your story."
He turned.
"And you," Jericho looked at a young man with an elegant tie, "can't cast a spell without borrowing your family's overpriced wand. Remember that time you tried a fireball in class and set your own wand on fire? You've become famous literally for that."
The boy opened his mouth, then closed it again, blushing furiously. One of the nearby students stifled a laugh.
Jericho smiled thinly.
"As for you," he said to a third noble, "you failed two dueling courses until your daddy paid for a private combat tutor who practically took the tests for you. You're a walking fraud."
The student flushed red, fists clenching at his sides.
"T-That was a misunderstanding! The tutor only gave guidance!"
Jericho raised an eyebrow.
"Right. And the magically appearing passing grade was divine intervention, I suppose? This group was basically the loser gang with me the king pimp. And now, I've evolved, so now you don't even have a real leader. What kind of parasite does zero effect?"
Seris's face turned red.
"You arrogant bastard! How dare you act like you're better than us? After everything you did?"
Jericho shrugged.
"I don't have to act. And I didn't do it. But let's pretend I did. This is the lowest point I will reach, and I still came out of it alive. What would you have done, Seris?"
She clenched her fists.
"I left you because I saw what you really were. A coward, a failure, and a disgrace. You embarrassed me in front of everyone."
"You mean I stopped being useful. Got it."
"You're still the same piece of crap," she growled. "And soon, when you get crushed in the mock battle, it'll be my turn to laugh. Your opponent will destroy you, Jericho. They'll avenge every girl you ever hurt."
Jericho rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. Another speech about someone else's achievement. Can you go now?"
But then, he paused. His brow furrowed.
Wait... who am I fighting?
His mind scanned through the story.
In the game, Jericho never made it this far. He never entered the mock battle arc.
So...
Who the hell am I up against?
He turned back toward the arena, eyes narrowing.
Matchups were called individually, shown on the floating board only minutes before each fight.
There was no way to know ahead of time.
Jericho exhaled.
"...Crap."
The arena fell into tense silence as the announcer called the next combatants:
"Next battle: Shin Valor versus Clarissa Dorne!"
The crowd roared. Clarissa stepped into the arena confidently, greeted by cheers that were more cautious than enthusiastic, as most students wanted to avoid making an enemy of her.
Shin's entrance was classic, every cliché perfectly placed. He walked calmly, eyes focused, his black coat billowing dramatically in a nonexistent breeze, a determined smirk playing on his lips as if destiny itself had chosen him.
Jericho leaned forward eagerly. He knew exactly how this battle went in Alchemia Tale.
Shin would declare Clarissa's bribery attempt to the entire school, humiliating her. The scene was pivotal, a defining moment for the protagonist, where his character and integrity were shown to all.
Shin took a breath, eyes meeting Clarissa's cold gaze. Jericho watched, counting down internally for Shin's iconic line. But instead of speaking, Shin shifted his stance and lunged.
Jericho's eyes widened.
"Wait, what?"
Clarissa effortlessly sidestepped, the wooden rod in her hand seeming light as a feather.
Shin swung again, faster this time, but she gracefully spun around the strike. Another quick jab, and Clarissa leaned backward just enough for the rod to pass inches from her face.
She danced around Shin's every move, each dodge smoother and more effortless than the last. Murmurs of confusion filled the stands, growing louder with each missed attack.
"Is that Shin? He's supposed to be strong, right?" someone whispered behind Jericho.
"What's going on?" Lena muttered nervously, eyes glued to Shin.
Clarissa smiled confidently. Her heart raced from excitement. This wooden rod crafted by Jericho was incredible.
She moved faster, felt lighter, and was undeniably stronger. She evaded another clumsy strike from Shin and retaliated swiftly, forcing him back.
Shin gritted his teeth, confusion growing in his eyes. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. He was being toyed with.
The arena's mood began to shift. Students murmured disappointedly; some even jeered.
On the protagonists' side, Lena gripped her seat anxiously, while Kaela watched with disbelief. Sylvie's calm expression faltered, eyebrows furrowing in concern, while Leon and Garrick exchanged uneasy glances.
"Well, let's spice this up, shall we?" Clarissa smirked, taking out the bow and arrows she had acquired.
Whispers spread through the stands.
"Since when is Clarissa an archer?" someone shouted incredulously.
"Aren't those this guy's weapons?" another realized aloud.
Gasps and excitement spread quickly. Rumors had already been circulating about Clarissa's mysterious visit to the forest and the weapons she returned with, and thanks to Aiko, everyone knew the only logical conclusion.
"So, Jericho's creations really work?"
Clarissa drew back the bow, aiming confidently.
"Consider yourself part of a little experiment, Shin," she teased. "Let's see just how special these weapons are."
Clarissa drew back the bow, aiming confidently.
"Consider yourself part of a little experiment, Shin," she teased. "Let's see just how special these weapons are."
She released an arrow; it soared impossibly straight and struck Shin squarely in the shoulder. Instead of piercing, the blunt, rounded tip of the arrow delivered a heavy, painful impact that knocked him backward. He staggered, clearly shaken by the force.
Clarissa continued firing, each arrow landing with pinpoint accuracy, leaving bruises rather than wounds but effectively debilitating Shin with sheer pain and force.
The match quickly turned brutal, Shin unable to close the distance or counter the relentless barrage of blunt arrows. Finally, he collapsed to one knee, unable to continue.
"Winner: Clarissa Dorne!"
The arena erupted in shocked applause. Jericho sank back into his seat, stunned. The butterfly effect had just drastically altered the game's plot.