The day of the competition finally arrived.
From early morning, the academy arena was alive with noise. A massive crowd of students poured into the stands, their voices merging into a single restless roar. This was not merely a tournament—it was tradition, ambition, and pride condensed into one brutal test.
The rules were simple.
You fought until you won, forfeited, or were deemed unable to continue by an instructor.
There were no second chances.
The competition spanned several days. The first and second days were reserved for first-year students. The third day belonged to the second years, the fourth and fifth to the third years, and the sixth to the fourth years. The final day were unlike the rest—events focused on magic theory, artifact mastery, research application, and full-scale magic performance, where students would demonstrate not strength alone, but understanding.
Participation required only one thing: being a student of the academy.
To accommodate the sheer number of competitors—one hundred and fifty first-year students alone—six elevated stages had been prepared across the arena floor, allowing multiple matches to take place simultaneously.
Rick sat quietly among the competitors, his posture relaxed, eyes calm.
His match had not yet been called.
On the first day alone, he would fight three times—two opponents from B-Class and one from C-Class. For most students, it was an exhausting schedule.
For Rick, it felt distant. Almost unreal.
Before the tournament could begin, a powerful voice echoed across the arena.
"Before we start, let us hear a few words from the headmaster of our academy."
The air shimmered as an instructor amplified his voice with magic, gesturing toward the elevated seats reserved for the academy's leadership.
Headmaster Nuel stood.
He raised one hand, and silence spread through the arena like a wave.
"I am pleased," he said, his voice steady and commanding, "to see so many students participating."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"This tournament is your chance," Nuel continued, "to stand in the city arena before the public. To show not only your strength, but your resolve. Give everything you have."
His gaze sharpened.
"And do not forget—there are rewards for every winner."
A pause.
"Now," he said, lowering his hand, "let the tournament begin."
For a heartbeat, the arena was still.
Then—
"YEAHHH!"
The crowd erupted, cheers crashing against the arena walls as magic flared to life. The competition had begun.
Matches unfolded rapidly across the stages. Steel clashed. Spells collided. Shouts of victory and groans of defeat echoed through the air.
But for now, most fights were predictable—C-Class and D-Class students struggling for dominance, raw power without refinement.
Rick watched quietly.
Then, the crowd's attention shifted.
It was time for Rome's match.
His opponent stepped onto the stage—a B-Class student, confident, sharp-eyed, brimming with arrogance.
The air tightened.
But Rick would not be able to witness the earlier matches. His own bout was approaching, and the weight of it pressed heavily on his chest.
Leaving the seating area behind, he descended toward the resting zone beneath the arena—where fighters gathered in silence, sharpening their focus for what awaited them on the stage.
The waiting area was crowded with students from every class, each preparing in their own way—some stretching, others whispering prayers, a few staring blankly ahead.
At the entrance stood an instructor, methodically calling out names, announcing whose match was next. Rick stood among them, heart pounding, until at last the shout rang out:
"Student Rick. Come forward."
The sound of his name sent a jolt through him. Swallowing his nerves, Rick stepped ahead and approached the instructor.
"I'm Rick," he said.
"Good. Wait here until a stage is free," the instructor replied, eyes already scanning the arena.
Moments later, an announcement echoed through the hall. "The match on stage four has ended. The winner is —Rome from D-Class—was declared."
Rick allowed himself a faint, tense smile as the instructor gestured toward the stage.
"Stage Four."
Rick stepped out from the entrance, leaving the safety of the resting area behind. The arena opened before him—vast, loud, and overwhelming. His eyes darted across the crowd as he made his way forward, searching instinctively for someone familiar.
Then he saw him.
Rome.
Rick stopped short, disbelief flashing across his face.
"You took your sweet time defeating him," Rick muttered as Rome approached.
"Well, what did you expect?" Rome replied calmly. "He's the strongest in B-Class and beside he can use a little bit of Sword-Aura."
Rick exhaled sharply, still catching his breath. The realization struck him hard that Rome had defeated someone of that caliber.
Before Rick could say more, a loud voice cut through the noise of the arena.
"Student Rick! Hurry up to the stage!"
"You should go. We'll talk later," Rome said.
Rick nodded and climbed onto the stage. The moment he appeared, countless eyes turned toward him. Whispers rippled through the stands. And it was given since became the subject of the Academy's attention—spoken of in hushed tones, rumors trailing his name.
His opponent soon stepped forward—someone from B-Class. Rick braced himself, expecting a brutal, drawn-out battle.
But it never came.
The opponent hesitated… then raised a hand and said
"I forfeit."
The match ended before it began.
The crowd erupted into shocked murmurs. This was the first time a contestant had surrendered without throwing a single blow. Rick stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether to feel relief or unease.
He had won.
But the silence that followed felt heavier than any fight.
Rick was confused.
He did not fully understand what he was feeling—but he knew one thing with absolute certainty now.
They feared him.
Whispers followed wherever he stood. Eyes avoided his gaze. After his opponent forfeited without a single strike, the truth became undeniable. And when the next two opponent did the same, surrendering before even stepping onto the stage, it was confirmed—Rick had become someone the students no longer wished to face.
With the third forfeit, Rick secured his place among the Top Twenty of the tournament.
Only one match remained.
One final victory, and he would stand on the main stage during Foundation Day—the moment every student dreamed of.
Yet while Rick's rise was quiet and unsettling, Rome's path was anything but.
Rome drew the attention of instructors and students alike. Not only had he defeated the strongest fighter in B-Class, but he had also gone on to defeat a formidable opponent from A-Class.
The shock rippled through the Academy. Even Rick found himself stunned by the outcome.
Rome, like Rick, had entered the Top Twenty.
But not everyone shared their fate.
Leze and Krai both fell in their matches. Leze was defeated in his second bout by a student from A-Class. Krai was eliminated in his very first match—overwhelmed by a C-Class opponent. Now, the two sat beside Rick, watching the arena in silence, their eyes fixed on Rome as he stood victorious.
"He really is something else," Krai muttered, awe lingering in his voice.
"But Rick is amazing too," Leze added quietly. "This is the first time students from D-Class have made it into the Top Twenty."
Krai forced a faint smile.
"Yeah… In the Top Twenty, everyone else is from A or B-Class. Except you two."
His voice faltered. "Even C-Class doesn't have anyone there. You're both incredible."
But Rick saw through the smile.
He saw the disappointment. The frustration. The quiet pain of defeat.
Turning to them, Rick spoke—not with pride, but with honesty.
"We're not amazing," he said. "These results aren't luck. They're the result of hard work. And I'm not saying you didn't work hard."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"But hard work alone isn't enough if your mindset tells you that you can't win. If you go into a fight already thinking, I can't beat him, then you've already lost."
Rick looked directly at Krai.
"With effort comes belief. And belief means never giving up. Don't look down on yourselves."
The words lingered between them.
Hearing Rick's words, Leze and Krai slowly lifted their heads.
"You're right," Krai said quietly.
Leze smiled—small, but genuine. And just like that, the first day of the tournament came to an end.
That evening, far from the noise of the arena, silence ruled the headmaster's office.
Nuel sat behind his desk, a sealed letter resting heavily in his hand. His expression was grave. Before him stood Blaze, posture straight, eyes sharp.
"What does the letter say, my lord?" Blaze asked.
Nuel exhaled slowly.
"The Wink Kingdom is mobilizing its army," he said. "We've been ordered to send troops toward the eastern border."
Blaze's jaw tightened.
"But my lord, they haven't provided any justification. And because of that, the Continental Union will surely interfere."
"That is precisely the problem," Nuel continued, his voice rising. "They are only mobilizing—not attacking. The Union won't intervene unless blood is spilled."
Nuel leaned back in his chair, fingers pressing against his temple.
"Just what the hell are they thinking."
Blaze hesitated, then asked, "Will you be joining the front, my lord?"
"For now, we will only send a portion of our forces," Nuel replied after a pause. "But I still hope it won't come to war."
He stood.
"Prepare the troops."
Blaze bowed deeply and left the room, the doors closing behind him and leaving Nuel alone with his thoughts.
Meanwhile, deep beneath the Royal Capital—
Hidden corridors stretched beneath the palace, lit only by faint magical sigils. Grey walked briskly through the underground passage, his footsteps echoing against stone.
"Is he on the line?" Grey asked sharply.
"Yes, Your Majesty," came the reply.
Grey entered the chamber.
A massive magical projection hovered in the air, its light illuminating the room. A figure appeared within it—a powerful member of Union.
"Grey, long time no see." the man greeted.
"Enough formalities," Grey said coldly. "I want to know the Union's stance on the situation with the Wink Kingdom."
The man straightened.
"You already know the answer," he said firmly. "We can only take action if they attack. We cannot intervene based on suspicion alone."
Grey's eyes narrowed.
"So even if everyone sees what they're doing… we must wait."
"We cannot act without proof," the man replied. "Stopping them now would make Union interfering with there national army."
The projection flickered softly as silence filled the room.
"I see. But Sir Gram, I can't just sit back and wait until the Wink Kingdom attacks us," Grey said sharply. "I'm mobilizing our army as well. That's all."
"Grey—It isn't that i don't want to help you," Gram replied in aloud voice. "But You are smart enough to know what's happening."
"I do," Grey answered coldly. "Goodbye."
The projection vanished mid-sentence.
The situation was becoming more serious by the hour.
Somewhere near Leon City—
"Is everything ready?" Royce asked-First seat of the Spider.
"Yes. Everything is prepared. All members near Leon City have been gathered."Mrith-seventh seat of the spider.
Royce nodded.
"Good. With that everything is in place,now there's only two week left until Foundation Day."
A faint smile touched his lips.
And just like that, the event drew closer—while no one truly understood what was coming.
The next morning, Rick and his roommates headed toward the academy grounds together.
"Apparently the Wink Kingdom is mobilizing their army," Krai said, eyes fixed on the newspaper in his hands. "And in response, we're mobilizing ours too."
"Yeah," Rick replied. "I read that as well. It's serious."
"But I don't think they'll attack," Rick continued calmly. "The Union's rules won't allow it. And even if they did… I'm sure our army could handle them."
"Yeah, you're right," Leze agreed with a nod.
Rick smiled faintly.
"By the way," Rome asked casually, "when's your next match, Rick?"
"It's the first one," Rick replied. "Against an A-Class student named Ark."
Krai whistled softly, slipping an arm around Rick's neck.
"Ark, huh? Looks like you're in for a tough fight."
"I already know that," Rick said, brushing Krai's arm aside.
"But you should still be careful. I heard he can use the Sword-Aura form for a short time. That means he's very close to reaching the level of an Aura Master."
Leze's voice was low, edged with concern.
"Meanwhile, you're still only at the level of External Aura Art."Leze added.
Rick didn't respond immediately.
"Yeah, that's right," Rome nodded. "Rick, you'd better be careful."
Krai nodded in agreement, worry clear on his face.
Rick exhaled, irritation flickering through his expression.
"I already know that," he repeated. "By the way, your opponent is from B-Class. So I don't think someone who already defeated an A-Class student is going to lose."
He turned toward Rome.
"Are you?"
Rome answered only with a faint, confident smile.
"Of course not."
Before long, they reached the arena.
Rick parted from his roommates and headed toward the waiting area. Since his match was the first of the day, there was little time to spare. The air felt heavier than before—charged with anticipation.
When his turn finally came, Rick stepped forward.
Today was different.
For the first time, he would fight in front of a crowd this large.
The arena opened before him, a single stage standing at its center. The instructor waited there—along with Rick's opponent.
Ark.
Rick climbed onto the stage.
"You'd better give up," Ark said coldly, resting a hand on his sword. "You were lucky. Your previous opponents were scared of you and forfeited. But I'm not like them."
The instructor raised his voice.
"Are both of you ready?"
Rick's eyes never left Ark.
"Sorry," Rick said calmly, reaching for his blade. "After that little cool speech i gave yesterday to my friend's,… I don't think I can give up now."
Steel rang through the arena as Rick drew his sword.
All around them, the crowd leaned forward.
With so many eyes watching, the outcome of this fight would decide whether Rick would step into the main event or not.
But regardless of who won—
The greater event already set in motion could no longer be stopped.