The dust still hung in the air as Leon and Finn stepped forward, against the scorched arena floor. Across from them stood Gareth and his last remaining lackey, two of them clearly breathless, but still clinging to whatever pride they had left.

Gareth’s eyes burned with fury. “You’ll regret this humiliation.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “You’re still talking?”

Finn cracked his knuckles with a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Less whining, more fighting.”

Without another word, the teams split. Gareth lunged at Leon, fire igniting in his palms, while his lackey, a burly kid with a square jaw and bulky frame, charged toward Finn, mana swirling around his fists.

The battlefield split into two duels.

…

Gareth didn’t waste time. He raised both hands and hurled a trio of fireballs at Leon.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Leon’s body glimmered faintly, and the fireballs splashed harmlessly against a barrier of light that flickered around him.

He dusted an imaginary speck off his shoulder. “You really should’ve brought better firewood.”

Gareth growled and fired a Mana Bullet. Leon deflected it effortlessly with a thin blade of light that formed at his fingertips, cutting the attack in half mid-air.

“Well,” Leon said, his tone almost bored. “Is that all you got?”

With a flick of his wrist, light pulsed from his palm and morphed into a spear. He hurled it, just wide enough to graze Gareth’s shoulder, deliberately missing the center mass.

Gareth yelped, stumbling back.

Leon closed the distance in a blink, using ‘Light Step’ to move like a flash of light. He appeared behind Gareth, palm glowing.

“Flare Bind.”

Ribbons of light wrapped around Gareth’s limbs like chains, pinning him in place.

“You…!” Gareth spat, struggling.

Leon crouched beside him, voice cool and unhurried. “If I wanted to finish this, you’d already be unconscious.”

“Are you toying with me!?”

Leon gave a one-shouldered shrug. “A little maybe. But mostly, you’re just not worth the effort.” He tapped Gareth’s forehead with two fingers.

“Sleep.”

With a soft flash, Gareth collapsed backward, bound in light, groaning.

…

Meanwhile, Finn’s fight was a bit louder.

The earth mage slammed his fists into the ground, sending jagged spikes of stone bursting upward.

Finn leapt into the air, flipping effortlessly as blades of wind sliced through the rising pillars.

“Hey!” Finn shouted midair, grinning. “You trying to skewer me or sculpt the arena?”

His opponent didn’t answer. Instead, he sent a barrage of ‘Mana Bullets’ at Finn mid-leap.

Finn spun, cloaking himself in a cyclone of wind. The bullets deflected off, shooting into the sky like sparks from a forge.

He landed on a nearby ledge and pressed both palms forward.

“Wind Cutter!”

A barrage of razor-sharp wind blades shot out, slicing through the ground and forcing the earth mage to dive for cover.

Finn kept moving, never staying in one place. He dashed with wind-enhanced speed, launching gusts of wind blasts and blades in quick succession.

The earth mage tried to trap him with crumbling walls and falling rocks, but Finn danced through them like a leaf in a storm.

“Alright,” Finn said, suddenly stopping mid-charge. “This is fun and all, but I’ve got lunch plans.”

He held both hands above his head.

“Tempest Coil!”

A vortex of wind spiraled from his body, wrapping around the enemy like a miniature hurricane.

The boy screamed as the wind spun him off his feet and flung him across the arena with a controlled blast, knocking him clean out.

Finn wiped his brow. “Phew. Now that’s how you blow away the competition.”

As the dust settled, cheers erupted from the crowd.

Finn and Leon regrouped, standing tall over their unconscious opponents. Leon looked around to see if anyone else was trying to target them, while Finn flexed theatrically to the roaring spectators.

Arthur gave them both a thumbs up from a distance, a small smirk on his lips.

Leon glanced sideways at Finn. “Showoff.”

Finn grinned. “You love it.”

And with that, the two turned back toward the center of the battlefield, one fight down, but many more to come.

…

Up above the chaos of the fighting arena, inside a lavishly decorated private box draped in gold-trimmed banners, a group of nobles sipped from their goblets and watched the first-year matches unfold through the projections.

A middle-aged man with neatly combed silver hair and a sharp, hawk-like gaze leaned forward, swirling the wine in his glass with mild amusement. The insignia of House Velorin present on the ring at his finger.

“Well,” he said, just loud enough to carry across the seating area, “looks like young Gareth is already out of the game.”

Viscount Cassimir Valtros didn’t respond immediately, he was the patriarch of House Valtros and Gareth’s father. He sat with perfect posture, his crimson robes untouched by a single crease. His jaw clenched ever so slightly, but his face remained a mask of politeness.

“They’re just children,” Cassimir said with a faint smile, his voice calm. “They have more time to grow.”

The noble from House Velorin hid his smirk behind his cup. “Yes… of course,” he said in a voice laced with insincerity. “They still have so much potential.”

From the opposite end of the box, another noble, a heavy-set man from House Bahram, chuckled quietly under his breath.

“You’d think with all that training, the Valtros heir would put up more of a fight,” he said. “But I suppose not every noble tree bears good fruit.”

Cassimir’s fingers tightened around the stem of his goblet, but his expression remained neutral. He simply turned his gaze back to the battlefield as if the comment hadn’t even reached his ears.

A few chairs over, a much younger noblewoman from House Rosewood leaned toward her father, whispering behind her fan.

“Who’s that black-haired boy that’s fighting with the wind mage? He’s the one who cast those strange exploding spells.”

“Arthur Sully,” her father answered without looking away from the fight. “A commoner… supposedly. Though more than a few rumors say otherwise.”

“Hm. Impressive,” she murmured.

Across the arena in another luxury box draped in the blue and silver colors of Velcrest Academy, a pair of instructors stood beside a seated figure draped in heavy ceremonial robes. Elder Reinhardt, the stoic man who had once tested Arthur’s mana talent and gifted him a mana circulation manual, observed the battles silently. His silver eyebrows twitched only once as the mana bombs erupted across the field, scattering opponents like dry leaves in a storm.

He stroked his beard, eyes tracking Arthur’s form as he moved with precision and control.

“The boy has grown quite a lot,” Reinhardt muttered with a smile.

The instructor beside him nodded slowly, making a mental note of Arthur’s techniques. Not many first-years used strategic spells like that, and fewer still used them to such devastating psychological effect.

“He has grown strong.” From the side, instructor Garrick said somewhat proudly seeing Arthur’s performance.

…

Meanwhile, on the battlefield…

Near the opposite edge of the arena, another storm was brewing, this one wrapped in ivy and frost.

Eva was already at the third circle which can be seen by the way she was dominating her fights. She stood at the heart of a battle cluster, her brow furrowed in sharp concentration. Vines surged from the cracked stone at her feet, wrapping around the ankles and wrists of her opponents with brutal speed. 

She moved like a general, issuing silent commands with hand gestures and glances.

Natalya stood at her left flank, arcs of frost leaping from her fingertips. Shards of ice spun like daggers around her, crashing into shields and freezing limbs mid-attack. 

Sophia, newly advanced to Second Circle, had taken the high ground. Gusts of wind gathered around her arms as she flung sweeping waves of force down at approaching students, knocking them off balance or into Eva’s traps.

The three of them moved with synergy. Opponents who tried to rush them were repelled almost immediately. Those who held back found themselves buried in vines, their spells interrupted or deflected by coordinated counters.

Their group had become one of the centers of attention in the battlefield, wherever they moved, students either got out of their way or prepared for a real fight.

Eva’s control over both earth and plant magic was razor-sharp, and she didn’t waste motion. Every flick of her wrist caused the terrain to shift in her favor. Rocks turned to shields. roots blocked spells. Her presence on the battlefield was glaring to say the least.

Above the field, the magical projections in the sky zoomed in on their battle for a moment, flashing their names and magic affinities across the enchanted display.

As soon as their names were displayed, cheers erupted. The crowd had found another team to root for.

…

Back in the opulence of the luxury viewing boxes.

Cassimir Valtros, still composed despite his earlier embarrassment, took another measured sip of his wine. His gaze drifted lazily toward the noble seated just across from him, the man from House Velorin, who had jabbed him moments ago.

Cassimir’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

“Isn’t that the girl your house abandoned?” he asked, his voice smooth, but sharp as a knife. He gestured toward the magical projection overhead, which now zoomed in on Eva’s team dominating the field and pointing towards Natalya. “Look at her. Becoming the center of attention.”

The noble from House Velorin stiffened. His fingers clenched tightly around his goblet. He didn’t even look at the screen. “That is our family’s matter,” he said tightly. “You don’t need to concern yourself with it.”

Cassimir gave a low, amused hum. “Of course.” He leaned back, clearly pleased with the discomfort he’d stirred. “Family matters do tend to fester when not addressed properly.”

The noble gritted his teeth but said nothing more.

A few seats over, in a quieter corner of the same box, the young noblewoman from House Rosewood was watching with open admiration. Her eyes sparkled as the projection flicked between Eva’s fluid control of plant and earth magic and the battlefield coordination between her team.

“As expected of the heir of House Rosewood,” she said, a trace of pride in her voice.

Her father, a tall, wiry man with a hawkish nose and deep-set eyes, inclined his head. “Hmm… Madame Irene would be proud to see her legacy carrying on like this,” he murmured. 

Across the arena in the main academy box, where the instructors and key figures of Velcrest sat observing their students, the mood was shifting from optimism to something bordering on excitement.

Principal Aldric, a tall man with broad shoulders, leaned forward in his seat as the floating projection split between Arthur’s battlefield and Eva’s. His thick silver brows arched as he took in the unfolding scenes.

“This year,” Aldric said slowly, his voice tinged with something resembling satisfaction, “we’ve got quite a few promising candidates. We might finally secure a better position in the Dominion Ring.”

Professor Elaine, standing just a few steps behind him, nodded in agreement. She adjusted her glasses and looked at Arthur’s display, mana detonating in measured bursts as he disabled his next wave of opponents.

“Yes, Principal,” she said. “And that boy, Arthur. He doesn’t even have an affinity. But he’s grown rapidly, even since the entrance exams. It’s astonishing.”

The principal raised a brow. “No affinity?”

“That’s correct. His mana showed no elemental alignment. But his control… it’s textbook perfect. And he’s a dual practitioner of mana and chi.”

“Oh… is that so?” Aldric mused, his tone intrigued as he leaned further forward.

The projection shifted again, this time focusing on Arthur dashing through a trio of spell blasts, dodging with fluid, practiced movements. His counterattack came in the form of a compressed Mana Bullet followed by a palm strike that sent his attacker tumbling across the field.

Aldric’s eyes narrowed as he studied Arthur more closely. “He’s quite powerful,”

A grin tugged at the edge of his lips.

“We really might have a shot at winning the tournament this year,” he said aloud.

The instructors surrounding him exchanged glances, their nods coming slowly, one after another.

“Yes, sir,” Instructor Garrick added, arms crossed. “And with Eva Rosewood leading her team the way she is, we’ve got two front-runners already.”

“And let’s not forget Leon and Finn,” Professor Elaine said. “One has a White talent and light affinity, the other though only has a Green talent is not far behind. They may not have noble backgrounds, but their teamwork is phenomenal.”

“Talent, power, strategy, and teamwork,” Aldric said, standing slowly from his seat. “Finally… a year that shows true promise.”

He looked out at the field, hands behind his back, the excitement in his eyes masked beneath the calm demeanor.

“Let’s see who makes it to the top.”

***

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