The matches were, at best… boring.
The second-years completely overwhelmed the first-years.
A few held their ground for a bit, but none of them managed a win.
Niter, ranked 42nd among the first-years, lasted longer than those before and after him.
But the rankings weren't exactly reliable. They factored in both written and physical exams, so they didn't reflect a student's true combat ability.
After the initial placements, the rest was determined through fights alone. So even if someone didn't do well on the written test, they could climb the ranks by winning matches.
Niter and Hei were good examples of that.
Hei held his own surprisingly well. He even managed to injure his opponent—something no one else had done so far.
His fighting style was different. It always reminded Colt of the heroes from his old world.
Maybe it was the two-handed sword. Or maybe it was the way Hei moved, like a character straight out of a storybook.
Myrin, on the other hand, was a support class. Her match didn't last long.
She tried to trap her opponent with tree roots, but couldn't catch him. In the end, she conceded.
Meanwhile, student 16—the sixth-ranked first-year and the one who thought fighting a priest would be easy—was carried off to the infirmary.
Priests had to learn self-defense. In real battles, they were often the first targets.
If they couldn't protect themselves, they wouldn't last long.
There were specialized sub-classes like battle priests, of course, but this opponent wasn't even one of them.
She was just a normal priest who attacked. But the warrior, thinking that a priest's attack wouldn't hurt, took the full force of the attack.
So, his hospitalization had nothing to do with the priest.
Then came the second prince.
His opponent was a summoner girl.
She walked into the arena with a small, fox-like spirit perched in her hand.
"Second prince, I hope you won't mind what I'm about to do. This fight is still a lesson," she said.
"Don't worry. I hope you won't mind me," Antoine replied with a smile befitting royalty.
The summoner only smirked. She'd seen plenty of that today.
All the first-years thought they could take on upperclassmen just because Colt had managed it.
And every one of them had been defeated.
It was nothing new. The same thing happened last year. When she was a first-year student, her class had done the same.
Kael, especially, had been rude to Diane, confident he'd win easily.
Of course, they all lost.
So, she was sure today would be no different.
This wasn't arrogance. After spending a year in the academy, she understood what being part of the top academy actually meant.
But things didn't go as planned.
She summoned two spirits without chanting—a lion and an eagle.
Normally, summoners had to chant to call spirits, and even then, the results were partly random.
As summoners grew stronger, they could reduce that randomness. First by controlling the spirit's size, then its features, and eventually, its elemental group.
Still, even experienced summoners rarely summoned a specific spirit.
That's where contracted spirits came in. Once bonded, these spirits didn't require chants. They were like pets—family, even.
She hadn't expected much resistance today, so she summoned two of her contracted spirits.
She never expected Antoine to kill them both with a single swing.
They died on the spot.
Two of her family members, gone just like that. And they were strong ones.
She froze, stunned. Her eyes stayed on Antoine, trying to make sense of what had happened. Then, anger bloomed.
A blue, mana-like light flared around her hands—the spirit essence used by summoners to channel power and reach into the spirit realm.
But before she could do anything, Antoine was already in front of her, his sword at her neck.
She had no choice but to surrender.
She retrieved the fox spirit, who had run off after the others were slain, and walked back to her spot with tears in her eyes.
No one blamed the second prince. The quickest way to beat a summoner was to eliminate their spirits.
"The winner is Antoine!" Cecilia announced.
She wasn't surprised. Antoine was already stronger than most students.
Even Seila had only outranked him because of her written exam scores. This was bound to happen sooner or later.
Antoine also went back to his spot, a bit relieved from the stress he had been having for more than a week now.
***
Before Colt's match, the final bout was between Seila and 22.
22 was an assassin.
He probably wasn't the second strongest among the second years, but assassins excelled in one-on-one combat.
And that was how the rankings were decided.
Seila, on the other hand, looked calm—either because she knew she wouldn't be seriously hurt, or because she was confident in her skills.
Either way, it didn't matter. The two faced each other in the ring Cecilia had conjured.
Just before the match began, the assassin spoke.
"Miss Seila. It's been a while."
Seila blinked, surprised. "I'm sorry... have we met before?"
She sounded sincere—genuinely apologetic, not rude. But she was also tense. It wasn't nice to forget someone you met before.
22's expression tightened for a moment, but he smoothed it over so quickly that most wouldn't have noticed.
"I am Marcus. Marcus Maguire. We met briefly at the second prince's birthday banquet. After that, my father sent a marriage proposal on my behalf.
But I heard it was rejected—apparently, because your marriage partner had already been chosen. May I ask who the lucky man is?"
Seila's smile faltered slightly. "I don't think this is the right time to talk about that. And... I actually don't know. That decision's up to my father."
"Really? I didn't think Count Springold would force his daughter into something she didn't want," 22 said with a hint of amusement. "He's famous for doting on you."
"This isn't about being forced. I respect his choices because I trust him. He's never done anything to hurt me."
Her voice was steady, even if her eyes tightened. She always trusted her father.
"But again... I don't think we should be having this conversation in front of everyone," she added, more firmly this time.
She was right. Since the duels among the top ten had started, the arena had only grown louder. All eyes were on them.
Her dismissal clearly irked him. He frowned again, deeper this time.
Then, without another word, he drew two blunt daggers and dropped into a low stance.
Seila reached behind her and took out her staff, which was given by the academy, her grip firm.
Cecilia looked between them, then gave the signal.
And 22 vanished.