"And that, ladies and gentlemen, concludes our second-to-final match!" Janos Verterre's voice echoed across the arena.
The crowd erupted in applause. Vel watched the victorious team exit through the gate. Below, faculty members moved across the arena floor, their hands glowing as they renewed the charred ground—scorch marks left by the beam that had nearly breached the protective barrier.
"Here it is—what we've ALL been waiting for!" Janos spread his arms wide. "The final match! Not just the students hold their breath, but our esteemed guests and faculty find themselves at the edge of their seats!"
He paused. The silence stretched.
Drums began—low, steady beats that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The rhythm felt less like music and more like a summons.
Guards in crimson and gold emerged from the entrance tunnels, positioning themselves along the arena wall. Vel had watched every match today. These guards had never been here before.
"What's happening?" Tomas whispered.
Celia's hand shot up, pointing toward the special guest section. "There."
A figure draped in ornate robes settled into the seat beside the Archmagister's box. Even from this distance, their presence commanded attention—nobles turning to acknowledge them, attendants standing at rigid attention.
Royal blood, clearly. Perhaps not the king himself, but close enough.
"Folks!" Janos called out, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "You must be curious—confused, even—about what's happening before your very eyes. Then allow me..." He paused, letting anticipation build. "...Janos Verterre... to answer your questions by introducing our FINAL competitors!"
The drums stopped.
"From the EAST gate!" Janos gestured dramatically toward the shadowed entrance. "We have the team captained by Torahiko Kasano, wielding his family's traditional blade! Joined by Valen Heima with her custom crossbow, and Jereth Ulmak!"
Three figures emerged into the sunlight. Kasano adjusted his grip on his sheathed katana, shoulders drawn tight. Valen checked her crossbow's mechanism once, then again. Ulmak's knuckles showed white against his staff.
"They're acting strange for elite students," Rohen murmured from behind Vel. "Shouldn't they be more confident?"
Vel said nothing. He'd noticed it too—the way they walked, the stiffness in their movements. Every other team had entered with confidence, eager to prove themselves. These three moved like they were walking into something far more dangerous than a tournament match.
"And from the WEST GATE!" Janos's voice soared. "Team Atherwind enters the arena!"
The western gate swung open.
"Descendant of the legendary House of Warriors—Lord Kein Atherwind! Destined to become the next lord of his storied lineage!" Janos paused, letting the name resonate. "Joined by Lady Lysithea of the esteemed House Fairwind, whose influence spans the breadth of Lona's commerce!"
Kein stepped forward, a decorated longsword at his hip—its golden crossguard visible even from the stands. Beside him, Lysithea held an elegant hand-fan, its painted surface concealing what Vel knew was her true focus.
The crowd's applause began, but Janos raised his hand.
"But that is NOT all, ladies and gentlemen!" His voice dropped to a near-whisper, forcing everyone to lean in. "Their third member... a late addition to their roster... whose identity was concealed until this VERY moment."
He pulled a parchment from his coat, squinting at it dramatically.
"Even I had to read this THREE times to believe what my eyes were telling me!"
The arena held its breath.
"His Royal Highness, Prince Eldrin Garnos, third son of King Korivan Garnos the Seventh!"
The collective gasp swept through the arena like a wave.
A young man stepped through the gate, joining Kein and Lysithea as they walked toward the center. Students shot to their feet—some placing hands over hearts, others bowing their heads. Commoners and nobles alike showed their respects.
"A prince?!"
Vel blinked at the synchronized outburst. Celia, Enya, and Mira had spoken at the exact same moment, their voices blending into one shocked exclamation.
Tomas, Rohen, and Vel exchanged glances—not at the announcement itself, but at the reaction around them.
"Settle down, ladies," Rohen said, raising his palms.
Vel shrugged. "In hindsight, not that surprising. I mean... royalty or not, they still need to learn, right? Where else would they get qualified education?"
He studied the prince from across the arena. Eldrin carried himself with practiced elegance, his smile never wavering. Even his eyes accommodated the expression perfectly—warm, approachable, yet somehow distant.
Vel had seen that smile before. Yuki wore it constantly at SolarTech, though his version carried an edge of something darker.
"That explains why Hileya couldn't find any information about him," Vel said to the group.
"But—why now?" Tomas leaned forward. "Why reveal it?"
"Well, I can think of one reason." Vel gestured toward Team Kasano on the opposite side of the arena. "Look at the other team. Doesn't seem like they want to be here at all."
Celia nodded slowly. "The pressure. Do they even... dare to win?"
"Wouldn't people find out eventually?" Rohen asked. "Someone as unique as Eldrin stands out."
"Unique how?"
Rohen leaned back, crossing his arms. "Word is, the third son of King Garnos hasn't spoken since birth. Least favored among his brothers." He kept his voice low. "But he developed this... unbelievable attunement to magic. It became part of him, compensating for what he couldn't say."
He gestured toward the arena floor. "After seeing him fight today, people would eventual—"
Rohen's eyes landed on Enya and Mira.
The two girls clutched each other's arms, completely lost in their own world.
"Look at his hair," Enya whispered, her voice dreamy.
"And that smile," Mira added, sighing.
"Hey." Rohen's voice cut through their daze. "They're going to be Vel's rivals. Who are you two rooting for?"
Both girls blinked, yanked back to reality. They separated quickly, smoothing their clothes and fixing their hair with exaggerated casualness.
"What's so special about a prince," Rohen muttered under his breath. "He's just human like anyone else."
Vel's attention shifted back to the arena floor. The two teams had moved to the center, forming a line. They bowed to each other—a formality that felt stiff, mechanical. Team Kasano's movements were rigid, while Team Atherwind carried themselves with ease, as if this were just another afternoon.
Vel studied the weapon more closely. Kein's scabbard itself wrapped in what looked like silk brocade, deep blue with gold threading. The blade peeked slightly above the guard, and it seemed to emit its own light. Whether that came from the afternoon sun or enchantment was difficult to tell with Kein's light attunement. It reminded Vel of Landre's church robes—that same radiant quality that blurred the line between natural and magical illumination.
Lysithea's hand-fan unfolded with a quick flick of her wrist. An ornate tail of gold chains dangled from its base, and Vel spotted a gem embedded near the pivot—probably a focusing crystal worked directly into the framework.
But it was Eldrin's harp that held Vel's focus completely.
The prince carried something Vel hadn't seen during their earlier glimpses of him in the spectator seats. A small harp, compact enough to cradle with one arm. The instrument's frame gleamed with silver and gold inlay, and despite its delicate appearance, something about its construction suggested it was built for more than music.
"Is he going to serenade them to sleep?" Tomas asked, though his tone carried curiosity rather than mockery.
"It's a focus," Vel said. "Like your wand."
"Really?" Celia squinted toward the arena.
"You can't see it from here." Vel gestured vaguely. The details were clear to him through his far sight spell, but the others wouldn't make out the finer points. "The frame's decorated with gems and rune carvings. Doesn't take much to figure out what they're for."
"Is this even fair?" Rohen muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
The phrase "pay-to-win" surfaced in Vel's mind—a concept from his past life that felt oddly appropriate here, where noble wealth bought advantages no amount of skill could match.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Janos's voice cut through Vel's thoughts. "Prepare yourselves for what promises to be a SPECTACULAR display of talent and power!"
The countdown began. Three... two... one...
The bell rang, its clear tone echoing across the arena.
Kein's sword immediately erupted with brilliant white light, illuminating the sand around him like midday sun. Prince Eldrin remained perfectly still, his posture elegant as he held the harp at the ready. Beside them, Lysithea had already begun a complex incantation, her fan moving in intricate patterns, weaving through the air like a painter's brush.
The opposing team, however, seemed momentarily frozen. It took them several seconds to spring into action—a deadly delay in a tournament match.
Kasano dropped into a low stance, one hand resting on his katana's hilt. The blade remained sheathed at his side.
What caught Vel's attention wasn't his posture but the dark shadows gathering around him in a perfect circle—tendrils of darkness that seemed to absorb the light from Kein's glowing blade.
"Dark element," Vel whispered, leaning forward. "That's rare. The only one I've seen use it so far..." He paused, memories of the Ossuary flashing through his mind. "Well, except that person who killed me a few years ago."
The casual way he said it earned several head turns.
"Almost—" Vel corrected himself after a beat. "—killed me."
Celia's attention shifted between Vel and the arena. "Kasano's element is the direct opposite of Kein's. Light versus dark. I wonder how it'll play out."
Vel leaned forward, eyes narrowed as the match unfolded. Valen Heima raised her crossbow and fired two bolts in quick succession toward Kein. With casual grace, Kein's glowing blade swept through the air, deflecting both projectiles with precise movements that seemed almost effortless.
"He's gotten so much better," Celia whispered, her voice a mixture of admiration and concern.
Ulmak began tracing sigils in the air, his lips moving through an incantation. Vel recognized the pattern—a shield spell, likely intended to protect Kasano from Kein's advance.
In that same moment, Eldrin's fingers plucked the harp strings. A chord rang out, sharp and clear. The sound became visible—a shockwave rippling outward in waves. Sand lifted in its wake, only to settle back down like a falling curtain. The wave swept through Kein and Lysithea, passing over them without effect.
The opposing team wasn't so fortunate. They clutched at their ears, faces contorted in pain. Ulmak's concentration shattered mid-spell, the magic circle dissipating into useless sparks.
Vel leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he watched the two teams react so differently.
"It doesn't hit their own teammates," he said. "How?"
Kein seized the opportunity, charging toward Kasano with his luminous blade raised. As the two swordsmen prepared to clash, another twang resonated from the prince's harp. The same disruptive wave pulsed outward, precisely timed.
Kasano flinched, his rhythm broken for just a heartbeat—but in high-level combat, a heartbeat was an eternity. He barely managed to block Kein's strike, their blades locking together in a shower of sparks.
Vel strained to hear their exchange, but could only make out their expressions. Kein's face remained calm, almost detached, while Kasano's features twisted with growing frustration.
They broke apart, circling each other warily. Kasano's next attack came with renewed vigor, shadows trailing his blade like ink in water. Kein met each strike with perfect counters, their swords creating a deadly dance of light and darkness.
"What's Eldrin actually doing?" Enya asked.
"Magic disruption," Vel said. "Every time Ulmak starts casting—"
Another twang cut through the air.
"The wave doesn't cause physical harm," Vel continued, watching Ulmak clutch his head. "But it completely disrupts mana flow. Breaks concentration."
"That means..." Tomas's voice carried a note of dread. "They can completely shut down any unprotected caster."
Vel nodded.
Across the arena, Team Kasano seemed to reach the same conclusion. Valen Heima swiveled her crossbow away from Kein, taking aim at Prince Eldrin instead.
Valen's bolt flew straight toward Prince Eldrin, who didn't even flinch. Just as Vel expected the prince to move, the bolt suddenly curved in midair, veering off at an impossible angle before embedding itself harmlessly in the sand.
"What—how?" Tomas gasped.
Vel's eyes darted to Lysithea, catching the tail end of a flicking motion—her closed fan snapping toward Eldrin's direction.
"A barrier," Vel said. "She created an invisible current to deflect projectiles."
On the opposite side of the arena, Kein and Kasano remained locked in their exchange. But Kasano's strikes had grown desperate, his movements purely defensive now while Kein pressed the advantage with methodical strikes.
Vel's gaze swept across the entire arena floor, taking in the fight as a whole—the pieces clicking together.
His eyes widened.
"No way..." he breathed.
"What is it?" Celia asked.
"This isn't a fight." Vel leaned forward. "It's a lockdown."
His friends' attention snapped to the arena, recognition dawning on their faces as they saw what Vel had seen.
"No magic gets through. No projectiles land." Vel continued, his voice low. "Kasano's the only one who can actually engage, and he's barely holding on. Add the pressure they established from the start..."
He watched Ulmak attempt another spell, only to clutch his head as the harp's disruption hit again.
"Most people would crumble under this pressure."
"So that's why they needed Fairwind," Celia said, watching Lysithea's positioning. "She must be preventing Eldrin's disruption from hitting their own team. Somehow."
Vel nodded. The strategy made perfect sense now—suffocate the enemy while keeping themselves untouched.
"MAGNIFICENT coordination!" Janos's voice boomed across the arena, finally catching on to the strategy. "Team Atherwind has effectively neutralized all options for their opponents! What a display of tactical brilliance!"
Kein locked blades with Kasano again, his mouth moving as he said something inaudible to the crowd. Whatever it was, Kasano's face contorted with anger. He broke away with renewed fury, his dark aura intensifying.
With a guttural shout, Kasano thrust his free hand forward. Serpentine shadows erupted from his aura, writhing tendrils that shot toward Kein like living weapons.
"Cross Flash!" Kein's voice rang out clearly this time.
His luminous blade traced two perpendicular arcs so quickly they appeared simultaneous. The intersecting paths of light sliced through the shadow serpents, vaporizing them on contact. Not a single tendril reached him.
Across the arena, Valen had dropped to one knee, her crossbow planted firmly against the ground. She was drawing energy into the weapon—the same power charge technique Vel had seen Mora use at the outpost, and Miria in her earlier match.
Vel leaned forward, his entire body tense as Valen released her charged shot. The crossbow kicked back violently against her shoulder, nearly knocking her off balance. The power she'd poured into the weapon was evident in how the bolt tore through the air, leaving a visible disturbance in its wake. Sand particles scattered in its path, the projectile moving faster than any normal bolt had right to travel.
"She's trying to break through with sheer force," Vel muttered, recognizing the technique.
The bolt streaked toward Prince Eldrin. His perpetual smile dimmed.
He lifted the harp high and spun. The rotation carried him downward into a kneel, the instrument settling against his raised knee. In the same breath, his fingers found a single string.
A pure, impossibly high note rang out across the arena.
What happened next defied everything Vel understood about physics. The bolt—which had been traveling with enough force to punch through armor—suddenly slowed mid-flight. Its momentum drained away as if moving through invisible molasses.
The projectile's rotation slowed, then stopped completely. The deadly bolt hung mid-air, motionless, before dropping.
Eldrin extended his hand beneath it, palm upward. The bolt fell into his grasp as easily as catching a piece of fruit. He rose from his kneel, turning toward Valen across the arena. With his smile restored, he held up the bolt and gave it a cheerful wave—as if returning something she'd dropped.
"Did he just... cancel her attack with a musical note?" Tomas asked, equally stunned.
Vel's mind raced, trying to make sense of what he'd witnessed. This wasn't simple air manipulation like Lysithea's earlier deflection. The prince hadn't redirected the bolt—he'd completely nullified its kinetic energy.
"Resonance manipulation," Vel realized, the principles clicking into place. "He matched the frequency of the bolt's movement and created a counter-frequency to cancel it out."
This went far beyond basic air elemental magic. The prince wasn't just controlling wind—he was manipulating the fundamental vibrations of matter itself.
But what struck Vel most—Eldrin's lips never moved. Wasn't silent casting supposed to be incredibly difficult? Something only experienced mages achieved?
Across the arena, Valen's crossbow dipped toward the ground. Her shoulders sagged, the fight draining from her posture as she stared at the prince who'd just caught her finishing shot like it was nothing.
"He's not using incantations," Vel whispered, leaning forward. "How is that possible at his age?"
Before anyone could respond, Prince Eldrin made a flourishing gesture toward Kein—a silent signal that transformed their already devastating coordination into something else entirely.
The prince rotated the harp in his hands, letting it complete a full turn before catching it firmly. His fingers swept across the strings in a rising crescendo—each note climbing higher than the last.
Then he continued playing, but no melody emerged. Just sound.
A deep, bone-rattling resonance filled the arena—not the sharp disruptive waves from before, but a sustained vibration that seemed to permeate the very air. The sand beneath the combatants rippled in concentric patterns, and Vel felt the wooden bench beneath him humming in sympathy.
Team Kasano froze mid-motion, their bodies caught in the resonance field. Ulmak's mouth hung open in a silent cry, Valen's arms locked in position as she attempted to reload her crossbow, and Kasano himself stood paralyzed with his blade half-raised.
"They're completely immobilized," Tomas gasped.
Kein shifted into an ox guard stance—the same foundation Celia used for Trinity Volt, but different. Instead of the sword over his shoulder, he raised it high above his head, blade held horizontal. His body began to glow with intensifying light.
In an instant, Kein's human form dissolved. Pure radiance took its place—a beam of golden-white light that shot across the arena, ricocheting between the three paralyzed opponents.
Vel's perception struggled to track the movement—one moment Kein was beside Kasano, the next he flashed past Valen, then reappeared behind Ulmak. The light moved with impossible speed, creating afterimages that made it appear as if Kein existed in multiple places simultaneously.
The light halted, resolidifying into Kein's form directly behind Ulmak. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then three protective charms shattered simultaneously, disintegrating into glittering particles that rained down onto the arena sand.
The arena fell completely silent. Even Janos, who had been providing enthusiastic commentary throughout, seemed at a loss for words.
The silence held for several breaths.
Then horns sounded—the royal guards who'd positioned themselves along the walls earlier. They raised their instruments in unison, playing a brief victorious fanfare.
The crowd erupted. Some spectators shot to their feet, others remained frozen in their seats, still processing what they'd witnessed.
"How does anyone fight against that?" Tomas asked, his voice barely audible.
"What sword art was that?" Celia leaned forward, eyes still locked on the arena.
Vel's memory offered only one answer, though it didn't fully explain what he'd just witnessed.
Flash Step.
A sword art designed for a single directional burst—concentrated speed in one direction. What Kein performed looked identical at first glance.
But he'd chained it three times. Changed targets mid-execution.
That shouldn't work. The technique didn't curve or gradually shift direction. Kein had stopped completely between each strike—three separate, distinct dashes. At that speed, stopping abruptly would create massive reaction force from his own momentum. Either he'd somehow absorbed all that force himself, or...
Or someone had softened the impact.
"Lysithea..." Vel breathed.
Of course. Kein couldn't have done it alone. Air barriers positioned at precise coordinates—invisible cushions that caught his momentum after each strike. He'd bounced off them, redirecting into the next Flash Step. Then repeated it twice more.
It wasn't just raw power. It was coordination refined to the edge of what was physically possible.
"WHAT DID WE JUST WITNESS?!" Janos's voice boomed over the cheering. "Ladies and gentlemen, what we've just saw with our very eyes may be the most flawless execution of coordinated combat in tournament history! THREE opponents neutralized in what appeared to be a single INSTANT!"
Vel turned to look at Celia beside him. Her expression had transformed from shock to something else entirely—determination mixed with an intensity he'd rarely seen. She gripped the hand rail tightly, her eyes fixed on the victors below.
The gulf between them had never seemed wider. While Vel and Celia had spent years training in Elnor with wooden swords and basic techniques, Kein had clearly been immersed in elite instruction with access to resources they couldn't have imagined.
"They're not just better equipped," Vel said quietly. "They're playing an entirely different game."
On the arena floor, Team Atherwind showed no celebration. Kein's expression remained neutral. Lysithea tucked a strand of copper-blonde hair behind her ear. Prince Eldrin casually adjusted his harp's strings. They carried themselves as if the outcome had been obvious from the start.
"They don't even look happy about winning," Rohen observed. "Like this was just... expected."
"Thank the gods I'm not in the dueling matches," Mira said from behind them. "Our objective challenges suddenly seem much more appealing."
Vel glanced at his friends' faces, noting the creeping dread in their expressions. The strategy was intimidating—he couldn't deny that.
But as someone who'd built the foundation of this world's systems, Vel knew one truth: every formation had a weakness, every strategy a counter. The real question wasn't whether those weaknesses existed.
It was whether he had enough information—or time—to find them.
"We still have Severin to worry about before we even get to them," Vel said, his voice steadier than he felt. "And whatever they just pulled off down there—I know it wasn't one person. It was all three of them working together. Teamwork, not individual strength."
Vel placed a hand on Celia's shoulder, feeling the tension in her muscles. "Hey," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the excited murmurs of the crowd.
Celia glanced at him.
"Even if we lost against that," Vel continued, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, "at least fight them at the final match. That's enough to guarantee our position in the academy."
Something shifted in Celia's expression—a flash of indignation that transformed her entire demeanor. She straightened her back, her jaw set with determination.
"Lose? Against Kein?" She met Vel's gaze directly, a fierce light rekindling in her eyes. "That was never in my book."
Vel couldn't help but smile at her response. "That's the spirit."
The arena suddenly filled with Janos Verterre's booming voice, announcing the conclusion. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! What an EXTRAORDINARY display of talent we've witnessed today! Our competitors have shown us skill, strategy, and SORCERY beyond expectation!"
The announcer's voice and the responding roar of the crowd drowned out any further conversation between them. As the spectators began to rise from their seats, Vel noticed movement on the arena floor.
Kein and Lysithea had paused their exit, both turning to look directly up at where Vel and Celia stood. Despite the considerable distance between them, Vel could feel the intensity of their gaze—a silent acknowledgment laden with unspoken challenge.
The prince stood slightly behind them, his expression untroubled as he cradled his harp against his chest. Unlike his teammates, he seemed merely curious rather than confrontational. His eyes kept shifting between Vel's group and his own companions—back and forth, as if comparing something.
For a moment, the four of them remained locked in this silent exchange, the crowd's movement and noise fading into the background.
Then, without a word or gesture of acknowledgment, Kein turned away. Lysithea followed suit, and the prince gave what might have been the slightest of nods before they all walked toward the exit tunnel, disappearing into the shadows beneath the coliseum.