The second day of the matches was leagues apart from the chaos of the first. Today's twist? We were randomly paired with another student and pitted against another duo. It was a test of teamwork, strategy, and patience.
And wouldn't you know it? My very first match was against the fabled hero and Mira Lightsong. You know, the kind of pairing that screams, "You're about to have a really bad day."
I could feel Ryn's jealous glare drilling into the back of my head as I stood there, ready to have my rear handed to me on a mana-infused platter.
This wasn't exactly what I'd call lucky. If anything, it was a cosmic joke. I've read enough books to know villains rarely win unless they're decked out in plot armor. Spoiler: I didn't have any.
My partner, on the other hand, was a plain commoner girl. A normal one. Not like Ryn, who thinks tripping counts as a strategy, or Lena, who could probably lecture me to death.
No, this girl had the classic commoner vibe: scared, jittery, and absolutely terrified of offending a noble like me.
Honestly? I loved it. Watching her fidget nervously was like reliving a simpler time before I'd corrupted all my childhood friends.
Don't get me wrong, though—I'm not the type to bully commoners. I've got bigger priorities, like blowing things up and figuring out how to cover up said explosions before anyone notices.
Today, I came prepared. Alchemical bombs. Lots of them. If I was going to face off against the hero and his plot-protected sidekick, I needed everything in my arsenal.
The moment Markus announced the match, I grabbed my partner's hand (whose name I hadn't bothered to learn because, well, priorities) and leapt into the air, tossing a smoke explosion behind us.
"BAAM!"
Now, usually, smoke bombs don't make a sound, but I'd made some… modifications. Because what's the point of being dramatic if you don't go all the way?
As the smoke engulfed the arena, I heard a squeak from my partner. "My arm! It hurts!"
Oh, great. The last thing I needed was a casualty on my side before the fight even started. I landed and shoved a potion into her hands. "Here. Drink this and stop complaining. We've got a hero to beat."
To my surprise, she downed the potion and immediately started chanting a spell. Before I could ask what she was doing, she cast Gust, directing the smoke into a swirling vortex around the hero and Mira.
I couldn't help but clap. "Impressive! What's your name, commoner? You've got talent."
She hesitated before answering, her voice steady but tinged with pride. "Song. Song Zenith. I'm from a fallen noble family."
Oh. That explained it. Only nobles were allowed to have second names, and while hers didn't ring any bells, it clearly meant something.
"A fallen noble, huh?" I mused. "Guess you're more interesting than I thought."
She didn't respond, but I noticed a flicker of determination in her eyes. Maybe this match wouldn't be so hopeless after all. Or maybe it would. Either way, I was determined to make as much noise as possible before inevitably getting flattened by the hero's plot armor.
---
Before I could celebrate our brief position of advantage, a sharp pain shot through my arm. It went limp instantly.
"Oh, great," I muttered, clutching my useless limb. "Perfect time to lose a limb, huh?"
Naturally, I had a solution for this. I always do. Explosive healing! It's a potion I created for emergencies—except, you know, it explodes. Maybe I should've reconsidered its practicality.
BAAM!
The blast restored my arm, sure, but also lit me up like a beacon in the fog. So much for the whole "hidden advantage" plan. I couldn't help but laugh.
Not because it was funny, but because if I didn't, I'd cry.
And then there was Mira Lightsong. This girl? Unreal. She had her eyes closed, relying entirely on sound to track us. Sound! Who does that? My explosive tendencies were practically handing her a roadmap to my location.
Realizing I was outmatched, I made a desperate move. I hurled every potion in my arsenal—fire, frost, poison, flower blooming, you name it—in every direction. It wasn't strategy; it was chaos.
BAAM! BOOM! KAPOW!
The arena turned into a warzone of smoke and noise. Even Song was impressed, or maybe terrified—it's hard to tell when someone's sticking that close to you, fending off panic. She kept swirling the smoke around the hero and Mira, but I had no idea what her plan was. Meanwhile, I was running out of tricks.
All I had left was my near-grade-2 fire magic, which I hadn't practiced in weeks. I started conjuring flames when I suddenly felt danger—like a predator was breathing down my neck. Instinctively, I cloaked myself and Song in a fiery shield.
Then, WHAM! A fist buried itself into my gut.
As I crumpled to the ground, gasping for air, a memory surfaced: The protagonist has shadow and light elements at this stage.
With shadow magic, he could see through the smoke. I'd been playing the fool all along.
"Great," I wheezed. "The clown goes down with style."
Determined not to go out quietly, I threw a ball of liquid beneath me—one final act of defiance. But just as it left my hand, time froze.
I blinked, unable to move. The entire arena stood still.
Lucia, our headmistress, strolled into the scene like she was on a casual afternoon walk. Her red hair shimmered unnaturally, and her emerald eyes glinted with amusement.
She stopped in front of me, her voice as calm as ever. "Venzel, didn't you read the rules? No lethal attempts."
With a flick of her wrist, my potion disappeared into thin air. The smoke cleared instantly, revealing the chaos I'd unleashed.
"Minus five points for breaking the rules," she added with a smirk before turning and vanishing as if she hadn't just casually hit pause on reality.
I lay there, staring at the now-visible arena. My grand plans for the artificial dragon heart? Gone. My dignity? Probably incinerated in one of my own explosions.
As Song helped me to my feet, I had one thought: This match was an eye-opener. I was out of my depth, a clown in a ring full of lions.
But clowns can learn.
"It's time," I muttered under my breath, smirking despite myself. "Time to start my villain arc."