The three months of rigorous training passed swiftly. Mortis's dedication had not waned for even a moment. Each day he pushed himself to the brink, mastering the nuances of his spells, and refining his strategies. He had transformed the training area into his own personal battleground, where he anticipated and countered every conceivable scenario he could think of.
One morning, a powerful voice echoed throughout the academy, resonating through the stone walls and reaching every corner. "All students, assemble in the central courtyard!" the voice commanded. Mortis recognized it as the Head of the Academy, Kaelith. He swiftly gathered his belongings and made his way to the courtyard.
The central courtyard was a vast open space, surrounded by towering structures of the academy. Students from all ranks and specialties were already gathered, their expressions a mixture of excitement and apprehension. A raised platform stood at the center, and upon it was the Head of the Academy, a figure of authority and power.
Kaelith, a tall, imposing figure with silver hair and piercing eyes, stepped forward. His voice carried effortlessly across the courtyard. "I trust you have all prepared to the best of your abilities. The time has come for the tournament to commence. This will be a test of not only your power but the entire academy's power."
Kaelith gestured to a series of strange ancient runes etched into the platform. "The tournament will take place in a specially prepared realm, a microcosm of our world, designed for your safety and to protect us from potential enemies who might seek to disrupt the event." He raised his hands, and the runes began to glow with a brilliant light. Slowly, a portal formed next to him, swirling with ethereal energy.
"Step through the portal," Kaelith instructed. "Further details will be provided on the other side."
Mortis watched as the students began to step through the portal, their figures dissolving into the shimmering energy. He waited until most had gone through, ensuring he was not caught in the initial rush. When it was his turn, he stepped forward confidently, the portal's energy enveloping him.
A brief moment of disorientation struck him as he transitioned through the portal. His head throbbed with a dull pain, but he shook it off. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing on a vast plain. The landscape was stark and empty, except for a colossal structure in the distance that dominated the horizon. It was a colosseum, eerily reminiscent of the ancient arenas from his original world but larger and more imposing.
Before he could take in more of the surroundings, a figure appeared before the group. He was a magus of rank 1, his robes adorned with symbols of power and authority. "Welcome," he began, his voice resonating with magical amplification. "I am Magus Ignatius, and I will be guiding you to the Colosseum. Follow me."
The students marched towards the Colosseum, and Mortis used the time to analyze his surroundings. The air was thick with magical energy, and he could sense the wards and protections that enveloped the realm. It was clear that an immense amount of mana had been used to create and maintain this place.
Upon entering the Colosseum, Mortis's eyes were drawn to the center of the open arena, a massive circular platform surrounded by high walls and spectator stands. Students from the other five academies were already present, their expressions mirroring the mix of determination and tension that he felt. Mortis and his fellow students were led to their designated area, next to the Academy of the Forsaken.
The air buzzed with anticipation as the students took their places. An announcer's voice boomed from a high balcony at the edge of the arena. "Welcome, all, to the grand tournament, a joint effort by the six greatest academies to foster friendly relations and ignite the spirit of competition. The rules are simple and fair."
The announcer continued, outlining the structure of the tournament. "The first part of the tournament will be a series of deathmatches. Six students, each from a different academy, will face off in every match. There will be five matches occurring simultaneously on separate platforms. The winners of these matches will advance to the next round."
Mortis listened intently, absorbing every detail. The announcer went on, "After the deathmatches, the second and final phase will commence. Opponents will be drawn by lot, and a randomly created pyramid structure will determine the progression until only two students remain to fight in the final match."
A murmur spread through the crowd as the announcer emphasized the final point. "There is no restriction on the power levels within the apprentice ranks, from rank 1 to rank 5. However, intentional killing is prohibited. Accidents may happen, but any deliberate act will result in immediate disqualification and punishment in any form selected by referees."
Mortis's eyes narrowed. The rule about intentional killing was a significant constraint, but he knew how to navigate it. He would ensure his attacks were powerful enough to incapacitate without crossing the line into fatality. He glanced around, assessing the competition. Most were nervous, some were overly confident, but all were formidable in their own right.
The announcer's voice rang out once more, "Those who wish to withdraw may do so now. The rest, prepare yourselves. The first matches will begin shortly."
Mortis remained still, his mind a whirlwind of calculations and strategies. He had trained relentlessly for this moment. He would rely on his own strength, his meticulous planning, and his ruthless pragmatism. The time for action had arrived, and Mortis Nacht was ready to face whatever shit lay ahead.
But a ripple of uncertainty passed through the other gathered students. Mortis observed as a few from each academy hesitated before reluctantly stepping back, clearly overwhelmed by the pressure. The number of withdrawals was small but noticeable, leaving the remaining students with a heightened sense of determination.
The announcer waited patiently until the last of the withdrawing students had left the arena. Then, with a nod, he addressed the remaining participants. "Very well, for those of you who remain, there is no turning back. Prepare yourselves for the challenge ahead."
He gestured toward the six magi, who stepped forward, each holding a magical orb that glowed with an ethereal light. The magi positioned themselves, each standing near their respective academy's designated area. The orbs in their hands pulsed with a rhythmic energy.
The announcer's voice echoed through the Colosseum once more. "These orbs will be used for the drawing of lots. Each orb contains numbers from one to fifty. Each student will draw a number, and each number can only be drawn once per academy. This process will determine the groups for the deathmatches."
A murmur spread through the crowd as the students processed this information. Mortis's mind raced with the possibilities. The random draw would add an element of unpredictability to the tournament, but he was confident in his abilities to adapt.
"Each academy, form a line in front of your designated magus," the announcer instructed. "You will draw your number one at a time."
The students from each academy began to line up in front of their respective magi. Mortis found himself in the middle of the line, waiting his turn with a sense of controlled anticipation. The line moved steadily as each student approached the magus, placed their hand on the orb, and drew their number.
As Mortis's turn approached, he took a deep breath, focusing his mind. When he reached the front of the line, the magus held out the glowing orb. Mortis placed his hand on its surface, feeling a slight tingle of magical energy. He closed his eyes briefly, then withdrew his hand to reveal a small slip of parchment with the number 23 written on it.
He glanced at the number, a sense of calm washing over him. It was a number like any other, and he would face whatever challenges came his way with the same ruthless precision he had always relied on.
Once all the students had drawn their numbers, the announcer's voice filled the colosseum again. "Students who drew numbers 1 to 5, remain in the arena. The rest of you, proceed to the stands and await your turn while observing the matches."
Mortis looked at his parchment once more before making his way to the stands. He found a seat with a clear view of the arena, where the first group of students was already assembling. The atmosphere was charged with excitement and tension as the first matches were about to begin.
Mortis settled into his seat, his mind already analyzing the first group of participants. The tournament had officially begun, and Mortis Nacht was ready for the trials that lay ahead.