The competition format was straightforward—everyone duels everyone else. Six competitors meant five rounds total, with three matches in each round.
Valen had already won his first match against Roland with decisive efficiency. Now he settled in to observe the others, curious to see how his cousins fought when it actually mattered.
"Second bout—Dan versus Celeste!"
Celeste had been training with swords since before she could properly walk, pushed into it by a mother who'd never achieved her own martial ambitions. The result was a spoiled personality wrapped around genuinely lethal skills—the kind of contradiction that made her simultaneously insufferable and impressive.
Dan had received a different kind of pressure. When Marcus disappeared, Dan's family line suddenly became the official heirs overnight. Every resource the Duke possessed had redirected toward him—the best instructors, unlimited training time, access to techniques usually reserved for the main line. The attention had made him arrogant, but it had also made him dangerous.
Dan entered carrying a heater shield—triangular, roughly two feet tall, the Ashford wolf with stars crest emblazoned in silver against midnight blue. The metal surface had that telltale shimmer of enchantment, tiny runes etched along its border. In his other hand, he carried a bastard sword that could adapt to one-handed or two-handed grips depending on need.
Smart loadout, Valen thought. Defensive capability with flexibility.
Celeste towered over most of her cousins at six feet tall, her growth spurt having hit early and hard. The longsword in her hands looked proportional rather than oversized—nearly five feet of steel that she wielded with the ease of long familiarity.
"Begin!"
Celeste charged immediately. No hesitation, no testing—just a straightforward overhead slash using gravity and momentum to add devastating force.
Aggressive, Valen noted. Testing his defense right away to see if he'll crack under pressure.
Dan's shield erupted with blue light. A translucent barrier projected outward—geometric hexagonal cells forming a hemisphere of contained mana about a foot from his body.
The barrier caught Celeste completely off-guard. Her blade struck the magical defense and stopped dead, impact reverberating through the hexagonal pattern like ripples on water. Then the rebound effect kicked in—the barrier didn't just block, it reflected kinetic energy back at the attacker.
Celeste stumbled backward, arms jarred by her own redirected force.
Enchanted shield, Valen confirmed. Expensive. Probably a Rank 2 Core Crystal embedded in it.
Dan didn't waste the opening. His bastard sword thrust forward toward her exposed ribs with textbook precision.
But Celeste's eyes suddenly sharpened—that distinctive look of enhanced perception kicking in. She twisted away from the thrust and blocked his follow-up strike with movements that looked almost prescient.
Her innate skill gained from the potion, Valen realized. Enhanced perception. Makes everything else seem slower.
Celeste pressed her advantage, launching a flurry of strikes that forced Dan into pure defense. Each swing precisely angled to exploit gaps in his guard.
Then Dan's posture shifted subtly. His movements carried more force, more speed. When Celeste tried to circle him, he matched her repositioning effortlessly.
Dual buff, Valen observed. Strength and agility from his potion. The Duke invested so heavily in him.
The fight's outcome became clear. Dan could block everything Celeste threw at him while his superior strength disrupted her stance with every counter. She couldn't create distance, couldn't outlast him, couldn't break through his defense.
After one particularly brutal exchange that nearly tore the sword from her hands, Celeste stepped back.
"I yield."
The crowd erupted in cheers for Dan's victory. Valen noticed the pattern—servants and retainers all celebrated the main heir's line with practiced enthusiasm. Politics and bloodlines, same everywhere.
"Third bout—Marcus versus Lydia!"
Finally, Valen thought, attention sharpening. The interesting one.
Marcus had disappeared early, presumed dead, then reappeared a year ago without his sister and with skills no noble training could explain. The novel had mentioned him as someone important—someone who'd eventually ally with the protagonist.
But if he has protagonist-like abilities, why does he lose here and have to take the entrance exam? Valen wondered.
Lydia's parents called encouragements from the stands—they'd remained at the estate managing it unlike Valen's own. She entered with visible confidence, staff in hand, the Core Crystal at its tip catching afternoon light.
Valen didn't know her well. Different wings of the estate, paths crossing mainly at formal dinners. But from inherited memories, he knew she'd never joined the casual cruelty some cousins directed at Marcus after his return.
One of the decent ones, he thought.
Marcus entered opposite her, moving with economical grace. Twin daggers at his waist, positioned for quick ambidextrous draw.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Lydia spoke, loud enough to carry. "Marcus."
He waited.
"I was friends with your sister. Elena was kind to me when others weren't." Her voice softened. "I'm sorry for what happened to her."
Something flickered across Marcus's expression—old grief, carefully controlled. The kind you learned to carry because letting it out would be worse.
"I know this is just a competition," Lydia continued, "but I want you to fight seriously. For her sake. She would have wanted to see you at your best."
"She would have," Marcus agreed quietly. "So I'll show you what I learned to survive."
"Thank you. Don't hold back. I won't."
Interesting, Valen observed. Acknowledging the dead before violence. Some people still maintain rituals even when nobody's watching.
Theodore announced: "Begin!"
Marcus exploded into motion, his enhanced agility making him a blur. He closed half the distance in a heartbeat.
But Lydia was ready. Her staff swept through a pattern, and a shimmering barrier materialized—spherical, encompassing her completely. Unlike Dan's fixed shield, this one moved with her, responding to her will.
Adaptive defense, Valen noted. Harder to counter than a static barrier.
Marcus's daggers struck from two angles simultaneously, testing for weaknesses. The barrier rippled but held.
Lydia didn't waste time. Fire Bullets began launching from her staff—compressed spheres of flame shooting toward Marcus like missiles.
Resource management problem now, Valen thought. Can he break through before exhaustion hits? Can she maintain offense and defense long enough?
Marcus dodged three bullets with inhuman agility. The fourth grazed his shoulder. The fifth caught him square in the side as he committed to a desperate lunge.
The smell of burned cloth and flesh filled the arena. Marcus stumbled, speed faltering.
"I forfeit."
Healers rushed forward. Valen watched them work—diagnostic spells, cooling salves, the practiced efficiency of people who'd treated combat injuries countless times.
Round Two matched Valen against Marcus.
They faced each other across the arena. Marcus's burn had been healed, but Valen noticed the faint stiffness in his movements—body remembering trauma even after magical intervention.
Pain leaves echoes, Valen thought. Interesting.
"Begin!"
Valen raised his hand and fired. Air bullets in steady rhythm, maintaining distance, exploiting range advantage.
Marcus dodged the first few with enhanced agility—movements almost too fast to track properly.
But the arena was only so large, and dodging required stamina. Valen kept him moving, never allowing time to close distance or catch breath.
The seventh bullet clipped Marcus's shoulder. The eighth caught his thigh. By the fifteenth, he'd been hit in five places and was breathing hard.
"I yield."
Strange, Valen thought as Marcus headed to the healers. No foresight ability. Why not?
"The novel mentioned it requires significant life essence," Iris chimed in. "He likely only uses it for genuine life-or-death situations. Competitions with healers standing by doesn't qualify."
Makes sense.
Round Three: Valen versus Dan.
Dan entered with visible confidence, his enchanted shield gleaming. Valen had watched it stop Celeste's sword strikes without strain.
Enchanted artifacts run on embedded Core Crystals, Valen recalled. Separate mana supply from the user. He can block indefinitely without depleting himself.
"Begin!"
Valen fired. Dan raised his shield. The barrier absorbed each air bullet effortlessly while he walked forward, closing distance behind impenetrable defense.
This is hopeless, Valen admitted with surprising calm. Could fire for an hour and not breach that barrier. Meanwhile he gets closer every second.
When Dan entered striking range, sword raised, Valen stepped back and raised his hands.
"I yield."
No point taking an actual hit for pride's sake. This wasn't life or death—just a competition. Better to concede gracefully than get injured pointlessly.
The crowd seemed less impressed by his pragmatic retreat, but Valen found he didn't particularly care what they thought. They weren't the ones who'd have been on the receiving end of that sword.
Round Four: Valen versus Lydia.
Lydia activated her barrier immediately—the same adaptive defense that had stopped Marcus's daggers.
Different from Dan's shield, Valen observed. This one's powered by her own mana. Finite resource.
He began firing, watching the barrier absorb each impact.
Lydia responded with Fire Bullets, trying to force him into evasion.
But her fire bullets came individually—each one requiring concentration to conjure and aim. Between attacks were gaps. Plenty of time to sidestep and continue firing.
Continuous fire versus intermittent fire, Valen noted clinically. Attrition favors the continuous source.
The barrier shattered on the twenty-first air bullet, dissipating into blue motes. Lydia started casting another but the next air bullet struck her shoulder before it could form.
"I yield!"
Round Five: Valen versus Celeste.
She entered with visible determination, clearly hoping to redeem her earlier loss. Her longsword caught the light as she took her stance.
"Begin!"
Celeste activated enhanced perception immediately. The world probably seemed to slow around her—each individual air bullet visible, trajectory calculable.
She can see them coming, Valen observed. But seeing and avoiding are different problems.
She dodged the first five with grace that looked choreographed. The sixth through tenth required increasingly desperate movements as her positioning options narrowed.
The eleventh caught her arm—glancing hit that disrupted her balance.
After that it cascaded. Each hit made dodging the next one harder. Her enhanced perception showed her exactly what was about to hit her but couldn't make her body fast enough to avoid everything.
"I yield!"
Enhanced perception without unlimited stamina, Valen noted. Knowing what's coming doesn't matter if you can't respond indefinitely.
The final match: Dan versus Marcus.
Stakes were clear. If Marcus won, Roland would face the entrance exam. If Marcus lost, he would.
The crowd noise increased as both entered. Dan radiated confidence—shield and sword ready, every advantage on his side. Marcus looked focused and calm, expression of someone who'd survived far worse than competition matches.
This is where the novel's timeline becomes real, Valen realized. Marcus losing here, taking the entrance exam, meeting the protagonist there.
"Final bout—Dan versus Marcus! Begin!"
Dan started with words rather than weapons. "Should have stayed lost in those ruins, wild boy. At least there you wouldn't embarrass the family in front of everyone."
Marcus didn't respond verbally. Just activated his enhanced agility and closed distance explosively.
Dan's barrier flared to life. His dual-enhancement activated. Strength and speed together, backed by impenetrable defense.
Every advantage, Valen observed dispassionately. Better equipment, better ability, home crowd. This should be quick.
Marcus's daggers tested the barrier from multiple angles—precise, calculated strikes looking for any weakness. Each one deflected harmlessly. When he tried circling, Dan matched his movement, keeping the barrier between them.
"Is this really all you learned out there?" Dan taunted. "I expected more from someone who supposedly survived monsters."
Trying to provoke emotional mistakes. Valen noted. Classic.
But Marcus stayed focused. His attacks remained precise rather than wild, testing response times and coverage patterns.
Then Dan shifted from pure defense to mixing in sword strikes. Forcing Marcus to dodge while dealing with the barrier preventing counterattacks.
Unsustainable resource drain, Valen thought. Marcus burns stamina at triple Dan's rate.
Nothing changed. Marcus fought with impressive skill, but his enhanced agility began failing as exhaustion set in. Dodges became slower, strikes less precise.
Dan's overhead swing forced Marcus into a desperate backward leap. He landed poorly, balance compromised.
Dan's shield slammed forward, magical barrier striking Marcus's chest and driving him to the ground.
"Yield," Dan commanded, standing over him with sword raised.
Marcus hesitated—pride warring with pragmatism—then chose wisely.
"I yield."
The crowd erupted. Valen watched Marcus accept a healer's help standing, expression carefully neutral despite obvious disappointment.
And that's how it happens, Valen thought. Marcus loses. Takes the exam. Meets the protagonist. The novel's timeline proceeds exactly as written.
Grand Warrior Theodore announced the final results:
"Dan—five victories. Valentine—four victories. Lydia—three victories. Celeste—two victories. Roland—one victory. Marcus—zero victories."
The pronouncement hung in the air.
"Therefore, Marcus will undergo the Academy's standard entrance examination. The remaining five have earned direct admission through family recommendation."
Valen watched the reactions. Dan basking in victory. Celeste disappointed but resigned. Roland relieved he wasn't last. Lydia sympathetic toward Marcus. Marcus himself showing nothing.
Five days until the Academy term begins, Valen thought.