Chapter 222: Chapter 222: Balthor Returns

The roar of the crowd was overwhelming.

More than fifty thousand people filled the arena seats—rows of carved stone and polished platforms that stretched up the walls of the massive cavern. Banners representing the four academies floated overhead, enchanted to ripple gently despite the lack of wind.

Magical screens hovered above the field, projecting enhanced views of the battlefield below, powered by glowing mana conduits embedded deep into the stone.

A man floated to the center platform—tall, dressed in robes of deep blue trimmed with silver. His voice, amplified through a magical array, echoed through every corner of the arena.

“Welcome, citizens of Tharvaldur and honored guests from across Vaelterra!”

“Today begins the Grand Inter-Academy Tournament!”

The cheers shook the walls.

“Before we begin, a quick reminder of the rules. Each student has been given a personal protection artifact. It will activate automatically in case of unconsciousness or life-threatening injury. You fight until one side yields or is knocked out.”

A rune below the announcer pulsed brightly as he spoke.

“The winner advances. The loser is eliminated.”

Noel stood in one of the wide stone hallways that opened onto the stands. From where he was, he could see almost the entire arena. The energy in the air was heavy—excitement, nerves, tension.

He glanced toward the battlefield.

The first match was about to start.

Velmora vs. Tharvaldur.

’Figures they’d open with one of their own,’ he thought, arms crossed. ’Probably one of their best. Gotta keep the crowd happy.’

The two students were stepping onto the platform now. Their names echoed through the air, but Noel didn’t catch them. He was too focused on the layout, on how the runes around the arena pulsed in sync with the match timer.

The announcer floated away. The crowd hushed.

The duel began.

Noel walked up the steps into the public seating area, choosing a spot a bit off to the side—not too close to the center, but still with a good view of the field. He sat down just as the two students began circling each other on the platform.

The arena crowd was already reacting—cheers, groans, calls from all sides. Despite the size of the place, the sound of boots on stone, spells being cast, and clashing mana was still clear.

Noel rested his elbows on his knees, watching quietly.

Then a voice boomed out just to his right.

“No, no, no! Step to the left, kid, not into the damn fire rune!”

Noel blinked.

He turned his head slowly.

Sitting right next to him was a familiar figure—a short, broad-shouldered dwarf with wild red hair and a massive red beard. His eyes were locked on the fight, his arms crossed, and his expression full of frustration.

“Balthor?”

The dwarf looked over at him with a wide grin, like he’d just run into an old friend at a tavern.

“Oh hey, blondie! You finally made it to the big stage, huh?”

Noel stared for a second, then shook his head.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Noel slid back into his seat, still looking sideways at Balthor.

“I thought we were coming here together.”

Balthor shrugged, eyes still locked on the match below.

“Yeah, well… I got here early. Couldn’t sit around waiting anymore. Figured I’d make myself useful.”

“Did you find your brother?”

Balthor’s expression tensed for a second. He scratched at his beard.

“No. Traced a few rumors, but nothing solid. Eventually figured I was just wasting time. So I gave up—at least for now.”

Noel didn’t press further.

Balthor leaned forward slightly, grin returning.

“But then I heard about this little event here. Big crowds. Plenty of action. And more importantly—bets.”

Noel raised an eyebrow.

“Bets? We weren’t told anything about that.”

Balthor chuckled, lowering his voice.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point. It’s not exactly official. There are two types—public bets anyone can join, small stuff. And then there’s the private ones. For people with coin. Serious coin.”

Noel leaned back slightly, frowning.

“Of course there are.”

“Come on, blondie. You’re telling me no one told you? You’re in this tournament and they didn’t even mention the side business?”

Noel looked toward the field again, watching the fight unfold.

“Nope. Not a word.”

Noel’s tone was flat as he kept his eyes on the fight, but his mind was already shifting gears. If there really were hidden bets going on, someone stood to gain a lot more than just prestige.

But he didn’t have time to think about that now.

One of the students on the field fell backward, their body glowing faintly as the protection artifact kicked in. The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena again, calling the winner.

The next match was announced, then the one after.

Noel stood up and gave Balthor a nod.

“I’ll see you later.”

Balthor waved him off with a grin.

“Don’t disappoint and try not to embarrass yourself. I’ve got money riding on you now.”

Noel didn’t answer.

He walked down the side corridor toward the waiting area, where the next batch of fighters were gathering. The energy was different there—quieter, tense. Focused.

He stepped into the hallway, pulled his gloves tighter, and took a slow breath.

His name had already appeared on the floating bracket at the center of the arena.

“Next Match: Noel Thorne vs. Varian Kraxus.”

He moved through the corridor toward the waiting zone. Several staff members waved him through, confirming his name. The tension shifted immediately—no more noise, just the pressure of what was coming.

Then, from the center of the arena, the announcer’s voice boomed once again, echoed by runes along the walls:

“Next Match!”

“From the continent of Valor, representing the Imperial Academy—second-year student Noel Thorne!”

Cheers erupted across the stands. Noel stepped out into the light, the sheer size of the crowd finally hitting him full force. But over the general noise, he picked up a clear voice screaming:

“GO NOEL!!”

He glanced briefly toward the direction it came from.

Charlotte stood near the front row, unmistakable even in a crowd—Sancta Veil activated, her long red hair glowing like fire under the arena lights, hazel eyes locked on him with an absurd amount of energy. Beside her were Elyra and Elena, both clapping, far less loud, but clearly present.

He blinked once.

Then the announcer continued.

“And from the Demonlands of Velmora… one of their Top Ten students—Varian Kraxus!”

Another cheer burst through the arena—strong, but not as loud as the one before.

From the opposite tunnel, Varian stepped into view. Black uniform with deep crimson trim, tall, lean build, grayish-red skin and two small, curved horns pushing back from his temples. His eyes were yellow and sharp, with a smirk already forming as he looked across at Noel.

He cracked his neck once and walked until he stood across from him on the platform.

Then he pointed—casual, almost lazy—toward the section where Charlotte, Elyra, and Elena were watching.

“Those your fans?” He tilted his head. “Pretty bold of you to bring them here… You really think they’d still cheer for you after they see me in action?”

Noel didn’t say a word.

But a single vein on his forehead twitched.

The announcer raised his arm.

“Fight!”

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