The morning air over the Academy of Crowns was crisp, sharp with the scent of dew and the faint tang of spirit qi. From the high stands, the murmurs of a thousand voices merged into a constant hum, anticipation rolling like a living thing across the colossal arena.
The arena itself was a relic of an older age. Its obsidian tiles were etched with ancient silver runes that pulsed faintly, each one feeding into a vast circular sigil that spanned the entire battleground. This was the Heaven-Seizing Combat Array—a marvel of formation craft.
It would make today's matches unforgettable.
The array would amplify qi output by nearly twenty percent, heightening speed, force, and destructive power—but at a cost. Qi would drain faster, stamina would wither in minutes, and reckless combatants risked crippling backlash.
"Test of skill and endurance," Instructor Kael had said that morning, arms folded like a statue carved from iron. "The weak will be carried out before they even realize they've lost."
---
The announcer's voice rang out over the arena.
"First match! House Veyran versus House Morcar! Competitors, enter!"
Two figures strode into the light. The Veyran heir, a tall boy named Jarek, carried a glaive wreathed in crackling lightning qi. His opponent, Morcar's champion, moved like a coiled shadow, hands empty but layered with dense defensive qi that shimmered in faint gold.
Edran watched from the shaded competitor's stand, arms crossed.
Their opening stances are too rigid, he thought, eyes narrowing. Jarek's glaive is too high—it leaves his ribs open. And Morcar's guard… solid, but slow. He's planning to counter, not initiate.
The array flared. Runes blazed white as the combatants charged.
---
Jarek struck first—a downward slash that split the air with a crack like thunder. Qi surged outward, striking the golden barrier around Morcar's fighter and forcing him back. Dust plumed around their feet.
Too much qi in the first strike, Edran noted. He's bleeding his reserves already. If Morcar survives the next two exchanges, the tide will turn.
Morcar's fighter slid left, letting the glaive scrape harmlessly past, then drove a palm into Jarek's side. The amplified strike made the boy grunt and stagger—but it wasn't enough to break through.
The crowd roared at every clash, but Edran's gaze didn't leave their footwork. Jarek is pushing forward… forward… he's herding him toward the western edge of the formation.
He glanced at the glowing runes there—slightly brighter than the rest. An unstable node. Risky to fight near; a heavy hit could trigger an uncontrolled qi surge.
---
The fight dragged on for five minutes before Jarek finally capitalized on the trap. His glaive slammed into Morcar's guard, forcing him back two paces—right into the unstable node. The rune flashed violently.
A sudden eruption of qi burst upward, tossing the Morcar fighter off his feet. Before he could recover, Jarek's glaive rested at his throat.
"Victory! House Veyran!" the announcer bellowed.
The crowd cheered, but Edran leaned back, unimpressed. Predictable. The array is just as much a weapon as the blade. He used it well—but if Morcar had been paying attention, that trap would've never worked.
---
A shadow fell over him. He glanced up to see Taren smirking, arms folded loosely.
"Learning anything, little prince?" the older boy drawled. His tone dripped with mockery, though his eyes darted toward the arena—measuring, weighing.
Edran gave him a faint smile. "Plenty. Mostly about how not to waste my qi."
Taren's smirk tightened just a fraction before he moved on.
From the other side, Lira—the poised, sharp-eyed girl from House Selvan—gave Edran a small nod. No words. Just acknowledgment. He filed it away. In a place where everyone watched for weakness, even silence could speak volumes.
---
The announcer called the next match. More Houses clashed, each bout a whirlwind of amplified strikes and rapid exhaustion. One competitor collapsed mid-battle, qi burned out entirely. Another was blasted clean over the edge of the arena, his protective talisman barely activating in time.
Edran's attention was half on the fights, half inward. He let his own qi circulate quietly through his meridians, feeling the subtle thrum of his Dragon Vein Constitution—a low, steady pulse like the heartbeat of something ancient and vast.
With each slow breath, his reserves replenished faster than most cultivators could dream. The array would still tax him… but unlike the others, he could push harder, longer.
Patience. The longer they underestimate me, the better.
---
The crowd's noise swelled as the last preliminary match ended. Dust settled on the scorched tiles.
Then—
"Next match! House Kaelith… Edran Kaelith!"
The sound struck like a gong in his chest. Across the arena, his opponent's name was called—someone from House Varrow, their champion already swaggering to the center.
The runes began to glow again, brighter this time, casting silver light up into the morning sky. The air felt heavier, charged.
Edran stepped forward, each footfall echoing. The hum of the array vibrated through his bones.
In the stands, whispers rose—half dismissive, half curious.
He didn't hear them. His gaze was locked on the arena floor, on the sigils sparking like distant stars.
The match had not yet begun, but already, the storm was gathering.