It was now the fourth day of the competition.

The atmosphere in the coliseum was thick with anticipation, the very air buzzing with excitement.

If the first years were unpredictable and the second years methodical, then the third was an entirely different beast.

The third-year students had honed their skills, refined their strategies, and carved their names into the academy’s history. They were the best this academy could offer after the mysterious fourth-year students.

And among them stood legends in the making.

“Today’s the day,” a spectator murmured, leaning forward in their seat. “We finally get to see the real monsters of Originveil in action.”

“Yeah! I’ve been waiting for this since the tournament started,” another chimed in. “The second-year matches yesterday were a complete drag. But today? Today’s going to be insane.”

Talks of the strongest competitors spread like wildfire through the stands.

People knew that the third years were strong, undoubtedly so, but who among them was the best? That was a question yet to be answered.

While every participant had earned their place in the third-year bracket, there were some names that were spoken with reverence, fear, and excitement.

“Varacius, the berserker,” someone muttered, voice filled with awe. “I heard he once took down a salamander alone, barehanded.”

“The president of the Berserker Club?” Another voice joined in. “Of course, that monster would be one of the top contenders. But don’t forget Emily, the sword prodigy. She’s the vice president of the sword club, and her precision is unreal.”

“Johan’s not one to be underestimated either,” a student in a blood-red cloak said, clearly a member of the Blood Club. “He’s the vice president, and his control over blood magic is terrifying. I heard he drained an entire training ground of its energy in seconds once.”

“And then there’s Samir,” an archer from the crowd added. “He’s a walking legend among us. The vice president of the Archery Club—his arrows are said to never miss their mark.”

But as much as these names were being thrown around, there were two that overshadowed all others.

“Aelora and Aerenion,” a whisper passed through the crowd, sending chills down the spines of those who heard it.

The student council was always treated at the best.

There was no reason for it. It was just said to be the best, as they were the ones with the highest authority in the academy.

Aelora is the voice of the student council, known for her wind magic and unparalleled control over aerial combat, and Aerenion, the elven prince and resource manager of the student council, has mastery over elemental magic, making him one of the deadliest third-years.

There was mention of Zahara and Gurrak as well, but the former had withdrawn from the competition, while the latter was said to be useless in combat.

And yet, even with all these names being discussed, there was one that stood above them all. A name that silenced conversations and replaced them with an electric tension.

“Alex.”

He is the Maneater and the vice president of the student council, known for his dominant opening fight during the competition.

“Who do you think he’ll fight today?” Someone asked in a hushed tone.

“Dunno man. I heard the Berserker Club’s president, Varacius, was wishing for him to be matched against Alex.”

“I heard he’s even stronger than the presidents of most clubs.”

“He is,” a voice confirmed. “And that’s what makes this so exciting. The others? They’re powerful, but Alex is… different. He doesn’t just win. He crushes.”

A wave of anticipation spread through the audience as the murmurs grew, speculation running wild about who would face who and how the matches would unfold.

Then, as if on cue, a sudden hush fell over the coliseum as the announcer took their place at the center of the grand stage, voice amplified by magic.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The voice boomed, sending a ripple of excitement through the crowd. “The wait is over! The fourth day of the competition is upon us, and today we witness the clash of titans!”

Cheers erupted, the coliseum shaking under the sheer enthusiasm of the audience.

“This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The strongest of the strong, the third-years of Originveil, will now step onto the battlefield and prove themselves! Let the matches… BEGIN!”

The coliseum roared with anticipation, and the first set of names was announced.

The matches, just like the other matches of the competition, were decided by a lucky draw, and the first unexpectedly turned out to be Gurrak’s.

“Man, I wanted the start to be entertaining.”

“Sigh… why is Gurrak, a non-combatant, participating in the competition anyway?”

“Well, at least his opponent is strong, so the match won’t be long.”

“Yeah, that guy Eric Reeves, although not the strongest, is still in the top 20 students of the third year.”

Such comments could be heard from the crowd as soon as the announcement board, floating up in the sky, showed the images and names of the participants.

Gurrak Gildspire vs. Eric Reeves.

……………..

Inside the side hall for the gathering of participants.

The hall was where all the participants were supposed to be waiting for their turn, so the ones whose names were called out just now were also there, but as soon as their names were displayed, they moved.

The golden-skinned goblin, Gurrak, rose to his feet, stretching slightly before making his way towards the battlefield. His opponent, Eric Reeves, a well-built third-year with a confident smirk, followed suit.

Inside the waiting hall, however, the true storm was brewing.

A towering figure with a massive build and long, maroon hair stood directly facing Alex, his crimson eyes locked onto him with unfiltered intensity.

His presence alone demanded attention, and the other competitors instinctively stepped back, sensing the rising tension between the two.

Alex, seated comfortably with his legs crossed, merely raised an eyebrow at the looming figure. “And you are?”

A visible vein twitched on the giant’s forehead. “Tch. Don’t mess with me, Alex Drakathor. You know exactly who I am.”

Alex tilted his head, his expression one of amused curiosity. “Sorry, but if you’re not someone important, I tend to forget. Care to remind me?”

The onlookers stiffened. A few sharp intakes of breath could be heard. It was clear that Alex was deliberately poking at the beast in front of him.

The giant growled, his massive hands clenching into fists. “Varacius. President of the Berserker Club.”

“Ah, right,” Alex said with a small smirk, snapping his fingers as if recalling something trivial. “The one who’s been sulking ever since his vice president ate dirt on the first day.”

Varacius’ jaw tightened, his glare intensifying. “You humiliated Leon.”

Alex leaned back against his seat, completely unbothered. “Leon humiliated himself. If a club vice president collapses like a sack of bricks in a single exchange, whose fault is that?”

A low growl rumbled in Varacius’ throat, his aura flaring momentarily before he forced himself to calm down. “I don’t care how strong you are, Alex. The people in the student council think they’re untouchable, but you’re just a bunch of conceited fools riding on the academy’s favoritism.”

Varacius was a musclehead, but he knew when and how to act. He knew very well that the moment he attacked Alex outside of the arena, he would be disqualified, so he used words instead.

The guy’s words did cause Aelora and Aerenion, standing behind Alex, to visibly tense up.

The half-sylph’s fingers twitched, a faint breeze picking up around her, while Aerenion’s usually calm demeanor darkened, his sharp elven features twisting into mild irritation.

“You’re talking a lot for someone whose club got embarrassed on the first day,” Aerenion muttered, his golden eyes narrowing.

Aelora, although always shy, now had her lips curled into a slight smirk, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe you should focus on making sure your own club members don’t embarrass themselves instead of barking at Alex.”

Varacius bared his teeth, his hands twitching, ready to strike, but before he could act, Alex let out a small chuckle and raised a hand. “Relax, you two. It’s always entertaining to hear a dog bark.”

Varacius’ eyes flared with rage, but before he could launch into another insult, Alex’s smirk widened.

“How about we settle this properly?” Alex suggested smoothly. “You clearly have something to prove. Let’s make a bet.”

Alex didn’t hate the guy. But he knew what kind of person he was. Varacius was said to care for his subordinates, and Leon, whom he had used as a scapegoat in the opening match, was also one of his subordinates.

Varacius was just the consequence of his actions, and Alex didn’t mind facing it.

Varacius, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes. “What kind of bet?”

“Simple,” Alex said, his voice filled with casual confidence. “You said that the people of the student council had no power, right?”

“Of course,” Varacius replied without a second’s delay, a smirk playing on his lips, making Alex nod.

“What do you think of Gurrak?” Alex asked, pointing at the illusionary board that showed both Gurrak and Eric moving toward the center of the arena.

“He would lose without a doubt.”

Varacius’s reply to Alex’s question was similar to the opinion of everyone else in the stadium, causing Alex’s grin to widen. “Then let’s bet on that. If Gurrak wins, you’ll have to bark four times in the arena, and if he loses, I would do the same. How about it?”

A sudden silence fell over the room.

Several participants watching the exchange had their eyes sharpened, darting between Alex and Varacius, waiting for the berserker’s response.

For a while, Varacius couldn’t understand why Alex would make such a bet.

‘Was Gurrak really that strong?’ Such a thought passed through his head, but feeling that it might be Alex’s trick to make him reject the bet, he leaned forward, his towering frame looming even closer.

“Fine. But don’t come crying when you’re the one barking.”

The next second, however, he felt that he had done wrong by accepting the bet as Alex’s grin widened. “Looking forward to it.”

The atmosphere remained thick with tension for a few more moments before the focus shifted back to the battlefield.

Gurrak and Eric Reeves had taken their positions, and the match was about to begin.

Varacius stared at Gurrak’s form—which was a mess, to be honest—and scoffed, turning away.

There was no way a guy with such messed-up form would win.

Varacius’s confidence returned to him as he sat on his seat with a huff, anticipating the look on Alex’s face when Gurrak lost.

“Enjoy the show while you can, ‘Maneater’. Your time to be eaten is close.”

Alex only chuckled in response, leaning back as his eyes flickered toward the battlefield, already knowing that today would be interesting.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep