The Academy's Grand Hall was a stark contrast to the chaos brewing outside its gilded walls. Alaric sat on a velvet-cushioned chair in a private chamber, his gaze fixed on the ancient tome in front of him. The words glowed faintly, written in a language no one had spoken for millennia. The book was a relic of the First Age, one of the few remaining artifacts that could provide insight into the nature of his divine energy.
As he traced his fingers over the intricate symbols, a soft knock echoed against the chamber door.
"Enter," Alaric called, not lifting his eyes from the page.
The door creaked open to reveal Liliana Solis, her icy demeanor softened just slightly by a hint of curiosity. She carried a stack of scrolls, her magical aura carefully controlled as always.
"You've been here for hours," she said, placing the scrolls on a nearby table. "Are you planning to hide in this room until graduation?"
Alaric chuckled, finally looking up. "Not hiding. Researching. If I'm to understand what's happening to me, I need answers."
Liliana's gaze flickered to the tome. "That's an ancient script. How are you even reading it?"
"I'm not sure," Alaric admitted, leaning back. "It's like the words translate themselves as I focus. The closer I get to my divine energy, the more... familiar it feels."
Liliana crossed her arms, studying him. "You're an enigma, Alaric. But don't forget, the Grand Tournament begins tomorrow. You can't afford to miss it, not with all eyes on you."
Alaric nodded. The tournament was a critical event, showcasing the academy's top talents. It wasn't just about winning—it was about solidifying alliances, intimidating rivals, and making a statement to the world.
Before Liliana could press further, there was another knock. This time, it was Serena Valefor who entered, her usual cheerful smile in place.
"Are you two conspiring without me?" she teased, striding in with her twin blades strapped to her back. "I thought we were a team."
"Team?" Liliana raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize you were part of Alaric's personal research club."
"I'm part of everything," Serena shot back with a grin before turning to Alaric. "You've been summoned to the Council Hall. Apparently, there's an urgent matter involving you."
Alaric's expression darkened. "What kind of matter?"
"No details," Serena said, her tone shifting to seriousness. "But it seemed... important."
---
The Council Hall was a grand, circular room with towering columns and a domed ceiling adorned with murals of legendary battles. The air was heavy with tension as Alaric entered, flanked by Liliana and Serena. At the center of the room stood Darius Crowe, his rival, and a group of robed elders with stern expressions.
Darius smirked as Alaric approached. "Took you long enough, your highness."
"Cut to the point, Darius," Alaric said coldly, his voice steady.
One of the elders, a man with a long silver beard and piercing eyes, stepped forward. "Alaric Solis, your divine energy has drawn significant attention. There are those who believe it is a gift, but others see it as a threat."
Alaric's jaw tightened. "A threat to whom?"
"To the balance of power," the elder replied. "The existence of God-tier potential has disrupted the status quo. Factions within and outside the empire are taking notice."
"Let them notice," Alaric said firmly. "I have no intention of using my power recklessly. But I won't suppress it to make others comfortable."
Darius let out a low laugh. "Bold words. But can you back them up? The tournament will be the perfect stage to prove whether you're worthy of that power or if you're just another pretender."
Alaric met Darius's gaze, unflinching. "Careful, Darius. Pride has a way of leading to downfall."
---
Back in his quarters, Alaric sat with Liliana and Serena, the weight of the council's words pressing on him.
"They're afraid of you," Liliana said bluntly. "And fear makes people dangerous."
"I expected resistance," Alaric admitted. "But I didn't think it would come so soon. The tournament's not just about victory anymore—it's about survival."
Serena placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone in this. Whatever happens, we've got your back."
"Thank you," Alaric said, his voice filled with gratitude.
As the night deepened, Alaric returned to the ancient tome. The words seemed to shimmer more brightly, as if responding to his determination. One passage caught his eye, its meaning striking him like a bolt of lightning:
"The bearer of divine energy shall face trials not of this world. To master the power is to understand its origin, for only then can the true enemy be revealed."
---
The next day, the Grand Tournament began with a thunderous roar from the crowd. The arena was a massive structure, its stone walls etched with runes to contain even the most destructive magic. Competitors from various academies gathered, their colorful banners fluttering in the wind.
Alaric stood among them, his presence commanding attention. Whispers filled the air, many speculating about his God-tier potential.
The first round was a series of individual duels, designed to test raw skill. Alaric's opponent was a formidable mage from a rival academy, his mana swirling around him like a storm.
"You may have divine energy," the mage sneered, "but let's see how you handle a real fight."
The duel began with a blinding flash of light as the mage unleashed a barrage of fireballs. Alaric moved with precision, deflecting the attacks with a shield of mana before countering with a wave of divine energy. The sheer force of his attack shattered the mage's defenses, leaving him stunned.
The crowd erupted in cheers as Alaric emerged victorious.
In the next round, Alaric faced a warrior wielding a massive enchanted axe. The battle was fierce, the warrior's strikes shaking the ground. But Alaric's divine energy allowed him to anticipate every move, and with a well-placed strike, he disarmed his opponent and claimed victory once again.
By the end of the day, Alaric had advanced to the final round. His opponent was none other than Darius Crowe.
The arena fell silent as the two rivals faced each other.
"Let's see if your divine energy can save you," Darius said, his voice dripping with arrogance.
"You'll find out soon enough," Alaric replied, his tone calm but deadly.
The battle began with an explosion of power, both fighters unleashing their full strength. Darius's attacks were relentless, his mana crackling with intensity. But Alaric's divine energy gave him an edge, allowing him to counter every move with precision.
The fight reached its climax when Alaric summoned a massive surge of divine energy, creating a shockwave that knocked Darius to the ground.
The crowd erupted in cheers as Alaric stood victorious, his name echoing through the arena.
---
Later that night, as Alaric returned to his quarters, he felt a strange presence. A hooded figure emerged from the shadows, their face obscured.
"Who are you?" Alaric demanded, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword.
"I am a messenger," the figure said, their voice low and cryptic. "The true battle lies ahead, Alaric Solis. The cult of Elder Magic has taken notice of you, and they will stop at nothing to claim your power."
Before Alaric could respond, the figure vanished, leaving him with more questions than answers.
As he stood alone in the moonlit room, Alaric realized that the tournament was just the beginning. The shadows were closing in, and his journey was far from over.