The long-awaited day had finally arrived.
Since the early hours of the dawn, the Academy grounds had been a swirling vortex of vibrant colors and roaring sounds. Magical banners fluttered high in the autumn wind, and the main thoroughfares were choked with guests arriving from various far-flung kingdoms. High-ranking nobles, wealthy merchant tycoons, and wandering rogue mages—all had converged upon this single location for one identical reason.
The School Festival.
To some, this was mere grand entertainment.
To others, it was a prestigious stage to flaunt national and military might.
And to a select few students… it was a trial that would unequivocally dictate the trajectory of their entire future.
The Academy's Grand Arena
The colossal colosseum had been fully activated. Ancient, colossal magic circles glowed beneath the participants' feet, systematically dividing the battlefield into distinct combat zones. A massive, high-tier artificial barrier hummed overhead, designed to encapsulate the arena and prevent any lethal or permanent injuries to the students.
Up in the VIP balcony, sovereign kings sat upon their respective gilded thrones.
The Sovereign of Everts, King Fedrel Zevienthe, sat perfectly upright, embodying a calm yet absolute authority. Seated gracefully beside him was Princess Clara Zevienthe. Her sweeping, intricately designed gown covered her form flawlessly, and her serene visage calmly observed the chaotic surroundings.
"It is incredibly crowded," Clara murmured softly.
Fedrel offered a thin, protective smile. "The festival is always a boisterous affair. But you are entirely safe as long as you remain by my side, Clara."
Clara nodded elegantly. "Yes, Father."
First-Year Waiting Room
Inside the chamber, the eight qualifying teams had been gathered.
Some individuals practically radiated boundless confidence, grinning arrogantly.
Others looked paralyzed with tension, their hands visibly trembling.
And a few… were far too busy underestimating everyone else.
Reika stood silently in the far corner of the room, leaning casually against the cold stone wall. He kept his eyes lowered, tracking the subtle, rhythmic vibrations of mana radiating from the main arena outside. The magical pattern was stable, but the sheer atmospheric pressure from tens of thousands of cheering spectators was a palpable weight in the room.
Zian paced back and forth restlessly. "Seriously... this feels completely different from our practice sessions."
Alisa took a long, stabilizing breath, tightening the straps on her armor. "Calm down, Zian. We've done the work. We are ready."
Reika slowly opened his eyes, his gaze steady. "Don't let your emotions getbaited. Just focus entirely on what we practiced under Brother Wiz."
Alisa turned her head toward him, a faint, appreciative smile breaking through her anxiety. "You always say that."
"Because it is the only thing that matters," Reika replied softly.
The Commentator's Booth
Two figures stood atop a suspended platform overlooking the edge of the battlefield.
"Hello, everyone!" a brown-haired man roared into a voice-amplifying magic tool, his voice instantly carrying across the stands. "Welcome to the Heero Academy Annual School Festival!"
The crowd erupted into an earth-shattering cheer.
"I am Lian Hart, and I will be your primary commentator for today's festivities!"
Standing right beside him was a young man possessing a composed, fiercely confident demeanor. "And I am Kei Barnet, champion of the inaugural Fahne Rush."
Note: The Fahne Rush is a prestigious international tournament where academy students from various nations clash to capture the most flags. The team that secures the highest number of flags is crowned the absolute victor.
Another wave of thunderous applause rocked the stadium.
"The first-year tournament is about to commence!" Hart continued with burning enthusiasm. "Only eight elite teams will be competing today, and only the absolute best will advance to the next stage!"
Barnet nodded in agreement. "This year's lineup is fascinating. We have some incredibly potent team compositions."
"In fact," Hart smirked, his eyes scanning the roster, "we might already have a definitive championship candidate right from the opening match."
As the names began to be announced over the loudspeakers, a few students in the waiting room smiled with smug satisfaction. Others clenched their fists in determination. And some—like Reika—didn't offer a single reaction.
The Waiting Room — Moments Before the Match
Alisa's team had been drawn to fight in the second half of the bracket.
Not far from them stood Ovel, who cast a mocking, sidelong glance in their direction. "Well, if it isn't the trash squad."
Alisa hoisted her chin high, her eyes narrowing. "You certainly talk a big game for someone who hasn't stepped onto the field yet."
Ovel scoffed derisively. "I'm just being a realist. Low-born nobles and commoner filth should learn their proper place in the hierarchy."
Reika kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. He didn't show anger. He didn't offer a retort.
However, for a split second, the air immediately surrounding his body plummeted into a biting, freezing chill.
Zian swallowed hard, feeling the sudden drop in temperature. "...Rei."
"Ignore him," Reika commanded flatly. "Let your actions do the talking in the arena."
Outside, the roar of the crowd shook the very foundations of the building. The first match was being called. The young lords had been summoned to the arena floor.
The First Match: Thoe Alastrina & Dean Bron vs. Jack Taren
"THE FIRST MATCH BEGINS NOW!"
The stadium erupted as the two teams marched out from the dark tunnels into the blinding sunlight of the arena.
Standing on the western side was Jack Taren, a dark-haired youth donning the prestigious crest of the Taren family—the highest-ranking noble house of the Sararin Kingdom. Behind him, his three teammates braced themselves, their expressions tense.
Jack let out a sharp breath. "Damn it... drawing two princes right out of the gate."
On the eastern side, Thoe Alastrina strode forward with a predatory, brimming smile. A violent aura of heat shimmered around his silhouette, his reddish-gold mana crackling like live embers. The air around him distorted and rippled, as if being superheated from within.
Beside him stood Dean Bron, his physique towering and rock-solid. Heavy ripples of mana pulsed beneath his boots, anchoring his presence directly into the bedrock of the arena.
"It seems we won't be needing much time for this," Dean remarked casually. "Am I right, Third Prince?"
Thoe gave a swift, ruthless nod. "End it quickly."
From the center of the stadium, Hart raised his hand high. "MATCH... START!"
Jack immediately bellowed an order. "Defensive formation! Do not let them bait you out!"
But Thoe was already gone.
BRAAAASH!
A violent explosion of fire erupted beneath Thoe's soles, propelling his body forward with brutal, terrifying velocity. A scorching trail of incinerated earth followed his trajectory, leaving a smoking black trench in the stone.
"What—?!"
A member of the Taren team reflexively stumbled backward. Before his magical barrier could even fully materialize, the backdraft of intense heat slammed into his face, completely shattering his concentration.
"Frontal assault!" Jack screamed. "Deploy Fire—!"
Before the incantation could be completed—
DUUUM!!
Dean slammed his massive fist directly into the ground.
The arena floor ruptured violently from below. Massive, jagged fissures tore through the stone like stone veins. Towering pillars of earth jutted upward without warning, smashing directly into the Taren line and obliterating their defensive formation in a single, unified shockwave.
"Incredible...!" Barnet muttered from the commentator's booth, leaning over the railing. "The coordination between fire and earth is flawless—they aren't giving them a single second to breathe!"
Jack was thrown through the air, rolling violently across the dirt before scrambling back to his feet. He poured every ounce of his remaining mana into his blade. "I won't go down this easily!"
He leaped forward, unleashing a crescent arc of golden light laced with flames directly at Thoe.
Thoe didn't even flinch. He merely raised a single hand.
"Extinguish."
The incoming magical slash was instantaneously swallowed by a significantly larger, swirling vortex of pure heat. A microsecond later, it exploded backward in a compressed stream of counter-flames, completely dissipating Jack's attack before it could even come close.
Jack's eyes widened in sheer horror. "Impossible—!"
With a sudden burst of speed, Thoe manifested right in front of his face. His palm glowed blindingly bright.
BOOOM!!
A concentrated blast of explosive fire slammed directly into Jack's chest, launching him backward like a cannonball. Jack skidded across the broken stone, lying completely motionless.
A stunned silence gripped the stadium for a fraction of a second—
And then, the colosseum absolutely exploded into deafening cheers.
"ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR!" Hart roared into his amplifier. "THE MATCH IS OVER! A TOTAL, UNCONTESTED VICTORY FOR THE TEAM OF THOE ALASTRINA AND DEAN BRON!"
The VIP Balcony
King Bron let out a low, booming laugh. "Swift and clean. Truly magnificent, wouldn't you agree?"
King Fedrel nodded slowly, his analytical eyes narrowing. "Fire utilized as the ultimate spear, while Earth acts as the perfect lock and shield. There isn't a single opening in their strategy."
Beside him, Clara continued to stare down at the smoking arena, her expression completely unreadable and detached.
The Participant Waiting Room
Zian swallowed hard, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck. "...What the hell was that? They're terrifyingly strong!"
Alisa clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white. "So that is the level of the championship favorites."
Reika remained silent.
He didn't look at the arena with awe or fear; instead, his gaze was remarkably cold and calculating.
"If they are that powerful," Reika spoke softly, his voice cutting through the panic of his teammates, "then it simply means we cannot afford to make a single misstep."
Alisa turned to look at him, the tension leaving her shoulders as a sharp, confident smile returned to her face. "Good. I was thinking the exact same thing."
In the distance, Hart's booming voice echoed through the stadium gates once more:
"NEXT MATCH—TIM ALISA BARLEY VS. DRANA OVEL!"
The roaring cheers of the audience shook the arena walls once more.