The cheers from the first match were still ringing in my ears as I made my way back into the underground waiting hall. The energy in the tournament had shifted—where before I was just an unknown village boy, now every competitor was watching me closely, reassessing their previous assumptions.
I wasn't just some nobody anymore.
I was a real threat.
And I was only getting started.
Watching the Competition
After a quick rinse to wash the sweat from my first match, I leaned against the wall of the waiting area, watching the other matches unfold through the enchanted display—one of the many mana-infused mirrors scattered throughout the Academy that reflected live events in real-time.
I studied Darian Voss' match, watching how he dismantled his opponent without even breaking a sweat. His silver sword moved like liquid, his technique so precise that every attack felt planned seconds in advance. His opponent—a second-year fire mage—never even landed a hit before Darian knocked him out cold.
Elara, who had been watching beside me, exhaled. "He's good."
I smirked. "He's not unbeatable."
She gave me a skeptical look. "You didn't even flinch watching that match."
I shrugged. "I'm just thinking about how I'm going to beat him."
Before she could respond, the next match caught my attention.
A name flashed across the enchanted display.
Kieran Valen.
I straightened, my curiosity piqued. I had only heard whispers about him—a first-year like me, yet no one really knew where he had come from. He had breezed through his first match, but I hadn't seen him fight yet.
The screen displayed his opponent—a heavily built third-year wielding a warhammer, standing a full head taller than him. But Kieran looked unfazed.
The match started.
And then, it ended.
I barely saw it.
In one movement, Kieran sidestepped the warhammer strike, flicked his wrist, and landed a precise hit—a mere tap on his opponent's chest.
A second later, the third-year collapsed unconscious, as if his very soul had been snuffed out.
Elara inhaled sharply beside me. "What was that?"
I narrowed my eyes. That wasn't mana. That was something else entirely.
For the first time in this tournament, I felt genuine unease.
A Growing Reputation
By the time the first rounds had ended, I had won three consecutive matches, each more difficult than the last. My body ached from bruises, my mana reserves were starting to thin, but the adrenaline kept me sharp.
After my third victory, as I sat on the stone bench catching my breath, a group of older students passed by.
One of them, a noble student with an expensive cloak, gave me a curt nod of respect.
Another murmured under his breath, "That kid's no joke."
Even the instructors watching from the sidelines had begun whispering among themselves.
I wasn't just another competitor anymore.
I was making an impression.
But I couldn't afford to slow down.
The Quarterfinals: Sylas vs. Alys Thean
The crowd had grown wilder by the time my next match was called. The quarterfinals meant I was now among the final eight competitors—one step closer to facing Darian and Kieran in the semis and finals.
My opponent this time?
Alys Thean.
Unlike my previous fights, this one was different.
Alys wasn't just a swordswoman—she was a battlemage, wielding both magic and blade in perfect harmony. Her weapon of choice was a short saber, light and wickedly sharp, complemented by a knack for lightning magic.
I had seen her previous fights. She was quick, calculated, and relentless.
And from the moment we stepped onto the battlefield, she was already smirking.
"I've been waiting for this," Alys admitted, spinning her saber effortlessly as sparks of electricity crackled at her fingertips. "You've been interesting to watch, Sylas."
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. "Glad I could entertain."
She grinned. "Try not to die too fast."
The proctor raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Lightning and Steel
Alys didn't waste a second.
She lunged instantly, closing the gap with unnatural speed, her saber blazing with electricity.
I barely dodged as she swiped across my chest, the crackling blade cutting through the air just inches from me. A split second later, a bolt of lightning shot from her free hand, forcing me to throw myself to the side.
She wasn't playing around.
Her dual attacks were fast and fluid, magic and steel moving together in perfect sync.
If I let her control the tempo, I was dead.
I shifted my footwork, waiting—then moved in.
The next time she swung, I parried with my dagger, deflecting her saber just enough to throw off her next attack. Before she could recover, I went for a counterstrike—but she was faster.
Electricity surged through her blade, and the moment my dagger made contact, a jolt of mana-infused lightning ripped up my arm.
I gritted my teeth as pain exploded through my body, my muscles spasming for a brief second—just enough time for Alys to slam her foot into my stomach and send me skidding backward.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
She smirked. "You felt that, didn't you?"
I exhaled, shaking the numbness out of my arm. "You'll have to hit harder than that."
She grinned, mana crackling at her fingertips. "Gladly."
Breaking the Storm
Alys started attacking more aggressively, her saber flashing in arcs of electric blue, each strike accompanied by a crack of thunder.
But I had seen her pattern now.
Her magic surged at the end of her attacks, meaning the best time to strike was before she gathered energy.
When she lunged again, I didn't dodge.
I stepped into her attack, pivoted at the last second, and redirected her momentum past me.
The moment she stumbled forward, I struck her wrist, forcing her to drop her saber.
Her eyes widened.
Before she could react, I grabbed her collar and threw her to the ground—but she wasn't done yet.
Electricity erupted from her hands, forcing me to jump back as the ground split apart with raw energy.
Alys rolled to her feet, gasping, but her body was shaking now, her mana clearly drained.
I adjusted my stance, dagger still in hand. "Surrender."
She exhaled sharply, frustration flashing in her eyes—then she smirked.
"Fine," she admitted. "You win."
The proctor raised his hand.
"Winner—Sylas!"
The crowd exploded.
A New Challenge Ahead
As Alys and I left the battlefield, she fell into step beside me, glancing at me curiously.
"You fight smart," she admitted, stretching her sore arm. "I like that."
I raised a brow. "You're taking this loss well."
She grinned. "Oh, I'm pissed. But I'll get my rematch someday."
I chuckled. "I'll be waiting."
Then, a familiar voice cut through the crowd.
"Well, well. You actually made it this far."
I turned, meeting the smug grin of Darian Voss, who leaned casually against a pillar, arms crossed.
"You've had some decent fights," he admitted. "But your next match? That's where this little fantasy of yours ends."
I smirked, stepping forward. "That's funny. I was about to tell you the same thing."
His grin widened. "Then I'll see you in the semifinals."
As he walked away, my hands clenched into fists.
Darian was next.
And I was going to enjoy shutting him up once and for all.