Chapter 6
The air in the academy courtyard was alive with anticipation. Students, teachers, and even a few visiting nobles filled the seats surrounding the newly constructed arena. Flags bearing the academy's crest flapped in the brisk wind, and the smell of charred wood hinted at the magical preparations made to ensure the battleground would hold under the forces it was about to endure.
Aeron stood with Jinx near the staging area, his gaze fixed on the large circular arena. Its boundary was marked by shimmering runes that would absorb excess magic to protect the audience. For now, though, he wasn't focused on the protective wards. He was assessing the arena's layout—open terrain, a few stone structures placed strategically as obstacles, and sand spread across the ground for solid footing.
Jinx tugged on his sleeve, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You're not nervous, are you?" she asked, tilting her head to study him. Her crystal-lensed goggles sat on her forehead, already glowing faintly from the ambient magic.
"I don't get nervous," Aeron replied simply, his voice calm. "Just focused."
"Well, maybe a bit of excitement wouldn't hurt," Jinx teased, though her voice dropped as her gaze swept the bustling crowd. "Look at this turnout. Even some of the nobles showed up to watch." She pulled out her notebook and jotted something down, glancing up at him briefly. "They're all here to see what the academy has to offer. You'll be up against more than just students today—this is about showing off potential."
Aeron nodded. It wasn't just the students who'd be judged. The tournament was an opportunity for the academy to showcase their training methods and talents. Still, Aeron didn't plan to make a spectacle of himself unless absolutely necessary.
Before they could continue, the headmaster's voice boomed across the arena, amplified by a simple spell. "Welcome, students, faculty, and honored guests, to this year's Grand Academy Tournament!" Cheers erupted from the stands, the roar vibrating through the stone walls.
The headmaster, an elderly mage dressed in flowing crimson robes, raised his hand to quiet the crowd. "Twenty-four of our academy's finest will compete in a series of single-elimination matches. Magic, skill, and strategy will determine the victor. Remember, while the matches are fierce, this is a test of your capabilities—not a battlefield. Anyone who breaks the rules will face immediate disqualification. Now then, let us review the stakes!"
He gestured to the far end of the arena, where an ornate pedestal was rolled out. Upon it rested a small, gleaming artifact—the bronze hilt of a long-forgotten weapon. Beside it were pouches of refined crystals, a resource almost as valuable as gold, and a plaque with the inscription "10,000 Merit Points."
"That artifact," Jinx whispered, her eyes glued to the armband, "is no joke. It might not look like much, but that level of defensive enchantment? Extremely rare." Her fingers twitched, no doubt itching to examine it up close.
"Focus," Aeron said, his gaze unwavering on the arena as the headmaster continued.
"The matches will be conducted in random order, drawn before each round," the headmaster explained. "Each match will test your abilities—whether it be hand-to-hand combat, raw magic, or summons. The goal is to incapacitate your opponent or force them to concede. Lethal magic is strictly forbidden. Summoned companions are permitted but must follow the same rules. Do your best, and let the matches begin!"
Cheers erupted again as the first set of names was called.
The first match ended quickly, the victor a skilled water mage who manipulated the arena's moisture to his advantage. The next fight passed in a blur of whirling blades and ice shards. Aeron watched with interest, gauging the techniques of each fighter.
The matches leading up to the main fights weren't much to speak of—at least in Aeron's opinion. First-years and lesser-trained second-years clumsily clashed with loud bursts of magic that were as showy as they were inefficient. Jinx had taken notes, the scratching of her quill occasionally loud enough to pull Aeron's attention back to the arena.
"Anything worth writing about?" Aeron asked her after one particularly lopsided bout. A fire mage had overwhelmed a poor earth caster with sheer force, nearly singing the edge of the stands.
She shrugged, still scribbling. "Plenty. Even poor fighters can show us what not to do."
The crowd's cheers grew quiet for a moment, but it wasn't because the matches were growing stale. Instead, they hushed as a young man with sharp features stepped onto the arena floor. His black hair gleamed in the sunlight, tied back loosely as he adjusted the edge of his sleeveless tunic. His calm steps carried a chilling air that rippled through the crowd.
"Who's that?" Aeron murmured, leaning slightly toward Jinx.
She glanced up from her notebook. "An elf, obviously. But black hair... that's rare." She flipped through a few pages. "I don't have anything on him. Could be an outsider."
"A strong one," Aeron muttered, noticing the way the young man carried himself—a careful, deliberate calm that spoke to years of training.
His opponent, a muscular man wielding a large axe, stomped onto the field with a grin plastered on his face. "Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're some fancy elf, kid," the axeman barked, flexing for the audience.
The black-haired elf didn't flinch. He simply inclined his head, as if accepting a statement of fact rather than a threat.
"Begin!" called the proctor.
The axeman wasted no time, charging forward with a roar. His axe glowed faintly as he channeled raw energy into the blade. It slammed down with a heavy swing, the impact cracking the ground where the elf had just been standing.
The elf stepped aside with a smooth motion, his feet barely leaving marks on the dirt. He moved like the wind, and as his opponent stumbled forward with the momentum of his strike, the elf twisted around him in one fluid motion.
A burst of air magic shot out from his hands, slamming into the axeman's back and sending him skidding across the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, their earlier whispers now replaced by full-throated admiration.
"That wind manipulation," Jinx muttered, frantically noting down observations. "It's so... precise. He didn't waste any movement."
Aeron silently agreed, watching closely as the elf maintained his calm, almost disinterested demeanor.
The axeman growled, spitting dirt as he climbed to his feet. With a grunt, he swung his axe in a wide arc, unleashing a crescent-shaped energy wave toward his opponent.
This time, the elf didn't dodge. Instead, he raised a hand, and with a twist of his fingers, the wind curled into a vortex, swallowing the wave of energy before it could reach him.
"I've seen enough," Aeron muttered, standing abruptly.
"What? You're leaving?" Jinx looked up in surprise.
"Not leaving. Just preparing," he said, his gaze locked on the elf as the young man closed the distance and ended the fight with a sharp gust of air that sent the axeman sprawling. The proctor raised his hand, declaring the black-haired elf the winner, but Aeron wasn't watching anymore. He was already walking toward the contestants' hall.