After leaving the private training room, Aamir couldn't shake the strange feeling that had taken hold of him. It was as if the very air around him had changed. The gravity outside felt lighter—almost unnaturally so. His steps carried an unusual ease as he walked toward the sprawling campus of Nalanda University, his body adapting to the environment without even trying.
He covered the distance from the training hall to the campus in no time, his movements fluid and effortless. It felt almost surreal, as though the intense training he'd endured had rewired his very being.
He flexed his fingers and tested his reflexes as he walked, clenching and unclenching his fists. His arms felt weightless, yet brimming with strength. "Is this what real progress feels like?" he murmured to himself. "It's as if the weight of the world has been lifted."
The memory of the grueling hours in the private training room flashed through his mind. The intense gravity, the sweat-soaked floor, the constant struggle—it had all pushed him beyond his limits. But now, he understood why. The results were undeniable.
Just as he was lost in thought, the loud, booming voice of an announcement system interrupted him.
"Attention, all students! Please report to the main campus immediately. Those already on campus, please maintain peace and order as we gather. This is a university-wide announcement."
The sudden announcement stirred the quiet atmosphere of the campus. Students spilled out from buildings, dormitories, and training grounds, forming streams of people heading toward the central campus square. The air buzzed with curiosity and speculation, a lively energy rippling through the crowd.
"What do you think this is about?" one student asked, clutching a battered grimoire.
"Probably another test," someone replied, adjusting their robes. "They never let us rest, do they?"
"Maybe it's about the new transfers," another suggested. "I heard some elites from other academies were joining us."
Aamir followed the flow of students, his curiosity piqued. The crowd eventually gathered in front of a large stage at the heart of the campus. The square was a masterpiece of architecture, lined with towering pillars engraved with ancient runes, and a grand fountain at its center that sparkled in the sunlight.
Standing on the stage was an imposing figure who radiated authority and charisma. His presence alone was enough to command silence. As the murmurs died down, the man raised a hand, his sharp gaze sweeping across the crowd.
"Greetings, students," he began, his deep voice carrying effortlessly over the square. "I am Vardhan, as most of you already know. Today, I bring you news of a great opportunity—an opportunity to shape your destiny."
The crowd leaned in, their attention riveted.
"Every five years, the twelve greatest nations of Aryavrata come together to hold a grand tournament. This is no ordinary competition. The World Tournament of Wizardry and Warfare is the pinnacle of honor for young warriors and scholars alike. It is a chance to prove your strength, your intellect, and your worth on the global stage."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Even Aamir felt a surge of excitement at the mention of the World Tournament. He had heard stories about it before—tales of unparalleled glory, unimaginable rewards, and the honor of standing among legends.
Vardhan's voice grew more intense as he continued, his eyes gleaming with conviction. "The twelve best students from Nalanda University will be chosen to represent us in this prestigious event. These champions will carry the hopes and pride of our university and our nation. They will fight not only for personal glory but for the honor of Aryavrata."
The crowd erupted in cheers, the atmosphere charged with energy and determination. The sheer magnitude of the opportunity sent waves of adrenaline through the students.
"But," Vardhan said, raising his hand again to quiet the crowd, "not everyone will have the privilege to stand among those twelve. To determine who is worthy, we will hold a tournament of our own—The Battle of the Grand Selection. In five days, the best and brightest among you will face each other in combat. Only the strongest twelve will emerge victorious."
The square erupted into a cacophony of voices.
"Five days!" one student exclaimed, gripping their staff tightly. "I need to refine my spells!"
Another student, a swordsman, smirked confidently, resting his hand on the hilt of his blade. "I've been waiting for this moment. Let's see who's worthy to stand on that stage."
Others weren't so optimistic. "Five days is not enough," a girl murmured, clutching her grimoire to her chest. "I'm not ready for something like this."
Nearby, a group of students whispered nervously. One of them leaned toward his friend, his voice low. "Did you hear about that guy in the private training room? They say he was fighting in twenty times normal gravity like it was nothing. What chance do we have against someone like that?"
"That's just a rumor," another replied, though his voice wavered.
"It's not a rumor," a third student said, his eyes wide. "My brother works at the training center. He saw it himself. That guy—Aamir, from Purushottampuri—he's a monster in the making."
The murmurs spread, and soon, Aamir's name was on many lips.
In the distance, a group of senior students exchanged glances, their expressions grim. One of them spoke in a low voice, his eyes narrowing. "This tournament isn't just about fame. It's about survival. If you're not strong enough, you don't belong in the World Tournament. We'll see who's ready—and who's not."
Amidst the chaos, Riya stood quietly at the edge of the crowd. Her sharp eyes scanned the square until they landed on Aamir. She smiled softly, a glimmer of pride and faith in her gaze.
Aamir stood still amidst the noise, his mind racing. The opportunity to participate in the World Tournament was a dream for many. But for him, it was more than that—it was a chance to test himself, to measure his abilities against the best in the world, and to carve out his place among legends.
"Five days," he muttered to himself, his voice firm. "Five days to get ready for a battle that could change everything."
He clenched his fists, the memories of his grueling training pushing him forward. The private training room had shown him his potential, but he knew there was still so much more to achieve. If he wanted to stand among the twelve, he would have to push himself harder than ever before.
As he turned to leave, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Looking around, he spotted a group of senior students whispering among themselves, their gazes fixed on him. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and caution, but Aamir met their stares head-on, his lips curling into a smirk.
"Looks like word's already spreading," he thought, his confidence unwavering. "Good. Let them watch. I'll show them what I'm capable of."
With that, he headed back to his dorm, his mind already formulating a plan. The Grand Selection would be his first true test—a trial that could set him on the path to greatness. And he intended to give it everything he had.