Kesa, who he hadn't seen in a while, was standing confidently across from her opponent. Her sword was clutched tightly in her hand as she watched her adversary intently. She wore a simple shirt beneath an iron chestplate, which was securely strapped on. Her leather black pants were reinforced with knee plating.
She assumed an offensive stance, her determined gaze locked onto her opponent. There was a slight twitch in her step as she prepared, a hint of nervousness visible as she tried to shake off the immense attention focused on her.
Across from her stood her opponent, Abigail. Hailing from Lumyndor, a mage-focused society and the youngest of the three human kingdoms, Abigail embodied her lineage of pyromancers. Her blazing red hair, olive skin, and golden eyes reflected her fiery heritage. She stood calmly, her expression a passive smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Since magic was deemed too powerful for actual students, the academy had enchanted Kesa's clothing to ensure any magical attacks wouldn't be fatal. It would hurt, but at least she wouldn't burn to death.
Kesa was ready. Her sword hung at her side as she prepared to get up close and personal. The moment the bell rang, she charged forward, her blade in hand, prepared for a powerful overhead slash. However, her attack was abruptly thwarted by a wall of fire. Instinctively, she dodged backward. A few strands of her hair were singed in the process, but she was otherwise unharmed, albeit a bit shaken.
Though her first attack failed, she didn't let it deter her. She advanced slowly, gauging her opponent's movements. Satisfied with her assessment, she made another move. Her blade hung by her side as she initiated a simple cut before feinting. Abigail instinctively blocked the feint, only to be struck by a thrust to her side.
Surprised, Abigail jumped back. Her reaction wasn't out of pain but astonishment. Tilting her head curiously, she quickly regained her composure and pointed her hand toward Kesa. From her palm, she unleashed a torrent of swirling flames.
Kesa tried to evade but was too slow; the flames caught her foot. She screamed in pain, tentatively touching the injured area. It wasn't burning, but the heat radiating from it caused considerable discomfort.
Taking advantage of the moment, Abigail unleashed another wave of fire. Flames crawled along the ground, erupting into a trail of fiery pillars as they raced toward Kesa.
Kesa rolled away just in time, quickly getting to her feet despite the pain in her injured foot. Ignoring the discomfort, she dashed in close, employing the same technique as before. Her breathing steadied as she prepared her strike. In an instant, her blade was mere inches from Abigail's torso.
But then she froze. Her blade hovered over her opponent's chest, unable to move further. Looking down, she saw a fiery hand pressed against her chest. Her gaze shifted upward, and she saw a horrifying figure looming behind Abigail, a burning skeletal figure clad in a wedding gown. It was a summon.
While summons were allowed as extensions of a mage's power, this one was overwhelmingly powerful. The creature swiftly grabbed Kesa's arm.
*CRACK!*
A scream erupted from Kesa as she collapsed to her knees, her broken arm still held tightly by the summon. Tears streamed down her face as she writhed in pain. Meanwhile, Abigail began preparing another attack. A small marble of fire formed in her hand, growing rapidly into a swirling ball of inferno.
The growing fireball radiated intense heat, its size exceeding that of Abigail's head. Kesa's eyes widened in horror, tears pricking at the corners as she desperately tried to free herself from the summon's grip.
"Stop!" Kesa begged, her voice breaking, the first word she had uttered since the match began.
Abigail didn't respond. Her expression remained calm, her focus unwavering as she poured more and more mana into the attack. The faculty, watching from the sidelines, began to look concerned.
Just as the fireball was about to be unleashed, a resounding SLAP echoed through the arena. A tall figure appeared between the two combatants, Hera. Her once battle-crazed grin was replaced with a deadpan, serious expression. With a single motion, she slapped the fireball, sending it hurtling into the sky, where it exploded in a brilliant display of flames.
"The hell is wrong with you?!" Hera growled.
The summon vanished instantly, and Abigail looked up at Hera with a confused expression. Tilting her head slightly, she placed a finger to her lips, her childlike voice betraying her demeanor. "What did I do wrong?"
"Tch. Damn brat," Hera muttered before turning her attention to Kesa. "That's a nasty break. We'll get you to the doctor, he'll fix you up good as new."
Kesa, still shaken, said nothing as the staff carried her away on a stretcher. Abigail was declared the winner of the match.
'...'
Xora watched, his food untouched, as his mind throbbed from a headache caused by the match's intense exchange. The pain only subsided when Abigail left the arena. He finally relaxed, though his appetite was already ruined.
She wasn't going to win... Abigail was different, he thought. He was certain of it.
She was the same as me. Abigail, or whatever she was called before... I instinctively knew from the start. Astra's presence shares a similar power and aura from the other dimension.
Leaning back, Xora rested his head on the seat and slumped down. "They're stronger than me," he muttered aloud, earning a few strange looks from nearby students.
He stood up and left the arena, his attitude soured as he lost interest in the tournament. With his hands stuffed into his pockets, he sat on a bench outside, his thoughts drifting to his past life.
Ants. Feeble creatures, so insignificant to humans that they die unintentionally. I was... _________. I wanted to ________. These societies, these humans, animals, creatures, and other races on other inhabited planets were just ants. I didn't mind stepping over a few colonies. Now... I am the ant. I understand I'm part of this colony, and it pains me. Despite regretting my past actions, the atrocities I've committed, I wish I had power again. I wish I was great again.
He grew tired. His mind, exhausted from prying into psychic waves from others, craved a break, a chance to recuperate. Might as well head to bed then, he decided.
Xora made his way to the dorms, a set of buildings designed for students to live in during their classes. He was assigned to the second floor and shared his room with a mysterious roommate he had yet to meet. The main lobby was unremarkable, with just some tables, chairs, and couches arranged for lounging. A bulletin board displayed various activities and rules for the residents to follow.
Ascending the grand staircase, he walked down the hall to his room, located at the far end. The ordinary wooden door bore a gold plate with the number: 213.
He pulled out his key and unlocked the door. With a sigh, he stepped inside. Tired and irritated by his own feebleness, he switched on the lights. The crystal light illuminated the room with a warm hum. It was simple, as dorm rooms go, featuring a small bathroom, a kitchenette, and a table. The bedroom had bunk beds... and someone on the top bunk.
Xora's gaze lingered briefly on the figure before it stirred. The person sat up, looking groggy but alert. "Oh, sup, dude," they said casually, offering a small wave before lying back down and drifting off again.
That was Xora's first introduction to his roommate and his first friend.