The day of the tournament had finally arrived. The atmosphere was electric, crackling with anticipation. Streets around the grand coliseum were packed with merchants selling everything from fried monster legs to enchanted tournament merchandise, where miniatures of competitors bickered and dueled on display. The coliseum itself loomed grandly against the sky, its towering marble columns adorned with banners of the participating kingdoms. Inside, the hum of the crowd was deafening. Spectators from all corners of the world had gathered, cheering, chanting, and betting feverishly.
The tournament ground was a masterpiece. A circular arena, covered in shimmering protective enchantments, radiated a faint blue glow. Above it, a colossal floating screen hovered, enchanted to display the battles and the reactions of the audience. The arena floor was a mix of terrain—sand, grass, and jagged rocks—designed to challenge combatants.
The first elimination round was moments away, and the audience collectively held their breath. The host, a flamboyant man in a suit of glowing gold threads, strutted onto the stage, his voice amplified magically.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Creatures of all realms!" he began, his words punctuated by fireworks that erupted overhead. "Welcome to the stage 3 of the final evaluation. The Grand Tournament"
The crowd erupted in cheers so loud that even the soundproof chambers of the waiting competitors vibrated faintly.
The host raised his arms, calling for silence. "Today, thirty-two brave warriors will clash! Blood will spill—metaphorically, of course! And legends will be forged! Now, without further ado, let's reveal the matchups!"
The massive screen above flickered to life, showing a spinning grid of names. The crowd gasped as the names shuffled with dizzying speed. When they stopped, the first matchup was revealed: Ned Forester vs. Leo Raven.
The air thickened with excitement, and the camera zoomed in on Ned, who stood frozen in his waiting chamber.
"Great," Ned muttered to himself. "First match. No pressure. Sure, I wanted to scout some moves before fighting, but luck clearly hates me."
He sighed, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. "I will win," he told himself, his mind replaying his preparations.
The gates to the arena rumbled open. Ned stepped out, gripping his staff, his heart pounding but his expression calm. From the opposite gate, Leo Raven emerged. Dressed in sleek black attire, his gait exuded arrogance. The crowd roared at his entrance, their cheers filled with awe and anticipation.
The host's voice boomed. "Here they are! From the east, the underdog with a knack for survival, Ned Forester! And from the far west, the enigmatic heir of the Raven Kingdom, Leo Raven!"
As they approached the center of the arena, the host declared the rules: "No killing! Violators will be disqualified and jailed!"
Before the match began, Leo smirked, his voice dripping with disdain. "So, you're the one who wiped out my juniors. Mickey and his team spoke highly of your... 'luck.' Let's see how far it gets you today."
Ned raised an eyebrow. "What? Who's Mickey?"
Leo's smirk faltered. "Don't play dumb. You eliminated my comrades!"
"Oh, that team," Ned said, his tone indifferent. "Look, pal, it's a competition. Everyone's eliminating everyone. That's the whole point. If it makes you feel better, I can apologize—"
Leo's chest puffed up, ready to accept the apology and deliver a line worthy of a hero.
"—is what I'd say if I cared. But I don't. Now, can we just fight already? I'm starving, and the eight-course breakfast this morning wasn't enough."
The crowd burst into laughter, while Leo's face contorted with rage.
"You arrogant—! I'll show you the power of the Raven!"
"And I'll show you the power of slime curry," Ned retorted, lifting his staff.
The host stepped back dramatically, raising his hand. "Combatants ready? Three, two, one—BEGIN!"
Leo wasted no time, whipping out a sleek, medieval pistol. He fired rapid shots, each bullet imbued with dark energy. Ned twirled his staff, deflecting them with precision.
"Is that it?" Ned muttered, just as the bullets disintegrated mid-air into black tendrils. The tendrils morphed into razor-sharp claws, slashing at Ned.
Caught off guard, he stumbled back, narrowly avoiding a deep cut. His mind raced. How could I forget, that's the Raven Kingdom's talent—Black Raven! They can imbue objects with raven energy, turning them into deadly extensions of their will.
From the stands, Surfer crossed his arms. "The Raven talent. That's going to be tricky."
Zara cupped her hands around her mouth. "You better not lose, Ned! I still have to crush you in front of the crowd later!"
Reena shot her a glare, her voice a low murmur. "Ned will win."
Ned blocked out the noise, focusing on the fight. Leo smirked. "All bark, no bite."
Ned ignored him, dashing forward to close the distance. Leo fired relentlessly, but Ned deflected or dodged every shot. When the bullets turned into claws, he countered with calculated swings of his staff, breaking their momentum.
As he closed in, Ned reached for his belt, pulling out two daggers. The crowd gasped.
"Daggers?" someone muttered. "But he's a staff user!"
Parth chuckled from the stands. "All-rounder."
Ned hurled the daggers, each throw swift and precise. Leo deflected them with ease, scoffing. "Is that the best you've got?"
Just as he said it, a dagger whizzed past his cheek, leaving a thin scratch.
Leo's eyes widened. Ned smirked.
Talaria's compatibility reached 100% yesterday, Ned thought, gripping his staff. It's fully mine now.
Talaria, based on the legendary Hermes' shoes, had always been about speed. But after experimenting, Ned discovered it could amplify not just his movement but his hand speed. By channeling mana differently, he had turned his arms into blurs of motion.
Leo, realizing the danger, steadied himself. "Impressive. But this fight is far from over."
"Agreed," Ned said, a grin spreading across his face.
The arena crackled with tension as the two combatants faced off, both ready to unleash their full power. The crowd leaned forward, holding their breath.
The real fight was just beginning.