The tournament mansion stood as a colossal testament to the world of professional mage battles. Within its walls, the Arena, training gym, medical facilities, and production control room bustled with activity. Tony, a young mage with dreams of competing, entered the mansion, his heart racing with anticipation.
Dressed in a crisp blue top and black jeans, Tony's curly hair was meticulously groomed. The grandeur of the hall overwhelmed him, leaving him disoriented, but he soon spotted a woman who appeared to be a staff member.
"Excuse me, miss," Tony approached her.
"Yes, sir, how can I assist you?" she inquired politely.
"I'm a bit lost. Can you direct me to the registration room?" he asked.
With a warm smile, she guided him, "Certainly, just continue forward a bit and take the second door on your left."
"Thank you," Tony followed her directions and found himself in a room filled with aspiring mages, all waiting to register. They eyed him curiously, noting his slight frame and apparent lack of physical prowess.
After a considerable wait, it was finally Tony's turn to register. The official conducting the registration eyed him skeptically.
"You're here for the tournament as well?" the official asked, surprised.
"Yes, I am," Tony replied, trying to exude confidence.
"You don't quite look like a mage. Are you sure you'll survive in there? The competition can be fierce," the official remarked, eliciting laughter from the other mages.
Tony stood his ground, saying, "Don't judge me by my appearance, sir. I'm more qualified for this tournament than you might think."
"Very well. What's your name, Talent, grade, and level?" the official inquired.
"I'm Tony Wilcox, an air mage, grade B, level five," Tony replied, his heart pounding. He had lied about his abilities, being a grade D at level zero.
"Alright, it's your life. An air Talent can be powerful if used correctly. Good luck," the official complimented, and Tony nodded before exiting.
Leaving the mansion, Tony felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. He had registered for the tournament, but he knew he was the weakest mage there. The odds were stacked against him, and he questioned his decision.
Presidential mansion, a grand chamber had been transformed into Flash's training ground. Within its marbled confines, the talented mage was undergoing a grueling regimen, sweat cascading down his furrowed brow as he pushed himself to the limits in his quest to master the art of controlling fire.
"Again!" barked his private coach, a stern and demanding figure, wholly unsatisfied with Flash's efforts thus far.
Frustration swelled within Flash like a tempest as he struggled to harness the volatile element. He bellowed, "Fire fist, explosion!" unleashing a tempestuous blaze that lashed out, striking a stoic metal statue. The flames danced wildly, yet his coach's expression remained unmoved, unimpressed by the dazzling display of power.
"That's still not good enough, Flash. You must do better," the coach admonished, his voice echoing through the vast chamber.
"I've run out of enatra!" Flash protested, exhaustion creeping into his voice, using the term mages employed to describe their depleting energy source.
"That's no excuse. You're only making feeble excuses," the coach retorted sternly, his eyes piercing through Flash.
In a surge of frustration and pent-up energy, Flash challenged his coach with defiance, his voice seething, "Why don't I test my skills on you?"
The coach, unshaken by Flash's outburst, replied with calm authority, "You should learn some manners."
With anger coursing through his veins like molten lava, Flash's impulsiveness overcame him, and he demanded a duel. The coach reluctantly agreed, their gazes locked in a tense standoff. When Flash unleashed his fiery attack, the coach effortlessly extinguished it with a flick of his hand. Flash watched in awe and humility as the coach exhibited his formidable grade A fire mage skills.
"Explosion!" The coach roared, unleashing a cataclysmic blast of flames that engulfed a nearby metal figure, reducing it to molten slag within seconds. Flash, realizing the vast chasm that separated their abilities, could only watch in horror.
Suddenly, an unexpected presence disrupted the intense atmosphere. Charlotte, Flash's twin sister, gracefully descended from above, her arrival unannounced but not unexpected to her family.
"How long have you been there?" Flash asked, surprise lacing his voice.
"The whole time," Charlotte replied, her tone carrying an air of superiority as she added insult to injury, "Nice skills, but you'll have to do better if you want to reach level six like me."
With a condescending toss, she hurled a snack at Flash, hitting him squarely in the face, adding to his mounting frustration. Their twin bond, it seemed, was often marred by their clashing personalities and sibling rivalry.
Two days swiftly slipped through Tony's fingers like grains of sand, leading up to the long-awaited day of the tournament's arrival. In secret, Tony had registered for the event, keeping it hidden from his own family, fearing their disapproval. As he stepped into the bustling tournament hall, the air was thick with anticipation, and it crackled with the vibrant energy of mages donning extravagant and colorful costumes. Tony, on the other hand, chose to go shirtless, his bare torso revealing the visible anxiety etched into his expression. Doubts about his decision writhed within him, gnawing at his resolve. How could a grade D mage with no skills possibly compete against the likes of grade B mages?
The moment of truth approached with a disheartening swiftness. Tony's name echoed through the hall, announced by the commentator's voice, and his heart raced like a horse galloping toward an uncertain finish line. But as the commentator uttered the name of his opponent, a chilling realization gripped Tony's soul like a vice: Flash Danny, the son of the tournament's host.
"Oh no," Tony gasped, his voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd.
Among the spectators, his classmates wore expressions of shock and confusion, their whispers cutting through the air like sharpened daggers.
"When did Tony become a grade D?"
"Does he have a death wish?"
Stepping into the arena, Tony was met with a cacophony of mocking laughter that seemed to reverberate through his very bones. Flash, already present in the arena, towered over him with an aura of disdain.
"The battle may now commence," the commentator's voice boomed, "but remember, this isn't a death match; win by submission!"
Flash couldn't resist taunting Tony, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What were you thinking, Tiny? Has poverty made you lose your mind?"
Tony, his pride stung, retorted defiantly, "It's none of your business, Flash. I'm here to pay my mom's hospital bills."
Flash, feeling insulted by Tony's mere presence in the arena, welcomed the opportunity to defeat his seemingly helpless opponent. Tony, driven by desperation and an unwavering determination to ease his family's suffering, launched a feeble punch, but it was as if he was trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. Flash easily evaded it, his movements fluid and effortless. With a cruel precision, he pressed on Tony's already-burnt wound, inflicting more pain.
"The air mage strikes first," the commentator noted, his words echoing Tony's inner turmoil.
With a scowl etched onto his face, Flash retaliated with a powerful uppercut that sent Tony sprawling to the ground. The crowd erupted into cheers for Flash, their admiration for his skill evident in their thunderous applause. However, among the sea of faces, there was one exception—Charlotte. She watched the spectacle unfold with a mixture of sympathy and understanding, realizing that poverty had driven Tony to this point, and she couldn't help but feel compassion for his struggle.
"Come on, get up!" Flash taunted, a wicked grin on his face, standing tall over Tony, who struggled to regain his footing. Tony, determined not to back down, mustered every ounce of his remaining strength and launched another punch at Flash, but it was feeble, like a desperate last stand.
Flash, as if he were toying with a ragdoll, effortlessly seized Tony by the collar of his tattered uniform and slammed him back to the unforgiving ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, their enthusiasm matched only by the commentator's vivid description of the one-sided brawl unfolding before their eyes.
"The battle seems heavily one-sided," the commentator remarked with a mix of awe and concern in his voice, as Tony's resilience failed to match the power and precision of Flash's blows. Tony, his face a mess of bruises and cuts, cried out in agony, yet his spirit refused to yield.
But Flash showed no mercy; he was relentless. As Tony mustered every ounce of courage for another feeble punch, Flash swiftly countered, his strikes landing like thunderclaps. Bruised and battered, Tony cried out once more, but it seemed as if his defiance were futile.
"The battle is over! Tony Wilcox appears to be down for the count. Master Flash can stop his assault as we move to the next round," the commentator declared, his words painting a grim picture of Tony's predicament.
Ignoring the commentator's call to end the fight, Flash continued to beat Tony mercilessly, his fists a blur of fury. In the audience, Charlotte, Tony's loyal friend, couldn't bear to watch any longer. She finally couldn't hold back her anguish.
"That's enough, Flash!" she yelled, her voice piercing through the cacophony of the crowd, drawing everyone's attention.
Flash, momentarily distracted, turned to Charlotte with a smirk, his eyes filled with disdain. "I won't leave you without another burn mark," he threatened, his words dripping with malice, before he launched a devastating fire attack at Tony.
As the flames raced toward him, Tony felt the searing heat and thought, "So this is it? This is how it all ends. Unfair and biased, but at least I'll be free from this cruel world. But my family... it can't be." His consciousness wavered, the world around him dimming as he went black, his inner thoughts consumed by the unknown realm he had just entered.
[Host found…Imperial System Awakening] [System Loading…Loading complete] [Good day Tony Wilcox]