As Magnus waited for the arena doors to open, he reviewed a few critical details of the tournament he had signed up for.
First and foremost, it was called the Starry-Eyed Bout. It had two leagues:
One for youths like Magnus; the Youth League.
And another for the veterans and adults; the Superior League.
The core of the tournament was centred on combat. Fighters would be placed against each other to battle it out. There was a catch though.
Aside from winning the fight, to truly win, it must be done in the most flamboyant, flashiest, magnificent, manner. Hence the word, "Starry-Eyed."
It was meant to be entertaining, and the judges could give points that could elevate you into the championships just by looking good. The audience is also capable of voting, and their votes go on to help the final score.
Winning the combat area of the battle but losing in beauty was a common sight in this tournament, which made some people annoyed.
Combat was not about looking good, after all.
Unfortunately for them, or perhaps fortunately for the rest of the fighters who hadn't complained, the prizes were amazing.
Winning first place, one could receive a bottle of Gene Enhancement liquid, usually used to purify your genes to make it so that any genetic defects are minimized. Longevity was a small by-product of the fluid, boosting one's lifespan up to a hundred and fifty years at the very least.
As for second place, it was a MagiTech weapon of choice. A lot less grand, but costly nonetheless. After all, every fighter needed a weapon.
From third place and onward, the rewards consisted of cash, gems, and other small trinkets. The participation award was already around a hundred dollars, and the third placer could gain at least 5000 dollars.
And that was only for the Youth League. Magnus no longer looked at the Superior League's prizes, but he already knew that they were gonna be good.
When the arena doors finally opened, Magnus followed the other participants into the arena. He commanded gravity as he went, trying to make it look like he was walking at first.
After a while though, he gave up. He looked even more unnatural than simply levitating off the ground.
'Hopefully flying could give me some points, right?' Magnus thought wryly as the stares he was getting got worse.
.
.
.
The participants of the Starry-Eyed Bout all stayed in an underground waiting room beneath the arena. When their battles started, they would be transported by a platform and elevated onto the stage.
When Magnus arrived, the first thing he did was scan the room.
'Indeed this is the Youth League,' He thought to himself.
There were patches of uniformly coloured clothes here and there, worn by teens who were likely still in high school. They were the representatives of their respective schools and Magnus' future oponents.
Since the cutoff age of the Youth League was 21, Magnus, was, in fact, around the middle part of the age spectrum at 17. The youngest people here were about 14 years old.
'That age-measurement thing was an interesting device,' Magnus belatedly realised that the tool they used on him upon his registration was amazing. He was given a super accurate measurement of how long he had been alive, seemingly not including the time that had passed on Tyrm.
It was weird, but Magnus was getting used to it with every day he spent as a cat— he realised that cats, if they had minds like humans, could learn quite a lot of things.
Some good, some bad, and some that are simply... questionable.
"Welcome, all you citizens of Quarteridge!"
An announcer's voice suddenly boomed throughout the stadium, forcing Magnus' attention onto the screens at the centre of the room.
"Today marks the 113th Starry-Eyed Bout! Your favourite show has come back another time, and will continue to do so in the future!.."
It turned out to be some opening ceremony that Magnus actually enjoyed watching. The announcer talked about the brief history of the tournament and greeted the guests both in the stadium and those watching from their Holovisions.
"Last but not least, we thank our MagiTech sponsors, as usual, for the amazing job they are doing in making our continent a more prosperous place!"
MagiTech. The creators of technology that mixed magic into their craftsmanship. A faction that Magnus found all-encompassing.
MagiTech was everywhere, and even other factions had no choice but to use a lot of their products. From small box-based holographic televisions (Holovisions) to comfort carriages, the Spirit Energy-powered arena they were currently using to the little phones they all owned.
Everything MagiTech. Only MagiTech.
It was a monopoly.
And it was all due to the presence of a special Blessing in their faction. A Blessing that has now passed, and all that was left behind were legacies aplenty for all craftsmen to figure out.
{=[ Mechanical Sorcerer ]=}
That was the name of the Blessing.
No other magic-based or technology-based Blessing has ever come close to the capabilities gifted by Mechanical Sorcerer. MagiTech was hoping for another one though, as interpreting the genius of the Mechanical Sorcerer was a nigh-impossible task.
They had not even scratched 10% of their work.
If they could not find a second Mechanical Sorcerer from the talented youths all over the world, they would surely cry themselves to sleep every night. They were desperate to find new blood.
Similar events were happening to many of the factions, in fact. Magnus heard all about it.
The people who had founded them were dying of old age one by one. And no heir with a similar power to those founding members was left behind.
After all, Blessings were not naturally genetic. Although the age-old family clans who are factions of their own began because of bloodline Blessings, normal factions did not have the same.
Magnus learned about all of that just by being a cat. It was so much more than he could have achieved if he stayed as a human and talked to people.
After all, animal blessings were the rarest of the rare. In fact, it was just a myth. There have been zero records of anyone being able to transform into a non-humanoid being.
Anyways, after the opening ceremony came the first battle of the tournament. Magnus found a place to 'sit down' and watch.
'It's going to be a long day,' He thought to himself as he eyed all of the students, 'I'm going to cream them for sure.'
A small smile grew on Magnus' lips the more he watched the battles.
'Hehe,' It even turned into a little laugh whenever he saw some release their abilities. Until he realised,
'Wait... I'm not as capable as I was in Tyrm anymore... What's my Blessing's conversion rate from Spirit Energy to Gravitational pull?' He worriedly asked himself.
'Why didn't I test these things beforehand...?'
It had totally gone over his head that he was going to fight with only his current body's abilities.
Javelin and Klaris both couldn't be shown to the world as people would recognize them. Only Magnus had a fresh face.
'"I guess I'll just see how far I go for fun then," Magnus eventually muttered in a mix of resignation and excitement.
He was going to fight hard and see where he would place.
.
.
.
An hour passed before it was Magnus' turn. Seven battles had gone by since then, and each battle had been beautiful to watch.
Magnus was able to admire what the posters and adverts meant by making things as flamboyant as possible.
It truly was so. From moving statues to light shows of purple, green and brown. Music was a thing as well, and so were the most majestic weapon arts.
The shoutcaster for the fights also contributed greatly to the viewing experience. He likely had some espionage-based Blessing that allowed him to spy on the fighters he was narrating for. The names of techniques, a vague description of its abilities and whatnot had always been coming out of his mouth.
It was as if everything was a performance the entire time and he had memorised every detail beforehand.
Magnus was almost more in awe of the shoutcaster than the contestants.
"Next up! Fighter No. 262 versus our old friend, the young and fiery Valentine Hunt!" The announcer's voice boomed as Magnus stepped up to the platform.
Opposite of him was a boy with red-dyed black hair and a playful expression. He was dressed in a pristine white uniform.
Clearly, a student.
"Hm?" Valentine noticed Magnus' eyes on him. "Ah... A dropout student in need of money... How unfortunate."
"..?" Magnus tilted his head in bafflement as if to say, 'What made you make that connection?'
In his mind though, he thought about how he had taken off his mask due to the requirements of the tournament. With his youthful face and his dirty clothes that was half a uniform, especially since his shirt had a special print, perhaps being labelled as a dropout wasn't so far off.
Still, though, he wasn't expecting to be seen as such by his opponent.
'How interesting. Do I look that less threatening than Klaris?' Magnus thought as he continued glaring in Valentine's direction.
It made the latter uncomfortable despite the announcer flattering him by announcing his achievements. Normally, he would be filled with pride instead of this meagre discomfort.
"Valentine Hunt, student of the great Havenboiled Academy, Quarteridge's best academy! A golden egg of the city! As the first of his class, he's also a notch above his peers and a wonderful user of flames. Let's give him a round of applause!"
All of those words were being given to Valentine as if the announcer was trying to please someone, but the subject in question was unnerved by the deadpan expression of his opponent as they engaged in a stare-off.
"Don't hurt yourself," Magnus finally said as their platforms made it to the stage.
"Oho? Is that a little banter I hear from our two contestants? Fighter 262! How brave! At 17 years old, to have such bravery is commendable for sure!"
The announcer instantly caught wind of the tension between Magnus and Valentine.
"But remember, this is a battle of wonders and artistry! Getting too heated will only ruin your appearances so do keep that in mind, alright boys?"
The announcer continued,
"The battle will have the same rules as before. No maiming, no killing, and surrendering will count as a loss in combat. You have 15 seconds before the start of the match!"