Day Two of the Sword & Mage Tournament dawned bright and roaring with energy. The arena was already overflowing with as twice the number of spectators from the day before. Word had spread like wildfire across Avarice: the fights weren't just impressive; they were unlike anything the city had ever witnessed. People poured in from every direction, eager to feel the rush of magic and steel clashing under the open sky.
2 sprinted across the tournament grounds, weaving past vendors and excited fans as he headed for the activation booth. He needed another seal, his cheaper ones from yesterday had already burnt out.
"Hey, young man!" a warm voice called.
He turned to see an elderly lady behind the counter, her face creased with a kind smile.
"You're competing, right? I watched your match yesterday. Really special… it was captivating. Good luck out there."
"Thank you," 2 replied, giving her a quick tip before jogging off.
"Inventory," he muttered.
In an instant, the seals vanished from his hands and slipped into the shimmering subspace only he could access. The ability worked like a miniature pocket dimension, similar to the Chamber of Time, but limited only to items equal to or below his body weight. Once full, it refused to take anything else. Still, for now, it was enough.
"Necromancy."
A cold whisper brushed the air behind him.
Before he could even turn, a hand tapped his back—flames swallowed him whole, attempting turning his body to ash.
Halfway through the burning, the "body" burst into smoke.
"A clone?" the intruder murmured, purple eyes narrowing. "But its mana… it felt completely real. Unless…"
The thought seemed too ridiculous even for him.
"…it was a clone. With that much mana? Incredible. How much power does the real one possess?"
Wearing the Avarice High instructors' uniform, the man vanished into thin air.
"Ladies and gentlemen, swordsmen and swordswomen, mages—welcome to Day Two of the Swords and Magic Tournament!"
The announcer's booming voice sent the crowd into a frenzy. The entire stadium seemed to vibrate with the roar—like thunder trapped under a dome.
"I know you're all hyped, but don't bring the arena down or blow my eardrums out—I've only got two!"
Laughter rippled through the stands.
"It's a pity some of you missed yesterday's matches. Truly unforgettable. For those who watched, you know the mages are leading five to three… which means—"
He raised his hand dramatically, letting the crowd finish for him.
"PANDOT! PANDOT! PANDOT!"
The chant shook the sky until he lowered his hand, silencing them instantly.
A white box materialized beside him. He reached inside, pulling out an envelope.
"The swordsmen have selected Kevin Dominic as their representative against…"
Two slips fluttered upward as he plucked them.
"…Ren Alphonsus and Judas Carlotis!"
The stadium exploded with excitement—cheers, flags, bursts of colored light.
"And for the next matches," he continued, drawing more slips, "we have Jayden Reginald vs. Levi Henso—and lastly, Nadia Samir vs. Simon Zain! We decided to call out the contestants time to prepare. Contestants, prepare yourselves."
With a swirl of smoke, the announcer vanished.
"Normally I'd feel bad for the swordsman facing these two but it's IQ magic" Luke muttered, tugging his collar aside to reveal a mostly healed, but still visible scar running from his neck down his chest. "And honestly? Knowing the last user… I can't place any bets."
"I keep hearing about IQ magic from veteran knights," Kyrian said. "Even the principal showed me a scar from one of its users. Why is everyone terrified of it?"
Luke sighed.
"You wouldn't know, boy. People rarely talk about him, nobody really has any good memories of the past IQ magic user. IQ magic grants inhumane intellect, prediction, and skill—the accumulated memories of every previous user stored in one mind and currently it was stored here."
As he spoke, old memories flickered in his eyes. Painful ones.
"The last wielder… Zonik Risha. A psychopath obsessed with being a legend. He wanted to leave a mark, literally, on everyone he fought. Found a special herb that, when mixed with his weapon, made any wound scar permanent. No healing technique could erase it."
Luke unbuttoned part of his robe, revealing the long vertical scar across his chest.
"I remember what he told me while I lay bleeding in the rain, my bllod and the rain pouring down my body… barely breathing. He knelt beside me and whispered:
' I'm keeping you alive to be a testimony, nothing else. Every morning when you shower, you'll see this scar and think of me. Even when you lay with your wife, it's me who'll be on your mind,not her.
For as long as you live, my name and memory will be forever engraved not only on your body but in your mind as well. If you survive, it proves you're worthy of carrying my mark. If you die… you were never legendary enough to carry my mark in the first place.'
"Then he walked away. A year later, the king and I along with other knights finally managed to kill him. He was that strong. I won't lie, he was right, I still think of him every time. "
Luke chuckled bitterly.
"Funny, isn't it? He left victims alive just to spread his legend, in the end, he got what he wanted."
"We're alive because of it," King Clenor added quietly.
"Let's see what his successor can do."
Kevin was heading down from the swordsmans' balcony when Amy grabbed his wrist.
"What now, Amy? I'll be late if you keep slowing me down."
His icy blue eyes focused on her intently.
"Just… when you win, show some sportsmanship, please. People haven't forgotten what Zonik did. Don't fuel the fear. Please? For me, at least?"
Her pink eyes met his pleadingly.
Kevin exhaled sharply.
"I really couldn't care less what people think, or even about my opponents. But… fine. Since you're asking, I'll try."
His eyes softened for just a moment as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
Then, turning to his teammates, the warmth vanished instantly.
"Simon. Levi. I won't tolerate any losses today. Don't underestimate them. Go all out and win."
He walked off, cold and unreadable.
Kevin stepped into the arena, katana in hand. The strange blade gleamed with a faint, unnatural bluish aura. His simple white robe fluttered slightly in the wind, but his stance remained still, confident, bordering on dismissive.
"Where's Jayden?" Ren complained as he and Judas entered. "Shame he'll miss watching us beat this guy down."
"I'll support, you attack," Judas whispered.
"Then we fry him," Ren smirked.
They fist bumped and marched forward.
Fireworks burst overhead—brilliant blues, reds, and greens raining over the arena like magical stars, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
Both pairs passed through the scanning field—magic rippling around them—before taking their positions. The four stood arranged like points of a triangle, tension thick enough to taste.
"They're analyzing me, well only that Ren guy though" Kevin thought, feeling their mana shift. "Good. They'll need it. Because if not they might get seriously hurt."
His glasses glowed as blue light flared behind them. The blade hummed with mana as he stretched it forward.
" I'll show you the real power of a swordsman. Let's end this quickly."