As Zayn and Riven made their way through the winding hallways toward the training grounds, they eventually spotted Brynn and Callum already sparring.
"Guess we're not the only ones sneaking in some extra practice," Zayn grinned. "Might as well get some swings in, too."
He instructed his system to retrieve his sword, and with a flash, the gleaming blue blade materialized in his hand from his pocket dimension.
Brynn's eyes immediately locked onto it. "Whoa, what is that?"
Zayn held it up proudly, catching the light. "This? Mythril. Got it from my father."
Callum came closer, eyeing the sword with interest. "Mythril…I think I've seen some of it back home."
Just then, Elara and Thalia arrived, and, without a word, both of them bowed at Callum.
Zayn blinked, clearly baffled. "Uh…did I miss something? Why're you two bowing at him?"
Elara shot him an exasperated look. "You really are clueless, aren't you? Callum is the Atherian Prince. Prince Callum."
Zayn raised an eyebrow, glancing at Callum. "See, Callum? Even you think it's no big deal." He grinned as Elara glared back, clearly unimpressed.
Her eyes drifted to the sword Zayn held, clearly curious. "Where'd you get that, anyway?"
Zayn shrugged, his pride barely contained. "Told you, mythril from my dad. Family heirloom."
Elara simply huffed and rolled her eyes. "Typical."
The group split off, pairing up to train. Zayn and Riven took their places, with Zayn readying his sword against Riven's dagger. After weeks of hard training, the weapon felt like an extension of his arm.
They traded strikes and blocks, each testing the other's speed and strength, with Zayn noticing how much smoother his movements were now.
"Not bad," Riven said, narrowly dodging a swing. "Guess the strength boost paid off, huh?"
Zayn grinned. "Could say the same for you. Just try to keep up!"
Meanwhile, Elara and Thalia practiced nearby, moving through swift and fluid hand-to-hand forms. Zayn noticed neither of them carried weapons; their strikes alone had enough force to match the power of a blade.
The day went on like that, sparring sessions filling the training grounds. Each time they all gathered for meals, Zayn found himself studying the others, especially the Celestrians and the Ishayans, trying to glean any hint of their skills. Yet, he couldn't get a clear read on them.
As Zayn made his way back to his living quarters, he caught snippets of a hushed conversation coming from around the corner.
"…possible attacks on the city. With all the leaders gathered here…" a voice murmured.
A deeper voice replied with a scoff, "No one would be that reckless. And even if someone did try, do you really think anyone could touch Iris or Adonis?"
"Fair point," a woman's voice responded with a slight laugh.
The two figures walked off, their voices fading into the distance. Zayn lingered, his mind racing. Attacks on the city? What could possibly make someone bold enough to try that here of all places?
Lost in thought, he rounded the next corner—only to collide head-on with someone. Both of them tumbled to the floor.
"Sorry! I—uh—wasn't watching where I was going…" Zayn said, scrambling back to his feet, wincing slightly.
"No, it's my fault," the other guy replied, brushing himself off. He squinted as he picked up a pair of strange, thin-framed…objects. Zayn blinked, watching as he carefully put them on his face. "I…need these to see," the guy explained, catching Zayn staring.
Zayn tilted his head, still looking at the odd glasses. "I've never seen anything like that. They…help you see?"
The guy gave a quick, sheepish smile. "Yeah, I have bad eyesight, so these make things clearer. Pretty common back where I'm from." His gaze drifted briefly, a look of nostalgia softening his face. "In my homeland, people wear these all the time."
Zayn took a mental note of that, feeling an odd curiosity. "That so? Must be nice to have tools like that."
The guy gave a faint laugh. "Yeah…nice to have things you can count on when your eyes decide to give out."
They fell into a slightly awkward silence before the guy cleared his throat. "Oh, I'm Sang, by the way."
"Zayn," he replied with a smile. "Good to meet you, Sang. And hey, good luck in the fights tomorrow."
"Thanks." Sang nodded with a small smile, adjusting his glasses one more time. "Hope you make it through too, Zayn. Wouldn't mind crossing blades with someone from Myrria."
As Sang walked off, Zayn watched him go, intrigued by the guy's subtle strangeness. 'Ishaya…'
Zayn stood with his mother and younger brother, Kael, near the entrance to the arena. Kael, his eyes gleaming with ambition, clenched his fists. "Just you wait, Zayn. Next year, it'll be me out there," he declared with a wide grin. Zayn chuckled, ruffling Kael's hair.
"I'll hold you to that, little brother," Zayn said. Their mother watched them with pride, her eyes soft as she whispered words of encouragement.
"Remember, stay safe out there Zayn," she said.
Zayn nodded. "I will, Mother. I promise."
The arena was alive with the noise of excited spectators filling the stands. Positioned near the Myrrian School of Magic, it was a place steeped in history. The rulers of the five nations sat in the VIP dais, their presence commanding respect from all.
King Armiel, looking regal as ever, stepped forward to address the gathering. His voice rang clear. "To the brave young competitors before me, remember this tournament is not just a test of skill, but of heart and spirit. May you all prove your worth today."
Kael's eyes never left Zayn, his expression determined. "He's got this," Kael muttered, half to himself.
"Hope you're right," their mother added softly.
The human commentator from Myrria took over, his voice booming through the arena. "And with that, we begin today's tournament! I am Alaric Stonewell. Joining me are Atheria's own Lyria Windsong," he said, gesturing to the graceful elven woman, "and Nalia, from the Celestrian realm."
Lyria spoke up, her tone melodic, "Remember, competitors, only those level 2 or lower are eligible. Victory here is more than glory—it's a step into the future."
The Myrrian commentator, named Alaric Stonewell, stood tall, his voice echoing through the arena. "Welcome to the opening round of the tournament! For those unfamiliar, the rules are simple: victory is achieved by knocking out your opponent or getting them to admit defeat. We have healers on standby, so give it your all without holding back."
He paused, letting the anticipation build. "To ensure the safety of our audience, four Silver Mages will create an alternate battleground for each match. Competitors, be prepared for sudden matchups, as they are announced only moments before your battles. From the next round on, you'll have time to strategize, but today—expect the unexpected."
Zayn took a deep breath as Alaric continued, "The first match: Zayn of Myrria against Ragnar of Zarun. The second match: Luna of Celestria versus Uruk of Ishaya. Competitors, please step into the arena."
Zayn exchanged a look with Kael, who gave him a thumbs-up. "You've got this, brother," Kael said with a grin.
Zayn smirked. "I hope so. Watch closely."
The four Silver Mages moved forward, their movements synchronized. The air shimmered, and suddenly the world around Zayn shifted. The sky turned a light purple, stretching out endlessly over a flat, desolate terrain. The silence was almost unnerving.
"Where in Alcor…" Zayn muttered, glancing around. The voice of Alaric rang out from nowhere and everywhere. "Zayn and Ragnar, welcome to your battleground. This is an alternate space where you can fight freely without worry."
A low chuckle brought Zayn's attention forward. A tall, muscular figure stood before him, eyes narrowed and full of excitement. Ragnar flexed his arms, his wolfish ears twitching with anticipation. "So, you're the one they call Zayn? Let's see if you're as good as you think you are."
Zayn cracked his knuckles. "I don't plan on disappointing you."
Zayn rolled his shoulders, loosening up. Across the ring, Ragnar—a wolf beastkin with wild, silver-streaked hair and a low, prowling stance—grinned fiercely, eyes gleaming. They both took a moment to size each other up.
Thalia, standing beside Riven and Elara in the stands, tilted her head thoughtfully. "Think he'll win?"
Riven shrugged, a slight smirk on his face. "Based on what I've seen, Zayn's stronger than that guy."
Elara crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. "He'd better be. I won't forgive him if he embarrasses Myrria by losing in the first round."
Back in the arena, Zayn took a deep breath, and in his mind, the system spoke up: [Vector magic ready to activate.]
The field of vision around Zayn filled with countless tiny arrows, like faintly shimmering particles around Ragnar and himself. Then, in a flash, his perception sharpened, and the world slowed as the system activated Rapid Mind and Dual Focus simultaneously.
[100x processing activated. Optimal response rate achieved.]
Zayn's pulse quickened with excitement, knowing he had the edge.
Without warning, Ragnar leapt forward, a blur of movement that could have easily overwhelmed any other opponent. But to Zayn, each step was clear as day.
In the stands, Riven's eyes widened. "He's fast."
Thalia nodded, studying Ragnar's approach. "Zayn's got him in his sights though."
Zayn watched Ragnar's approach like a hawk, mentally commanding his vector magic. With a subtle gesture, he slowed Ragnar's movements, feeling his vectors locking onto the beastkin's trajectory. When Ragnar lunged, Zayn dodged gracefully, springing backward to avoid the incoming strike.
Then he swung his sword, the steel humming through the air at 50 times his normal strength. Ragnar dodged the attack, eyes flashing with a fierce thrill at the challenge.
[Recommendation: close-quarters combat advised. Higher efficiency for vector activation.]
"Getting bossy now, are you?
He grinned, gripping his sword tighter and closing the gap between them.
In the audience, Alaric's commentary roared, "An impressive dodge from Ragnar, but Zayn is quick to close in with a strike of his own! Both opponents are displaying incredible agility here!"
Elara huffed, muttering, "Well, at least he's keeping up."
Riven chuckled. "He's just getting warmed up."
Zayn locked eyes with Ragnar. The beastkin's gaze was sharp, calculating. This guy wasn't all brute force—he was studying Zayn's every move.
Ragnar suddenly grinned, low and challenging. "Not bad, human."
Zayn shrugged, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Oh, I'm just getting started. Care to keep up?"
Ragnar's growl was more a laugh than a threat, and he lunged forward again, claws bared. This time, Zayn didn't dodge. He leaned in, ducking low and driving a hard punch with vector-assisted strength toward Ragnar's ribs.
Ragnar twisted, taking the blow but using the momentum to spin and swipe at Zayn's side with his claws. Zayn caught the movement, pulling back just in time, but he could feel the rush of the near-miss.
Alaric's voice boomed through the arena, "And it's getting intense! Both fighters are getting closer, locked in a deadly dance—who will come out on top?"
The crowd roared with excitement as the combatants circled each other. Elara rolled her eyes, though she seemed a bit more invested. "Honestly, is he toying with Ragnar?"
Thalia raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe he's just waiting for the perfect opening."
Zayn could feel his system prompting him: [Vector magic can increase by a factor of 250. Currently holding back due to magic power conservation. Recommend 125x boost for further efficiency.]
"Now you're tempting me." Zayn grinned, holding back a laugh.
Back in the ring, Ragnar's eyes narrowed. "You're holding back, aren't you?"
Zayn raised a brow. "And if I am?"
With a low growl, Ragnar lunged forward, feinting to Zayn's left, then darting right. Zayn saw through the move, his processing sped up a hundredfold. He met Ragnar's lunge with a swift parry, throwing him off-balance and preparing for the next strike.
[125x boost authorized.]
In a blur of motion, Zayn struck, faster and harder than before. Ragnar barely dodged in time, his face lighting up with exhilaration. "Now that's more like it!"
Alaric, nearly breathless, called out, "Ladies and gentlemen, it seems Zayn is taking this to another level!"
The match had been going smoothly, but suddenly, Zayn felt a shift in the air.
Ragnar's eyes glinted with something feral as he stomped the ground, a crimson shockwave radiating from his body, cracking the arena floor beneath him. Zayn tightened his grip on his sword, squaring off in anticipation. But this time, there was something unmistakably different.
Before Zayn could react, Ragnar charged, faster and heavier than before, and swung a massive punch toward him. Zayn brought his sword up to parry, his movements boosted at 125x speed, but the force behind the punch overwhelmed him, hitting like a runaway boulder and sending him skidding backward several meters.
"Ugh—what was that?" Zayn muttered, glancing down at his hand. The impact had rattled his bones, even with his enhanced strength. The pain simmered in his muscles as he gritted his teeth.
[Detected anomaly. Probability indicates subject Ragnar's magic has altered his physical attributes.]
Zayn frowned. "You're saying his magic is what's making him this strong?"
[Affirmative. Current defensive output insufficient against the subject Ragnar's increased attack power.]
On the sidelines, Riven's eyes narrowed. "Something's off with that guy's strength. Zayn should've blocked that."
Elara scoffed, although there was a glimmer of worry in her eyes. "Well he'd better figure something out before he ends up eating dirt."
Zayn's eyes darted back to Ragnar, who now wore a triumphant smirk. The beastkin rolled his shoulders, seemingly enjoying this newfound edge. "Looks like I have the advantage now, doesn't it?" he taunted.
Zayn clenched his jaw, bracing himself. "Don't get too cocky."
But Ragnar only grinned wider, his gaze fixed on Zayn as he closed in, ready to deliver what looked like a finishing blow.
[Warning: Incoming high-impact attack. Defensive recommendations: inadequate.]