The banners of Arcane Academy fluttered beneath the morning sun, enchanted silk shimmering with house crests and noble symbols. The sky above the floating coliseum was crystal clear, a perfect blue canvas for the battles to come.
Thousands of students filled the air-ringed bleachers that floated in concentric circles around the grand arena, buzzing with anticipation. Professors, nobles, and visiting guild scouts sat in elevated booths. Magic crackled in the atmosphere, heavy and vibrant.
Today wasn't just about pride. It was about legacy.
---
[Round 1: Evelyn Starwyn vs Gale Richter]
The barrier dome shimmered as Evelyn entered the arena, her long brown hair tied in a warrior's braid. Her staff glowed faintly, its runes softly pulsing. Across from her stood Gale Richter, a cocky wind caster from Class A, smirking under his silver-fringed hood.
> "Match: Evelyn Starwyn versus Gale Richter—Begin!"
Gale moved first—swift and sharp. He thrust his hand forward, conjuring a flurry of wind blades. They spiraled toward Evelyn like razors riding a hurricane.
> "Too fast—no time for incantations."
Evelyn reacted instinctively.
> "Spirits of the veil—shield me!"
A translucent dome of spirit energy formed just in time, catching the blades with a hiss of pressure.
Gale pressed forward, conjuring a gale-force shockwave to blow her off her feet.
But Evelyn stood her ground.
> "Sylva, I need you."
A glowing green spirit in the shape of a fox exploded from her staff. The fox darted through the wind and slammed into Gale's chest, throwing him back with surprising force.
He skidded across the platform, eyes wide.
Before he could rise, Evelyn whispered:
> "Bind."
Glowing roots erupted from the arena floor, wrapping around Gale's arms and legs. He struggled—but the more he moved, the tighter they pulled.
The referee raised a hand.
> "Match over! Evelyn Starwyn wins!"
The crowd cheered, but Evelyn simply bowed her head, breathing slowly.
> One round down… I can do this.
---
[Round 1: Eris Valenhart vs Aran Duskbane]
Eris walked into the arena wearing her combat coat—black with red trim. Twin enchanted blades rested at her hips. Aran Duskbane, a sneering necromancer's apprentice from Class C, cracked his neck as shadowy claws emerged from the ground around him.
> "You'll scream for mercy, princess."
Eris didn't reply.
She unsheathed her blades, stance low and ready.
> "Begin!"
Dark tendrils shot from Aran's feet like grasping hands.
Eris vanished—leaping high, spinning midair.
> "Flame Pattern: Crimson Bloom!"
Her swords ignited mid-spin, arcing with red fire. She came down like a falling comet, slicing through the shadows in a precise flurry of slashes.
Aran barely had time to cast a barrier—too slow.
She broke it with a burning cross-strike that knocked him across the arena.
The shadows dispersed. He didn't get up.
> "Match over! Eris Valenhart wins!"
She flicked her blades clean of flames and walked off without a word.
---
[Round 2: Lyra Dreamshade vs Roland Seraph]
Roland Seraph stood confidently, his duel gear shimmering with heat runes. A structured and disciplined fire-user.
Lyra floated ten feet above the ground on a lazy wind cushion, chewing a strawberry tart.
> "Do we really have to do this?" she sighed.
> "Begin!"
Roland launched a pillar of compressed flame upward.
Lyra blinked.
A sphere of water shimmered into existence around her, absorbing the fire in a puff of steam.
She flicked her wrist.
The water sphere split into two dozen darts—each glowing blue. With casual grace, she snapped her fingers.
> "Seek."
The darts curved midair, homing in on Roland. He tried to counter with a flame barrier, but the water spears sliced through, striking pressure points across his limbs.
He staggered. Lyra gently levitated him onto a wind cushion.
> "Don't faint. I hate drama."
> "Match over! Lyra Dreamshade wins!"
Back in the waiting room, Evelyn whispered, "She didn't even chant."
Eris muttered, "Lazy witch…"
Lyra smiled, licking tart crumbs from her lips. "You're just jealous."
---
[Round 3: Rael vs Devon Marek]
The arena fell into a hush as Rael stepped in.
No weapons. No glow of mana. Just calm, measured steps.
Devon Marek—tall, wiry, and pulsing with crackling lightning—cracked his neck and grinned.
> "You're the Person who missing in four months, right? Time to fry you."
> "Begin!"
Devon moved fast—electricity surged through his limbs as he shot forward like a thunderbolt. He slashed with a blade of lightning.
Rael stepped to the side. A clean, silent dodge.
Devon launched a second bolt—Rael slapped it aside with his bare palm, redirecting it into the arena floor.
Sparks danced around him.
Devon cursed, switching tactics—using a burst of speed to appear behind Rael.
> "Gotcha!"
Rael ducked under the strike, pivoted, and countered.
> "Your stance leaves your left ribs open."
A sharp elbow drove into Devon's side, followed by a precise roundhouse to the temple.
Devon crumpled.
> "Match over! Rael wins!"
The crowd murmured.
Evelyn clutched her charm.
> He's not using any known style…
Eris narrowed her eyes.
> "He's conserving power. Waiting."
Lyra stretched.
> "Told you he was fun."
---
[Round 4: Raiden Valenhart vs Kars Odenfell]
The final match of the round.
The crowd hushed again as Raiden Valenhart stepped into the arena. He wore a black dueling coat embroidered with silver sword emblems. At his waist: a long, plain blade—no enchantment, no ostentation.
His opponent, Kars Odenfell, was a hulking brute with a warhammer and enchanted stone armor. Earth magic shimmered at his feet.
> "Begin!"
Kars roared, slamming his hammer down. Jagged stone pillars shot up around Raiden—an earthen cage aiming to crush him.
Raiden exhaled softly.
> "First Form: Flowing Fang."
His blade moved in a blur.
He weaved between the spikes like water through cracks, slicing each pillar as he passed. The cage shattered.
Kars swung his hammer, seismic magic rippling.
Raiden stepped just outside the swing's path.
> "Second Form: Severing Gale."
A flash of steel.
Kars froze—armor splitting across his chest.
He fell to one knee.
> "Match over! Raiden Valenhart wins!"
---
[Backstage – Rael's Perspective]
Rael watched Raiden through the scrying crystal.
His blade work was fluid—controlled. Each form named, each movement measured.
> "Sword Saint… huh."
Rael's gaze lingered.
> He's not just strong. He's proud—and precise. But he's still searching for something.
Like me.
Raiden, on the field, paused for a moment—sensing the gaze. He glanced toward the viewing crystal.
Their eyes didn't meet.
But a challenge had been issued.