"Dean, vice dean, teachers, and my dear friends, welcome to this year's entrance tournament!!"
The booming voice rang through the stadium, enhanced by magic and filled with a kind of exaggerated excitement that instantly drew the attention of thousands of students packed into the circular seating.
In the very center of the stadium, under a series of floating magical lights, stood a young man waving both arms like he was trying to stir up a storm. His features were ordinary—maybe even forgettable—but his loud energy and goofy grin made him hard to ignore. He held a floating crystal orb, a voice-enhancing device, and leaned into it dramatically.
"This year's tournament will begin in five minutes! Five!"
He gestured toward the enormous countdown screen floating high above the stadium—numbers burning backwards from 5:00.
"Who's gonna come out on top this time?! There are powerhouses, heirs, monsters-in-the-making all packed into the same pit! You better have placed your bets, because I've already put money on a certain princess giving everyone a run for their coins—if she doesn't drop half the arena first!"
The audience roared. Cheers. Whistles. A few bold chants rising through the crowd. The anticipation was building like a wave.
Beside him stood a girl with a more composed demeanor—though her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. She had sleek, blonde hair tied back into a clean ponytail, her pointed ears peeking through with a faint shimmer of charm magic swirling subtly around her. The badge of the Academy gleamed on her chest, the embroidery denoting her role as student staff.
She lifted her crystal mic, her voice smooth and melodic—pleasant in contrast to her co-host's chaotic volume.
"Are you ready, everyone?" she said with a smile, her voice echoing across the stands.
"This year's tournament is quite special. I'll be joining our beloved Jake here as your co-host—Elira Solwyn, at your service! And trust me…" She grinned, eyes scanning the massive stadium. "With the lineup this year? You won't want to blink."
The floating screen above them flashed again—zooming in on the arena floor, the gates lining the perimeter, the figures of students being ushered into preparation zones by instructors. Below the main platform, participants from dozens of territories were lining up—each holding their own weapons, scrolls, enchanted badges, and a mixture of excitement and fear in their eyes.
The students in the stands leaned forward, buzzing with names they'd heard in rumors—children of kings, monster-slayers from the north, spirit-bonded prodigies, and nobles wielding rare affinities.
And some… were waiting for one more name to appear.
Elira's voice carried on, her tone lifting the energy again as the clock ticked toward 4:00.
"Will it be a dark horse this year? A genius from the mountains? A silent assassin from the sands? Or maybe someone… forgotten, who finally gets their moment in the sun."
She glanced at Jake, who struck a ridiculous pose and grinned.
"Five minutes to glory or humiliation! I'm Jake, that's Elira—and this is the Astrea Entrance Tournament!"
The crowd erupted.
And deep in the waiting zone—far from the noise, standing behind one of the looming gate walls—Lucen Ferndale stood in silence, the sound of the crowd washing over him like a distant tide.
As the final minute on the floating countdown ticked away, the center of the stadium began to tremble. A low rumble vibrated through the stone seats, and the air itself shimmered as powerful earth magic surged into motion.
From the middle of the flat arena ground, enormous slabs of rock burst upward—grinding, twisting, folding into one another. Dust filled the air, and gasps echoed from the audience as the terrain reshaped itself in real-time. Crags, ledges, and winding paths formed rapidly as a towering hill began to take shape—no, not just one.
Multiple hills, sharp-edged and uneven, rose like ancient battlegrounds from the earth itself, each with its own steep slopes and jagged terrain. Some cliffs were narrow, others wide and exposed, but one stood taller than the rest, casting a shadow over the battlefield like a silent judge.
Jake's voice came through again, layered with excitement.
"Alright, alright! As you can see, this year's battlefield is a bit more vertical than usual! That's right—welcome to the Hill Conquest Format!"
The stadium buzzed. Students leaned forward. Even the upper seats began murmuring.
Jake gestured upward as the floating screen shifted, showing detailed projections of the terrain below.
"Here's how it works! Five major peaks. That's right—five! And at the top of each one…"
He grinned as the screen zoomed in, revealing five ancient-looking flags, each glowing faintly with arcane runes.
"…is a relic flag."
The co-host, Elira, stepped in smoothly, her voice calm and clear.
"Holding a flag earns you triple the points of a normal participant. But you don't have to capture one to win—just staying atop any hill earns you steady points over time. The higher you climb, the more you gain."
The crowd's energy shifted—less cheering now, more focused. Strategic. Calculating.
"But," she continued, her voice dipping lower.
The glowing screen above flickered again—this time showing a countdown of 30:00 next to the five flags. Arcane lines swirled around them.
"After thirty minutes, one of these five relics… will reveal itself as the True Flag."
A beat passed.
Jake's voice dropped into a dramatic hush.
"Whoever holds that True Flag until the end of the match…"
Elira finished the thought, eyes sharp.
"Will earn more points than everyone else combined."
A chorus of shocked voices echoed through the stands. Some gasped. Others swore. A few even stood up to shout their predictions.
"Yes, yes!" Jake called out, arms wide. "One flag. One final push. One shot at the top! If you thought hiding in a bush with a barrier scroll was gonna save you—think again!"
The camera zoomed in on the flags once more, their glowing symbols shifting, almost as if reacting to the rising tension.
Elira stepped back, one hand on her hip.
"Five hills. Five relics. One true flag."
And with that, the final ten seconds on the screen began to count down.
The arena buzzed with energy as the final seconds on the countdown ticked away. Inside the preparation zone—just behind the massive stone gates that would soon rise—participants stood tense, eyes forward, weapons and scrolls in hand.
Among them, Kaine stood silently near the edge of the group, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as always. His black uniform clung to his lean form, his red eyes half-lidded in calm disinterest, even as the ground trembled slightly from the shifting arena beyond.
Just beside him, Amelia adjusted the silver clasps on her magecoat, the pink of her hair tied back in a sharp tail, her badge of nobility gleaming faintly. Her gaze flicked to him. She smirked—just a little. Enough to tease. Enough to test.
"So," she said, casually twirling a charm crystal between her fingers, "want to team up? I promise I'll carry you if it gets too rough."
Kaine didn't even turn his head.
"Only if you don't slow me down."
The words were simple, flat—delivered with the usual calm coldness that had become his signature.
Amelia's smile twitched.
A faint crease appeared at the corner of her mouth, and she looked away with a sharp exhale through her nose.
"You're still such a prick."
"Mm."
She didn't deny she was still going to team up with him. She just rolled her eyes and stepped forward to stand beside him, their shoulders nearly touching.
"Fine," she said at last. "Just don't go running off again without telling me. Last time, I spent twenty minutes cleaning up your mess."
"Was it a mess if you survived?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Kaine."
He shrugged slightly.
"I'll let you know if I die."
Amelia's lips tightened, then she clicked her tongue and looked away again.
The countdown above burned down from 00:10 to 00:03...
BOOOOM—
The moment the final second on the countdown struck zero, the colossal gates surrounding the preparation zones began to grind open. Heavy slabs of enchanted stone rose upward, revealing the new battlefield in all its brutal glory. Dust swirled. The light of the rising sun spilled across the jagged terrain—sharp cliffs, winding ridges, narrow bridges of rock between towering hills that scraped the edge of the barrier-dome high above.
The entrance tournament of Astrea Academy had begun.
And chaos followed immediately.
[COMMENTARY BOX – STADIUM CENTER]
Jake was practically screaming.
"AND THEY'RE OFF! The gates are open! Look at that—look at that spread! We've got movement from all sides already, folks!"
Elira spoke right after, her voice steadier but no less engaged.
"Formation shifts on the southern hill already—looks like we've got a group from House Meryll grouping up. That's… yes, that's Theo Meryll with the glaive, moving with three outer-territory nobles. Classic strategy—go high and hold ground."
The floating screens above shifted, zooming in on one of the middle hills where four boys were charging together. At the front was a blond-haired youth in ornate armor with green and silver trim. His weapon was long, graceful, a rune-etched glaive that pulsed with wind affinity.
[THEO MERYLL – POV]
Theo sprinted ahead of his makeshift squad, boots crunching on the gravel path spiraling up the hill. His eyes scanned the height, calculating.
We take the middle first. Draw the attention. Then bait the real elites out.
It was standard open-field control: establish dominance with numbers, threaten with formation, but always be ready to fall back. His three teammates weren't family, but they were disciplined enough. That was enough for a front-line siege.
Until—
"INCOMING!"
A crack of thunder boomed across the cliffs.
Theo dove sideways just in time to avoid a bolt of lightning that arced from the sky—no, from a rune-scarred arrow. One of the beastkin archers—someone from the southern kingdoms. Wind affinity with enchantment trick shots.
He landed hard and rolled, eyes narrowing. "Focus the peaks. Don't engage!"
But his words were drowned out by the roar of combat below.
[ARENA CROWD – VARIOUS SECTIONS]
The spectators exploded in noise.
Gasps. Cheers. Roars.
Someone near the upper-left shouted, "That's the boy from House Karkal! The lightning archer! Damn—he's already taking shots?!"
"Is that the orc girl? The one from the ironblood clans—she just picked someone up and threw him!"
Further up, in the skybox booths, nobles whispered behind enchanted veils. Some were already placing second-round bets, scribbling new names onto floating ledgers.
[VVIP ROOM – SKY SUITE]
Oriana Esraelle leaned forward in her chair, a wine glass untouched beside her.
Her sky-blue eyes followed the screen with amusement.
"Too chaotic. None of the hill squads will hold. They sent in brutes, not tacticians."
She glanced toward the side, where Iris Ferndale sat in silence, fingers steepled in front of her mouth, her eyes locked on the screen. A bead of tension sat in her throat.
Oriana chuckled. "Still waiting to see him? Your little brother?"
Iris didn't answer.
[UNKNOWN PARTICIPANT – POV]
"Shit—!"
A boy in leather armor skidded down the side of a hill as a sheet of ice exploded outward from a pale girl standing twenty meters up. She wasn't even panting—her hands moved in silent, practiced rhythm, carving sigils into the air with every motion.
She's freezing the whole damn path?!
Someone screamed behind him. Another slipped and fell—landing hard, his mana barrier cracking.
[STADIUM FLOOR – DIFFERENT ZONE]
Dust kicked up beneath Kaine's boots as he darted into the field, his steps light, precise. Amelia followed closely, her cloak fluttering behind her, a rune scroll in each hand.
They didn't rush a hill like the others.
They moved diagonally—avoiding immediate engagement, ducking under a ridge that provided a clean line of sight to the largest peak. They weren't here to fight first.
Amelia whispered, "We hold this flank. Wait for the desperate ones."
Kaine said nothing.
But his eyes flicked to the center, to the massive peak where five flags shimmered faintly under sunlight and protective wards. He could feel it. Somewhere up there… the True Flag waited.
[COMMENTARY BOX]
Jake was grinning ear to ear.
"There it is! Chaos on all five hills! And folks, just look at the movement across the second ridge—those aren't solo players anymore, that's the start of actual team tactics!"
Elira gestured to the screen, her voice rising just a bit.
"And there's our first confirmed clash! Western gate squad just ran straight into one of the Frostwing siblings—look at that ice magic! They didn't even see it coming!"
[UNKNOWN PARTICIPANT – POV]
And at the far end—on the last gate that was opened long ago—one last figure stood at the threshold.
Just standing there, watching.