Everyone in the arena turned in unison, their heads snapping around as they tried to figure out who Lyra was talking about. It didn't take long. The whispers began, and all eyes fell on him—the boy with silky black hair, a face too handsome for his reputation, but his thin, unremarkable body betrayed him. His deep blue eyes held an emptiness, and his lips were a tight line of quiet frustration.
It was Sean Blake.
The air seemed to grow colder as Lyra's words cut through the tension like a knife.
"You're just going to humiliate yourself some more," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "You can't even beat anyone here. Not even the weakest of us. You should just go home."
The crowd erupted in laughter, harsh and mocking, like a wave crashing over him. Some of them even had the audacity to stare at him with predatory glares, as though they could already see him broken, defeated.
Lyra was right. Sean was a joke. Without magic, he was nothing more than a body in the crowd, a statistic in the tournament. He couldn't even contest the weakest rank, the rank F. This was nothing more than a spectacle. A sad little plus one to make the tournament numbers look good.
"Did you ever wonder why I even dated you?" Lyra continued, her voice cold and casual as she made sure everyone was listening. "You were good at learning spells and theories. I thought maybe you'd be someone great. But look at you now. Just a dud."
*HAHAHA!*
The laughter that followed was savage, and the sound of it tore at Sean's soul. His body stiffened, and for a brief moment, everything felt like it was crumbling around him. He had no response, no defense, just the pain in his chest. It burned, more than he could bear. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but the words were stuck in his throat.
Lyra's voice cut through again, sharp and dismissive.
"And this is Dean, my new boyfriend," she said, her hand slipping into Dean Ryder's with an ease that made Sean's stomach churn. "He's strong. He knows how to treat me better than you ever did. He'll definitely be someone great."
With that, she turned, hand in hand with Dean, striding confidently toward the arena as though Sean didn't even exist anymore.
Sean stood frozen, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. His hand unconsciously went to his chest, clutching at the aching void inside him. His body was rigid, every part of him screaming to do something—anything—but he couldn't. The pain inside was unbearable.
*KACHA*
A sudden cracking sound echoed deep within Sean's chest. The noise was so faint that no one else heard it, but it was enough to make his entire body tremble. A crack, small but growing, tore at the core of his being.
The crowd moved past him, some casting him pitying glances, others shaking their heads in silent judgment. None of them cared. They were all too busy heading to the arena, too eager to see the spectacle that was about to unfold.
.....
Time seemed to stretch, but after a while, Sean regained his bearings. His eyes, though clouded with pain, burned with a flicker of defiance. He wasn't going to let them see him break. Not now. Not ever. He slowly made his way toward the arena, every step feeling heavier than the last.
When he entered, the chaos of the arena overwhelmed him. The air was thick with excitement. The roars and shouts of the students filled the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of anticipation. People were shouting, laughing, and making bets. Some students were already lined up for their turn in the ring, their faces alight with the promise of glory.
Sean found an empty seat at the back, as far away from the chaos as he could. He sat down quietly, his gaze locked on the central arena.
Just then, the booming voice of the school principal echoed across the arena, cutting through the noise.
"Welcome, students!"
The crowd hushed almost instantly, the atmosphere shifting from excitement to utter silence. All eyes were on the man who had just entered the ring—a giant of a man, tall and muscular with blonde hair and piercing green eyes. His aura of confidence was palpable, and his very presence seemed to command respect. He was Principal Bernard Jones, and his voice was one that could stir the blood of any student.
"I hope you're all ready for this year's School Competition!" he roared, his voice ringing with power.
*YEAHHH!!!*
The crowd erupted, but Principal Jones wasn't done.
"I won't waste your time with speeches," he continued with a grin that sent shivers through the crowd. "All I'll say is this: give it your all. For the top ten this year, I've got a special surprise."
The students buzzed with excitement. This was new. The Principal had never promised a "special surprise" before. The competition was already dangerous, but this new incentive was enough to make the students practically vibrate with excitement.
"And now, to choose the opponents!" Principal Jones raised a hand, and two large bowls appeared beside him. "Each student will draw a name from one of the bowls. If you pick your own name, draw again. Let's begin."
The students surged forward, eager to find out who they would face. The bowls were separated by color: the blue bowl for Group A, and the red bowl for Group B. Everyone eagerly drew their names, their eyes darting to the large screen that would show the matchups.
The tension was palpable. With 340 participants, there would be 170 battles, and the anticipation hung thick in the air.
"Without further delay, let's choose our first fighter!" Principal Jones announced, his grin widening.
The screen began to flash rapidly, names scrolling by in an endless blur, before it suddenly stopped on one. The arena fell silent.
"Our first fighter," Principal Jones boomed, "is Dean Ryder! Come forward and call out your opponent!"
The stadium erupted into shock and gasps. Dean Ryder, the son of the city's mayor, one of the academy's strongest students, was going to be the first to fight. He was ranked number 9 on the power scale, and to many, he was the favorite to win it all.
Sean's heart skipped a beat as he watched Dean confidently stride forward, a smirk playing on his lips.
But as Dean unwrapped his paper, his face shifted slightly, eyebrows furrowing in mild surprise. He looked at the name on the paper for a moment, and then, in a voice that carried across the arena, he read aloud with a neutral tone that shocked everyone to their core.
"My opponent is... Sean Blake."
Silence.
The noise that had once filled the stadium died instantly. The stillness was deafening.
The whispers began almost immediately, as though the very ground had trembled beneath their feet.
"Haha, I must be hearing things," one student said, laughing nervously.
"Did he just say *Sean Blake*?" another voice asked, incredulous.
"No way. There's no way. Sean Blake against Dean? That's like using an egg to break a stone."
"The rules are the rules, though," someone else chimed in. "This is gonna be brutal. It's like watching a train wreck."
The crowd began to murmur, some laughing, others looking on in disbelief, but the intensity of the situation hung heavy. They couldn't believe what they had just heard.
Dean Ryder, ranked 9th in the academy, a force of nature, was going to face Sean Blake, the boy without magic, the one who was barely a blip on the radar.
"Let's see how this goes," someone whispered with a cruel smile. "I'd bet my whole fortune that Dean knocks him out in one move."
But no one noticed the subtle change in Sean's expression. His lips tightened, his fists clenched, and his blue eyes, normally devoid of emotion, flickered with something—something fierce. He wasn't going to back down. Not now. Not ever.
The battle was set. The arena was his stage, and he would show them all.