The official's knock shattered the tense silence that had filled those endless ten minutes.
He opened the door, gesturing for them to come out. "This way," he said, pointing toward the exit that led to the arena gate. "Good luck. Very brave of you, especially the two unstable." He paused, then added, "Try to show what you can do before it's over. At least it'll look good on your performances."
Vel appreciated the honesty, even the encouragement, but he had no intention of losing. Not when everything was on the line.
Celia's future at the Academy depended on this—Caldwen had disowned her, and with enemies like him and Lysithea watching, a poor showing would give them exactly what they wanted.
Tomas had worked hard to believe in his own abilities, to prove unstable students weren't the flawed casters everyone assumed them to be.
And Lyvenna's entire career hung in the balance, her position at the Academy threatened simply for believing in them.
He exchanged a quick glance with Celia, whose eyes reflected the same determination he felt.
They walked to the gate where another official stopped them with a raised hand. "Wait for the host's announcement."
Standing just inside the shadowed tunnel, they could hear everything clearly. The crowd's murmur rolled like distant thunder across the arena, punctuated by occasional shouts and laughter.
Janos Verterre's voice suddenly boomed across the coliseum. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! OUR NEXT MATCH BRINGS SOMETHING TRULY UNPRECEDENTED TO THE TERNION TOURNAMENT!"
Vel felt his heart hammering against his ribs. The weight of what they were about to do settled fully on his shoulders.
"A RARE SIGHT IN THE TERNION TOURNAMENT—UNSTABLE ATTUNEMENT STUDENTS COMPETING IN THE DUELING BRACKET!" The crowd's reaction was mixed—some cheers, some murmurs, and a few audible jeers. "TEAM NOVALANCE FEATURES NOT ONE BUT TWO UNSTABLE CASTERS ALONGSIDE A STANDARD CLASS DUELIST! AN UNCONVENTIONAL TEAM CROSSING CLASS BOUNDARIES—WILL WE WITNESS SOMETHING UNEXPECTED, OR WILL THINGS UNFOLD AS MANY PREDICT?"
Janos continued with introductions of both teams, but Vel barely registered the words. He was too focused on controlling his breathing, centering himself.
"PLEASE WELCOME BOTH TEAMS TO THE ARENA!"
The official gestured them forward with a nod. "That's your cue."
Vel led his team from the cool shade into the bright light of the arena. The sunlight momentarily blinded him, and the crowd's roar pressed against his ears. As his eyes adjusted, Vel looked up at the Primodial statues lining the arena walls. They seemed bigger than ever, their stone gazes bearing down on the competitors below.
The sand shifted beneath his boots as he walked forward. From their position at the west gate, Vel could see their opponents emerging from the east entrance.
"They look prepared," Tomas whispered, his voice barely audible over the crowd.
Vel assessed their opponents quickly. The leader carried a falchion and buckler, the curved blade spinning in his hand as he tested its weight. Behind him stood a mage with an ornate staff, its top embedded with a glowing crystal. The third opponent—a dual-wielder—twirled both short swords in opposite directions, showing off.
"Remember the plan," Vel said, keeping his voice steady despite the flutter in his stomach. "Don't show everything at once."
From the stands, mockery rained down like arrows.
"Hey, unstable! Try not to blow yourselves up!"
"Which gate should we watch for their retreat?"
"Five silver says they don't last two minutes!"
Celia's jaw tightened, but she kept her eyes forward, saying nothing.
Vel nodded, trying to block out the jeers. He caught sight of Instructor Lyvenna in the stands, her expression unreadable but her eyes fixed intently on their team. Several rows behind her sat Archmagister Elyssia alongside representatives from each faction, observing with clinical interest.
The dual-wielder across the arena pointed one blade at them and made a slashing motion across his throat. His teammates laughed, exuding confidence.
An official stepped forward, gesturing both teams to their starting positions. Vel, Celia, and Tomas moved into formation—their practiced triangle. Across the sand, their opponents took a reversed formation, the two melee fighters spreading wide at the front with their caster behind.
The official raised his hand, scanning both teams one final time. Then he stepped back, clearing the field.
The arena fell quiet. Even the jeering crowd held their breath.
"LET THE MATCH BEGIN!" Janos's voice thundered across the arena as a bell rang out.
Celia launched forward, rapier already extended. Both the buckler-wielder and dual-wielder charged directly at her.
The dual-wielder struck first, both blades slashing in rapid succession. Celia parried the first strike and ducked under the second. The buckler-wielder tried to circle behind her, forcing her to pivot and keep both opponents visible.
"They're ignoring us," Tomas whispered, his voice a mixture of relief and confusion.
Vel narrowed his eyes, watching their opponents' movements. There weren't many opening moves they could make. Either try to take out Celia early, leaving two unstable students behind, or go for Tomas—which Celia would intercept anyway. Even if they came for him, despite being branded unstable, his sword skills wouldn't make him an easy target.
The plan wasn't to beat them in pure swordplay. Not at the beginning, at least.
Vel turned to Tomas. "Good. Stick to the plan."
Tomas nodded, then slowly began moving away from his position.
Across the arena, the staff user had already begun weaving a spell, her hands tracing glowing patterns in the air. The crystal atop her staff pulsed with gathering energy.
Celia's footwork was impeccable as she danced away from the first attack, her speed and agility allowing her to avoid both opponents. Still, Vel could see the concentration on her face—facing two opponents simultaneously required perfect timing.
Vel extended his arm toward Celia. "Ventis Passus Ethrium!" he called out, channeling a supportive enhancement.
A shimmer of pale blue light enveloped Celia's legs momentarily before fading into her body. Her movements immediately became lighter, more fluid, as the spell took effect.
"Tomas, remember the "element" we discussed?" Vel said.
Tomas nodded, then continued to move counter-clockwise along the battlefield. His movement was slow, appearing hesitant to any observing eyes, wand clutched in front of his chest.
Vel maintained distance from the melee, watching Celia's movements carefully. This was their plan—let her draw the opponents' attention while he assessed the situation.
It looked dangerous, putting her against two fighters at once, but he trusted her abilities.
The opponents grew more confident, their movements becoming predictable. They thought they had the advantage—the two unstable students might as well not exist.
The fight was going as expected, until–
The dual-wielder suddenly pressed harder. He and Thorson coordinated their attacks, forcing Celia to defend from two angles at once. The rhythm shifted—she was no longer controlling the space.
Celia's foot caught in loose sand. A small misstep, but enough.
The dual-wielder's eyes lit up. Both opponents lunged forward, seeing the opening.
An ice shard shot through the air, streaking toward Thorson.
The buckler-wielder raised his shield without breaking stride. The projectile shattered harmlessly against the metal with a pathetic crack.
But the split-second distraction was enough. Celia recovered her footing and darted back, regaining safe distance.
Thorson let out a grunt of annoyance.
Vel raised his sword and moved forward.
"WHAT'S THIS?" Janos's voice boomed across the arena. "After hanging back while his teammate faces two opponents, Novalance finally joins the fray! Has our unstable student found his courage, or given up on spellcasting entirely?"
The buckler-wielder immediately adjusted, turning to meet Vel's charge while the dual-wielder maintained pressure on Celia.
"Two-on-two now!" Vel called out, swinging his sword in a controlled arc toward the buckler-wielder.
His opponent blocked, the metal shield deflecting Vel's blade with a sharp clang. The man countered with a thrust of his falchion, forcing Vel to sidestep.
"Unstable thinks he can fight!" the buckler-wielder taunted, pressing forward with another slash.
Vel parried and retreated a step, keeping his distance.
To his right, Celia stayed on her toes, working only thrusts—quick in, quicker out. Wide swings would meet twin blades or get trapped in a cross‑hold. Varys hunted her midsection; her point hunted high.
A flick of her wrist turned one of his swords off‑line, opening space at his shoulder. She drove for it. His other blade rode the opening and cut for her midsection.
One stab, one slash. Both landed together; the protective charms flared and held. Too fast for a finish—both retreated at same time, no decisive result.
Vel shifted toward the ground Celia had yielded until they stood shoulder-close. Thorson—the buckler—edged over to check his teammate.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"Give me a little more time. I can find a way past his guard," Celia said.
"I know you can. Play it safe for now. I'll keep Thorson busy."
Frustration showed on their opponents' faces.
They surged together, side by side—steel meeting steel in a quick, hard series of clashes. Varys and Thorson mirrored them, tightening into the same formation.
The four crowded in. Varys's gaze slid from Celia to Vel; he caught Celia's blade on one sword and sent the other in an upward cut toward Vel. Celia knocked the parrying blade aside, then dropped a downward block to catch Varys's upward cut; the swords locked. Thorson took the moment, driving a thrust at her as she stepped in. Vel swept wide and knocked the thrust aside.
"Hey, boundary."
"THE UNSTABLE TEAM IS SHOWING SURPRISING COORDINATION!" Janos's voice cut through the clash of steel. "But how long can they maintain this defensive posture?"
Vel caught Celia's eye during a brief respite between exchanges. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod—the signal they'd agreed upon.
In perfect synchronization, they both disengaged, leaping away from the two-pronged attack and putting several paces between themselves and their opponents.
"AIR CUTTER!" Vel shouted, channeling mana through his blade.
"TRINITY VOLT!" Celia called simultaneously, her rapier crackling with electrical energy.
The air around Vel's sword compressed and sharpened into an invisible edge as he swung, sending a crescent-shaped force toward the buckler-wielder. At the same moment, three jagged bolts of lightning shot from Celia's rapier toward the dual-wielder.
Their opponents' eyes widened at the coordinated attack, but the buckler-wielder reacted with surprising speed. He stepped forward, positioning himself partially in front of his teammate, and raised his shield.
"HEXUS!" he shouted, and a honeycomb pattern of hexagonal energy formed across the shield's surface.
The two sword arts struck the barrier simultaneously. There was a blinding flash and a sound like a massive bell being struck. The hexagonal barrier shattered with a high-pitched twang, and the shield itself cracked from center to edge—but it held. Both opponents remained standing, though visibly shaken.
"INCREDIBLE!" Janos exclaimed. "Thorson's Hexus Barrier just barely withstood that combined assault!"
Vel and Celia watched as Thorson lowered his cracked shield. The dual-wielder let out a slow whistle, almost impressed.
But both opponents grinned.
Without warning, they broke apart, diving to opposite sides. Vel's instincts flared as he registered movement from across the arena.
"INCOMING!" Tomas shouted from far away.
Vel's gaze snapped toward the opponent's caster. A disk of green magic wind spun with insane speed, flying directly toward where Vel and Celia stood. The spell hummed with compressed air, cutting through the arena atmosphere like a saw blade.
He couldn't block that with his sword. Casting a defensive spell would be too slow. He needed to dodge. But his body wasn't moving yet.
Then, as Vel was still registering the spell, Celia shoved him to the side. Thanks to his enhancement spell, she pivoted just in time, the wind disk missing them by inches as it sliced through the space they'd occupied moments before. The spell continued its path, embedding itself into the arena wall with a thunderous crack.
"SPECTACULAR EVASION!" Janos exclaimed. "Miss Freznoria just saved her teammate from what could have been a devastating blow! That's the kind of battlefield awareness that separates tournament winners from the rest!"
On the distance, almost slipping from the audience's attention, Tomas had already crossed halfway through the arena. He was behind the frontline now, close enough to their caster. He raised his wand up over his head with both hands, charging forward like a madman. He looked as if he was about to smack the wind caster with his wand rather than cast a spell. The audience burst into scattered laughter at the seemingly desperate tactic.
Even Janos couldn't hide his amusement. "And what do we have here? It seems the unstable caster has... forgotten how magic works? Or perhaps this is some revolutionary new technique involving hitting opponents with your focus?"
The wind caster appeared both confused and amused by Tomas's maneuver. She jumped slightly backward to dodge the downward smack of his wand, her lips curving into a mocking smile.
But Tomas didn't stop. He kept the momentum going, diving forward and pointing his wand directly at the ground where the wind caster had stood just moments before. Both hands gripped the focus as it touched the sand.
"Igni-terra-lea Volcia Iter!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the suddenly quiet arena.
Vel watched as their plan took shape. The sand beneath the wind caster's feet transformed in an instant, becoming a bubbling, volcanic surface. Before she could react, molten earth erupted directly beneath her.
The wind caster barely registered what was happening. The impact pushed her slightly upward and backward, her eyes wide with shock rather than pain. Then, as no one expected, her protective charm flashed brilliantly before shattering into particles of light, marking her elimination from the match.
A protective dome conjured by a nearby official immediately covered the wind caster, preventing any further damage as the illusion of molten rock continued to bubble where she'd stood.
The entire arena suddenly fell silent. Spectators froze in their seats, mouths hanging open. Even some of the officials exchanged stunned glances.
The silence stretched for several heartbeats.
"What the—" Janos's voice escaped before he could stop it.
He cleared his throat quickly, snapping back into professionalism. "UNBELIEVABLE! Tomas Mardin has taken out the wind caster with a single spell!" A brief pause. "Though I have no information on what that spell was!"
The crowd erupted into a mixture of cheers and confused murmurs. Some spectators were on their feet, pointing and discussing the unexpected turn of events.
Vel exchanged a look with Celia, whose expression mirrored his own amazement. Their practice sessions had paid off in ways they couldn't have anticipated. Tomas stood frozen in place, seemingly as shocked by his success as everyone else.
Vel watched as the buckler-wielder and dual-wielder exchanged shocked glances. Their stunned expressions lasted only a moment before their battle instincts took over. With a silent nod between them, both opponents pivoted sharply and charged toward Tomas.
"Tomas! Move!" Vel shouted, already breaking into a sprint.
Celia dashed forward alongside him, her rapier extended. They'd practiced this scenario repeatedly during training—protecting Tomas when melee fighters inevitably targeted him. But the distance was too great. They were at least five paces behind their opponents.
The dual-wielder suddenly stopped mid-run. He spun around with both blades extended, the swords cutting through the air in a continuous whirlwind. Flames erupted from his blades, creating a swirling wall of fire and sand between them and Tomas.
"Firestorm Blade!" Varys shouted.
Vel and Celia immediately detoured around the swirling wall, but the maneuver cost them precious seconds. Vel could cast a spell to break through, but not without revealing abilities he'd been concealing. Not this early in the tournament. They still had more matches ahead.
We can't reach him in time.
Ahead, Tomas stood frozen, his wand hanging limply at his side. The triumph of his successful spell had given way to deer-in-torchlight paralysis. The dual-wielder leapt high into the air, blades crossed above his head, preparing to bring them down in a devastating cross slash. Simultaneously, Thorson lowered his cracked shield and charged forward like a battering ram.
Vel's heart sank. They were still too far away.
But just as Thorson closed within a pace of Tomas, the sand beneath his feet transformed. A platform of molten rock erupted upward with explosive force, launching the buckler-wielder skyward toward his airborne teammate.
Vel's eyes widened in surprise. Tomas had prepared a delayed spell!
What happened next defied expectation. Rather than flailing in panic, Thorson curled his body mid-air, positioning his shield flat above him.
"Varys! Formation Three!" Thorson shouted.
The dual-wielder—Varys—instantly adjusted his trajectory, planting one foot firmly on the shield's surface. Using it as a springboard, he pushed off with incredible precision.
"Phoenix Dive!" Varys cried, his body wreathed in flickering orange energy as he plummeted toward Tomas.
The attack was blindingly fast. Both blades struck Tomas simultaneously, creating a burst of light as they connected. Tomas's protective charm flared brilliantly before shattering into particles, signaling his elimination.
A dome of protective magic immediately surrounded Tomas as an official's spell activated, preventing any further damage. Tomas slumped to his knees, the illusion of wounds appearing across his chest where the blades had struck.
"WHAT AN EXCHANGE OF BLOWS!" Janos's voice thundered across the arena, his excitement palpable. "Tomas Mardin eliminated Aria Windcrest with that surprising magma spell, but then fell victim to an extraordinary aerial combination from Thorson and Varys! This leaves us with a two-versus-two standoff that promises to be ELECTRIFYING!"
...
Vel steadied his breathing as he assessed the situation. Across the sand, Thorson and Varys had regained their footing, their expressions hardening with renewed determination. Varys twirled his dual blades, the momentary triumph of eliminating Tomas evident in his confident stance.
"Just us now," Celia murmured beside him, her rapier held at the ready position.
Vel nodded, shifting his sword to a middle guard. "We've trained for this."
The four fighters stood motionless, each pair studying the other across the expanse of disturbed sand. Where Tomas's spell had struck, patches of glass gleamed in the sunlight—sand transformed by intense heat. The arena had fallen unnaturally quiet, the spectators holding their collective breath for what would come next.
Thorson rotated his shield arm, testing its response after the unexpected aerial maneuver. Varys stepped slightly forward, then back, his weight balanced perfectly between both feet, ready to explode into action at any moment.
"The tension is PALPABLE, ladies and gentlemen!" Janos continued, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper that somehow carried throughout the arena. "With Tomas and Aria eliminated, we now have a classic confrontation! The unexpected coordination of Novalance and Freznoria against the established teamwork of Thorson and Varys! Who will break this deadlock? Who will make the first move?"
Vel caught Celia's eye, a silent communication passing between them. The crowd's murmurs grew louder as the standoff continued, neither team willing to commit to the first move and potentially expose a weakness.
"Four fighters, two protective charms remaining on each side," Janos narrated. "The next exchange could very well determine our victors!"
Varys spoke up, breaking the silence, one sword resting casually over his shoulder. "Severin said I shouldn't underestimate you. I thought he went crazy."
Thorson shot his partner an irritated glance. "Shut it, Varys. Let's end this right here."
"Not a talker, are we?" Vel responded, keeping his voice light despite the pressure mounting in his chest. "I'm curious what else Severin said about me."
While his tone remained casual, Vel's mind raced with calculations. Thorson's reaction time during that mid-air maneuver hadn't been luck—it showed trained reflexes and strategic thinking. The shield-user might be as skilled as Sylwen Wyvell, perhaps even more dangerous in close combat.
"If you don't win convincingly, it might not look good," Celia said, her voice carrying across the sand.
From the stands, voices murmured in agreement.
"They're struggling against unstable students—"
"Should've ended this already—"
Vel caught the slight shift in Thorson's stance—a momentary hesitation. She was playing psychological games, turning the pressure back on them.
"FASCINATING!" Janos's voice boomed across the arena. "It seems our competitors are engaging in verbal sparring before the physical battle resumes! A rare moment of respite in what has been an EXPLOSIVE match thus far!"
Vel took advantage of the momentary distraction to lean slightly toward Celia, his voice dropping to a whisper only she could hear.
"Thorson is light attunement. Varys is fire. Based on what we've seen." Vel whispered. "I should face Varys due to my apparent Water-Air attunement. I believe you'll find a way to get past Thorson's defense."
Celia's eyes flickered with understanding, her grip adjusting slightly on her rapier. She gave an almost imperceptible nod, the corners of her mouth turning up into the barest hint of a smile.
The crowd's murmurs grew louder as the standoff continued. Vel felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple, but he remained perfectly still, waiting for the perfect moment to execute their plan.
"Are we going to stand here all day?" Varys spoke up, his dual swords at the ready. He twirled one blade impatiently, the metal catching sunlight as it spun. "We didn't come here to talk."
"After you," Vel replied with forced casualness, his sword held steady. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to react to the slightest movement from either opponent.
The four fighters began circling slowly, maintaining their distance while studying each other's movements. Vel kept his eyes primarily on Varys but remained aware of Thorson's position through his peripheral vision. The crowd's murmurs faded into background noise as Vel focused entirely on the deadly dance unfolding across the sand.
This was the typical tension between melee fighters—each waiting for the other to commit first, to expose a weakness that could be exploited.
Vel raised his hand suddenly, fingers splaying in the familiar gesture for a Wind Blast spell. "Aeris—"
Before he could complete the incantation, Thorson sprung into action. The shield-bearer charged forward with surprising speed, his cracked buckler leading the way as he rushed to interrupt Vel's casting.
Celia darted forward to intercept, her rapier flashing as she blocked Thorson's advance with a series of precise strikes. The clash of steel rang out across the arena as she forced him to focus entirely on defense.
"WHAT REFLEXES!" Janos shouted. "Freznoria cuts off Thorson's charge with impeccable timing!"
But Vel had already spotted the real danger. While Celia engaged Thorson, Varys had begun circling around her, using his teammate's charge as cover for his own flanking maneuver. Both Thorson and Varys had recognized they couldn't overcome Celia's superior footwork and reflexes in a direct confrontation—they'd learned that from the earlier exchanges.
So they'd changed tactics. Varys was now clearly targeting Vel.
The dual-wielder closed the distance with alarming speed, blades held low and wide as he approached from Vel's right side. His footwork was impeccable, each step calculated to cut off potential escape routes.
Vel watched Varys approach, dual blades glinting in the arena light. Despite the pressure mounting in his chest, he forced his expression into casual nonchalance.
"Two swords doesn't mean it's better than one," Vel called out, deliberately provoking the dual-wielder.
Varys's face twisted into a sneer. "We'll see about that, cloudy."
The dual-wielder lunged forward, both blades slashing in a coordinated attack pattern—one high, one low. Vel pivoted sideways, catching the high strike with his sword while stepping clear of the low sweep. Metal rang against metal, the impact vibrating up Vel's arm.
Across the arena, Celia and Thorson were locked in their own deadly dance, rapier flashing against shield in a blur of movement. The crowd's roar swelled as both pairs exchanged blow after blow, neither gaining clear advantage.
Varys pressed his attack relentlessly, dual blades weaving complex patterns that forced Vel to constantly adjust his defense. Each parry had to be precise—a single misstep would mean elimination.
Vel was grateful he'd chosen to bring his sword rather than relying solely on spellcasting. A pure caster would be at a severe disadvantage against Varys's aggressive style, unable to maintain the concentration necessary for complex incantations while dodging those whirling blades.
I just need one opening, Vel thought, parrying another strike. One moment to cast a close-range spell or break away to regain advantage.
Varys's eyes narrowed suddenly, his stance shifting. Both blades began to glow with orange-red energy, heat distorting the air around them.
"Flame Flurry!" Varys shouted, his body spinning into a whirlwind of fiery steel.
Vel recognized the technique instantly. As someone who had created Aeonalus and its combat system, he knew exactly what to expect from a Fire-attuned dual-wielder. Flame Flurry was a mid-tier sword art that sacrificed defense for overwhelming offense—a series of eight consecutive strikes delivered in under two seconds, each blade trailing fire.
The key weakness: once committed to the attack pattern, Varys couldn't change direction.
Vel broke sideways, timing his movement to the split second after Varys committed to the technique. The first six slashes cut through empty air where Vel had stood moments before. The seventh, however, caught him by surprise as Varys adjusted his body angle slightly faster than expected. The blade whistled past Vel's shoulder, missing by mere inches as he completed his dodge.
Vel rolled away from the final strike, recovering on one knee. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he assessed the situation. Varys had overextended himself with the Flame Flurry technique, creating the perfect opening.
"Gotcha," Vel whispered, a small smile forming on his lips.
Without hesitation, Vel extended his palm toward Varys. "Aeris Dualis!"
A powerful Wind Blast materialized between them, expanding outward with explosive force. The concentrated air pressure slammed into both fighters, propelling them in opposite directions. Vel had subtly modified his side of the blast—less destructive, more about creating distance—but to any observer, it would appear he'd been caught in his own spell. He braced himself as he skidded backward across the sand.
Varys tumbled through the air but managed to cross his blades defensively at the last moment. The dual-wielder's protective charm flickered but held—he'd successfully parried enough of the blast's force to prevent elimination.
"EXTRAORDINARY TACTICS!" Janos's voice boomed across the arena. "Novalance uses a Wind Blast to create distance—sacrificing his own position for strategic advantage!"
Vel regained his footing, now standing several paces away from his opponent. The distance was perfect—close enough for accurate casting but far enough to avoid Varys's blades. This was exactly the advantage Vel had been working toward.
Without wasting the opportunity, Vel traced the familiar sigil in the air. The incantation flowed naturally from his lips.
"Zetahn Feryis Crystallum!"
A brilliant blue-white lance of ice materialized before him, then shot forward with tremendous speed. Varys barely had time to react, crossing his blades to intercept the magical projectile.
The Ice Lance struck the crossed swords with devastating impact. The blade, still radiating heat from his earlier Flame Flurry, met the extreme cold. Frost immediately spread across the metal, the thermal shock making it brittle. With a sharp crack, the right-hand sword shattered into frozen fragments, leaving Varys wide-eyed with shock as he stared at the broken hilt in his hand.
"See? I told you," Vel called out, unable to resist the taunt. "Two isn't better than one."
"IMPOSSIBLE!" Janos roared, his voice reverberating through the arena. "Mister Novalance not only excels at close combat, but also spellcasting! Despite some spell backfire, he utilized it PERFECTLY! Ladies and gentlemen, we've NEVER seen this from an unstable student—not that unstable students have lasted this long before!"
Vel couldn't help a small smile at the announcer's theatrics. The crowd's energy shifted—murmurs of surprise rippling through the stands as spectators reassessed what they'd just witnessed. In the elite section, several students leaned forward with newfound interest.
Across the sand, Varys stared at his shattered weapon, shock giving way to determination as he tightened his grip on the remaining short sword. The frozen fragments of his other blade lay scattered across the arena floor, glittering in the sunlight.
Vel shifted his stance, adjusting his grip on his longsword. With only a short sword remaining, Varys had lost his primary advantage—the ability to attack from multiple angles simultaneously.
"Interesting predicament for Varys!" Janos continued his commentary. "Having lost one of his twin blades to that ice spell, he now faces a significant reach disadvantage against Novalance's longsword!"
Vel kept his sword extended, using its length to maintain the gap between them.
Varys lowered his center of gravity, his remaining sword held in a defensive position as he began circling Vel once more. His eyes narrowed, calculating, waiting for the perfect moment to close the distance. He understood his disadvantage.
The crowd's attention was now fully fixed on their confrontation, the battle between Celia and Thorson momentarily forgotten as this unexpected development unfolded.
Varys kept shifting his weight forward as if preparing to lunge—now reduced to a single blade. The classic approach for a fighter with a shorter weapon: get inside the opponent's guard where the longer reach became a liability.
And you think I would get in close range again? Vel thought, a plan forming instantly.
"AIR CUTTER!"
Vel channeled his mana into the blade, executing the sword art. The air around his weapon compressed, then released in a visible arc of pressure that shot toward Varys.
With only one sword, Varys couldn't possibly block the full technique. He pivoted desperately to avoid the worst of it—only to find his feet suddenly stepping onto an icy surface that hadn't been there seconds before.
The ice crawled upward, rapidly encasing his boots and ankles. Varys's eyes widened in shock as he realized he was immobilized.
But the dual-wielder wasn't finished. His remaining blade began to glow with intense heat.
"Flame Edge!" Varys shouted, driving the superheated sword downward into the ice.
Steam erupted as the ice around his feet melted and cracked. Varys wrenched himself free, stumbling back a step as the last of the frozen shackles broke away.
Vel didn't give him time to recover. He charged forward immediately, sword raised high as if preparing for an overhead strike.
Varys reacted on instinct, bringing his blade up to intercept the incoming blow. His sword caught Vel's blade with a metallic screech, stopping it cold.
Triumph flashed across Varys's face. "Clever," he forced out, straining against Vel's weight. "But look at where you are now—"
His expression changed mid-sentence. His eyes focused on Vel's lips, watching them move in a barely audible whisper.
"—Crystallum."
Vel finished with a grin.
The Ice Lance materialized at point-blank range. Varys's eyes widened in realization, but it was too late. The magical ice struck while his blade remained locked against Vel's sword. The protective charm around him flared brilliantly as the spell penetrated his defense, creating the illusion of a devastating injury through his chest.
The charm shattered with a sound like breaking glass, signaling Varys's elimination.
"ELIMINATION!" Janos's voice thundered across the arena. "Varys is OUT after that BRILLIANT combination from Novalance!"
Officials immediately raised another barrier, a translucent dome that surrounded Varys, officially marking his removal from the match. Through the shimmering field, Vel could see the dual-wielder clutching at his chest where the illusion of the ice lance had struck, his expression still processing what had just happened.
Vel caught his breath as he turned toward Celia, who remained locked in combat with Thorson.
Celia's rapier flashed—once, twice, three times in rapid succession. Each strike met the cracked buckler with sharp clangs. Thorson weathered the assault, then his falchion lashed out in a counter. Celia shifted her stance, giving ground as Thorson pressed forward, reclaiming the space she'd taken.
"INCREDIBLE PERSISTENCE!" Janos shouted. "While Novalance dispatches Varys with that DEVASTATING combination, Freznoria and Thorson remain deadlocked in what can only be described as a MASTERCLASS of technical swordplay!"
Thorson's eyes flickered briefly toward his eliminated teammate, his expression hardening as he registered the fate of Varys. The shield-user's movements became more aggressive, more desperate—he understood he was now the last man standing for his team.
Vel assessed the situation quickly. Thorson was skilled, perhaps even more so than Varys, but he now faced a two-against-one scenario. The light attunement fighter had relied on coordination with his teammate to maintain pressure on Celia. Without that support, his defensive style would soon become a liability.
Vel moved to flank Thorson from the opposite side.
Celia caught sight of him approaching. "Took you long enough," she said, her rapier still trained on Thorson.
"Impressive you held Celia off this long," Vel said to Thorson.
Thorson's eyes darted between them, his shield angling to maintain visibility of both threats. He backed toward the arena wall, step by step, until there was nowhere left to retreat.
"Don't count me out yet," Thorson said, his voice steady despite being cornered. "I've faced worse odds."
Then he moved.
Thorson raised his buckler and charged—not at them, but toward the gap between them, attempting to break free from the corner.
Vel moved to close the gap, but Thorson was faster. The shield-user barreled past Celia with a shoulder check that knocked her slightly off-balance, creating distance between himself and both opponents. Sand kicked up in his wake, forming a blurry curtain that momentarily obscured their vision.
When the dust settled, Thorson stood several paces away, having positioned himself near the center of the arena. He turned back toward Vel and Celia, his chest heaving with exertion but his eyes sharp with determination.
"I've never expected this," he said between short breaths. A smile crept across his face—not the expression of someone who felt cornered.
Before Vel could respond, Thorson began a strange ritual. He smacked his falchion against his buckler repeatedly, each impact creating a resonant metallic ring that seemed to grow louder with each strike.
Vel recognized the pattern immediately. The repeated impacts weren't random—they were activating sequential sword arts in rapid combination.
"Light Armor!"
A golden shimmer enveloped Thorson's body, reinforcing his protective charm with an additional layer of magical defense.
"Divine Blade!"
His falchion began to glow with intense white light, the radiance extending several inches beyond the physical edge of the weapon.
"Blinding Shield!"
The buckler erupted with brilliant light, forcing Vel to shield his eyes against the sudden glare.
"What the—" Vel muttered, squinting against the radiance. "How many martial arts does this guy know?"
Thorson now stood practically glowing with magic, his entire form wreathed in luminous energy. The light attunement fighter had transformed from a defensive specialist into something far more threatening.
Vel squinted against the blinding radiance emanating from Thorson. The light was so intense it left purple-green afterimages dancing across his vision each time he tried to look directly at his opponent.
Light Warrior build.
The term surfaced from Giri's memories—a popular player archetype from Aeonalus Primordial's early days. Light attunement fighters who stacked multiple illumination effects to create sensory overload in their opponents. The strategy was simple yet effective: blind your enemy, then strike when they couldn't properly track your movements.
"Can't hit what you can't see," Vel muttered, recalling the catchphrase that had dominated PvP forums for months until balance patches addressed the issue.
Thorson advanced slowly, his glowing form impossibly bright against the arena sand. Each step left luminous footprints that lingered for several seconds, creating a disorienting trail of light that further confused Vel's visual perception.
"ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT!" Janos's voice reached a new pitch of excitement that bordered on hysteria. "Ladies and gentlemen, Thorson has activated a LEGENDARY combination of light-attuned sword arts!"
The announcer's voice cracked with enthusiasm as he continued, "For those unfamiliar with this technique—it creates a blinding aura that makes targeting nearly IMPOSSIBLE! Even looking in the general direction can damage one's vision! Masterful tactical decision from Thorson!"
Vel raised his arm to shield his eyes. The afterimages were getting worse—overlapping patches of color that distorted his depth perception. He couldn't tell exactly how far away Thorson was anymore.
"Celia!" Vel called out. "Don't look directly at him!"
Footsteps pounded against the sand—Thorson charging toward them through his own brilliant light.
Vel dove sideways, rolling across the arena floor as the glowing figure swept past. Celia likewise darted in the opposite direction, narrowly avoiding Thorson's rush.
How do we fight something we can't even look at? Vel's mind raced as he moved, trying to track Thorson's position by sound and the shifting light patterns.
Celia lunged forward, her rapier striking at where she thought Thorson would be. Her blade met only air. She pivoted immediately, but Thorson's counter came from a completely different angle. His glowing falchion forced her back.
Vel tried next, timing his strike based on Thorson's footfalls. His sword clashed against the buckler, but he couldn't see the counter coming. Thorson's blade swept toward him, forcing Vel to retreat blindly.
They were fighting blind while Thorson moved through his own light with practiced ease.
Then the footsteps stopped.
Vel froze, straining to hear. Silence. Even the crowd seemed to hold its breath.
Thorson had changed tactics.
The glowing form remained visible, but now it moved slowly, deliberately. Each step carefully placed to minimize sound. The light shifted across the arena like a predator stalking prey.
He's hunting us.
Vel's pulse quickened. Without the sound of Thorson's movements, they had no way to predict his attacks. The shield-user could strike from any direction.
A blur of motion—Thorson suddenly lunged at Celia. She barely raised her rapier in time, the impact sending her stumbling backward.
Vel needed a solution. He couldn't keep dodging blindly. His mind worked through possibilities.
Ice.
Not to attack—to defend. A barrier between them and that blinding light.
"Glacis Solith Temporus!"
A thin sheet of ice materialized in front of Vel, positioned like a screen between him and Thorson's radiance. The translucent barrier filtered the intense light, making it bearable to look past.
Vel's vision cleared. He could see Thorson's silhouette through the ice screen.
But Thorson noticed immediately. The shield-user's head turned toward the barrier.
Then he charged.
Thorson rammed his buckler straight through the ice screen. It shattered with a crack, sending fragments flying.
Vel conjured another barrier several paces to his left, far enough that he could reach it before Thorson. "Glacis Solith Temporus!"
He started moving toward the ice screen.
Thorson's arm drew back. He hurled his buckler like a disc through the air.
The shield spun end-over-end, smashing through the ice screen with a sharp crack. The barrier shattered. Then the buckler reversed direction mid-flight, spinning back toward Thorson who stood perfectly still. He caught it effortlessly.
What?! He can do that?!
Vel squinted, trying to observe the technique. The blinding light seared his vision. He caught only glimpses—the shield spinning, the return arc—before he had to shield his eyes again.
Pain lanced through his skull from the brightness.
He couldn't see clearly enough. What was the weakness? How could he counter it? The details were lost in the glare.
I can't maintain these barriers faster than he can destroy them.
Vel's mana was draining with each conjuration. This wasn't sustainable.
Celia circled wide, trying to flank Thorson, but without the ice screens, she couldn't get close enough without being blinded again.
Vel backed away, his mind racing. The ice screens worked in theory, but Thorson adapted too quickly. He needed something different.
An idea sparked.
"Celia!" Vel shouted, breaking away from Thorson to create distance. "Shield your eyes when I give you the signal! I need time to prepare!"
While Celia kept Thorson occupied, Vel began muttering calculations under his breath.
"Two pi divided by twelve... thirty degrees each... pi over six radians..." He factored in the angles, mentally preparing the precise geometric formation. "Radius three meters... cosine theta, sine theta for each position..." His fingers traced invisible patterns in the air as he readied the spell.
When everything was in place, Vel called out, "Now, Celia!"
"Glacis Solith Temporus!"
Multiple ice mirrors materialized in a perfect circle around Thorson. Vel's eyes strained with the effort of maintaining the complex formation—twelve reflective surfaces positioned at precise angles.
The blinding light that had been Thorson's advantage suddenly reflected back at him. Each mirror caught and redirected the radiance, creating a dazzling feedback loop. Thorson staggered, momentarily disoriented by his own brilliance.
"Trinity Volt!" Celia called out.
Three lightning bolts shot forth from her blade toward the unguarded Thorson.
But the shield-user wasn't finished. Even blinded, he could still hear. Thorson raised his buckler toward the sound of crackling lightning.
"Hexus!"
The honeycomb pattern flared across his shield's surface. The three bolts struck the barrier simultaneously. The hexagonal shield held for a moment before shattering, but it had done its job—Thorson remained standing, his protective charm intact.
Vel clicked his tongue in frustration. Not enough.
But wait—
What if I reduce the radius?
His fingers moved, tracing a modification to the spell structure. One sigil in the magic circle shifted.
The conjured ice mirrors suddenly flew inward, all twelve surfaces closing in on Thorson like a tightening prison. They converged until they formed a cage barely wider than a person, the brilliant light now contained within the crystalline walls.
Thorson hadn't realized what happened. His glowing form remained trapped inside, the light that had been his weapon now boxed in around him.
Outside the mirror cage, the arena was finally clear. The blinding radiance was contained.
Celia's eyes widened in understanding. She moved immediately, her rapier crackling with renewed energy.
She circled the mirror cage, searching for the perfect angle. Then she struck—a single decisive thrust through one of the gaps between mirrors, her lightning-charged blade finding its mark.
Inside the cage, Thorson's protective charm flared brilliantly. Then it shattered.
"ELIMINATION!" Janos's voice thundered across the arena. "WHAT AN ABSOLUTELY STUNNING REVERSAL! Novalance's ingenious ice mirrors turned Thorson's light against him, then COMPRESSED into a prison! Freznoria delivered those precise strikes through the gaps—INCREDIBLE coordination! Ladies and gentlemen, we have our WINNERS!"
Vel watched the ice mirrors dissipate. The mirrors shattered into crystalline fragments that sparkled in the sunlight before vanishing entirely. He'd kept the barrier up longer than intended—the spell modification had taken more focus than expected. Hopefully no one would see through the facade.
The protective dome around Thorson shimmered and dissolved as officials moved to conclude the match. Across the arena, Vel could see Tomas being released from his own protective dome, looking slightly dazed but otherwise unharmed.
Despite taking the full force of Celia's strike, Thorson remained conscious. He knelt in the sand, head bowed, the brilliant radiance that had surrounded him now completely extinguished. His chest heaved with exertion as he struggled to regain his composure.
Vel approached the defeated opponent, sword lowered. "That was impressive," he said, genuine admiration in his voice. "Stacking that many light techniques together requires serious dedication."
Thorson looked up, surprise flickering across his face at the unexpected praise. His expression softened slightly.
"I couldn't surpass your counter," he admitted, his voice rough with exhaustion. "Never seen anything like that before—using ice as mirrors. Clever."
He shifted his weight, wincing slightly. "I didn't expect to use it in the first match." A wry smile crossed his face. "Against an unstable, no less."
The comment might have seemed insulting from anyone else, but Thorson's tone held no malice—just the frank acknowledgment of a fighter who'd underestimated his opponent.
"It was a good fight," Vel replied. "There's no guarantee who would've won if we'd fought with everything we had from the beginning. Even that wind spell almost got me if it wasn't for Celia."
Vel extended his hand to the kneeling fighter. Thorson regarded it for a moment before clasping it firmly, allowing Vel to help him to his feet.
"Next time," Thorson said as he steadied himself, "you won't be so lucky."
The promise of a rematch—not a threat but a sportsman's challenge. It suited him, Vel thought. People's elements often reflected their nature and beliefs, just as Landre's light affinity matched her compassionate spirit.
"VICTORY for Team Novalance!" Janos announced to thunderous applause. "What a SPECTACULAR display of strategy and adaptability!"
The arena fell into brief silence before erupting in applause. Vel caught fragments of commentary from the stands as he caught his breath.
"—only won because of the duelist girl—"
"—those ice sheets, was that his spell going out of control or—"
"—Freznoria carried the entire match—"
Not everyone appreciated their victory. Some spectators clearly believed their team had won solely due to Celia's offensive capabilities. Vel didn't mind—underestimation worked in their favor for future matches.
They stood in the arena for a moment, taking in the celebration. Officials gestured toward the exit tunnel, prompting them to leave so the next match could begin.
Tomas slowly walked over, his expression apologetic. Despite the protective charms preventing actual injury, he still moved gingerly, as if feeling phantom pain from Varys's attacks.
"I'm sorry I got eliminated so quickly," he said, shoulders slumped. "I could still feel the burn and the illusion of those fiery blades from Varys."
"You did your part," Vel replied, clapping him on the shoulder. "Taking out the caster was no small feat. Even that molten wall surprised me."
Tomas managed a small smile at the acknowledgment.
On the opposite side of the arena, Thorson's team had gathered, the three competitors huddled in conversation. Vel gave them one last look before turning to exit the arena, walking back into the tunnel with Celia and Tomas.
Their match had ended—their first one. Though he had slipped up a few times with his spellcasting, hopefully no one had suspected anything yet. Vel glanced briefly toward the Archmagister's viewing box. She was too far away to see clearly, but somehow he felt a glare upon him. Could he be imagining it?
"WHAT AN UNEXPECTED OUTCOME!" Janos's voice boomed throughout the arena as they disappeared into the tunnel. "We'll take a brief intermission before our next match: Team Thornwood versus Team Alastair!"
The cool shade of the tunnel was a welcome relief after the heat of the arena. Vel rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension begin to drain from his muscles. They had survived their first test.
Instructor Lyvenna greeted them a short moment later, a satisfied smile on her face.
"Congratulations," she said, genuine pride in her voice. "That was excellent teamwork out there. All of you."
Lyvenna nodded once more, her eyes scanning the three of them. "Rest well. You'll need your strength for what lies ahead." With that, she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing against the stone walls of the tunnel.
Vel let out a long breath as the tension of the match finally caught up with him. His muscles ached from the exertion, and he could feel sweat cooling uncomfortably against his skin. Beside him, Tomas slumped against the wall, looking completely drained.
Hileya approached them from the shadows of the corridor, carrying a small basket. She quickly produced towels and water flasks, offering them first to Vel, then to Celia and Tomas.
"Thank you," Vel said, gratefully accepting the towel and wiping his face. The cool water was a blessing against his parched throat.
Despite their obvious fatigue, Celia's expression remained bright. Her eyes sparkled with an energy that belied her physical exhaustion.
Vel caught her gaze across the small space. A knowing smile passed between them—an unspoken acknowledgment of what they'd accomplished together. They'd proven themselves worthy of their place here, despite all the obstacles placed in their way.
"Did you see Kein at the end there?" Celia asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the distant roar of the crowd outside.
"No, I didn't," Vel replied, surprised. "He was watching us?"
Hileya moved closer to Vel, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Lord Atherwind was watching your match intently. He never took his eyes off you, not even when his fellow elites were speaking to him."
Vel exchanged a glance with Celia, both wondering what their former friend might be thinking.
"He might have caught something that other people wouldn't," Vel said thoughtfully, remembering their childhood training sessions together. Kein knew their fighting styles better than anyone else in the Academy.
One thing was certain: they'd crossed a threshold today. There was no going back to being overlooked or underestimated.
For better or worse, they'd made themselves exposed.