The sea had vanished.
In its place stood a newly formed ruin of stone and shadow, jagged walls rising beneath the stadium lights.
The announcer's voice carried clearly across the arena. "The tournament now shifts to the Knight Division's first event — Simulated Battlefield Trial!"
The Simulated Battlefield Trial was a large-scale 4v4 team-based match. As with the previous event, it was divided into two groups.
Each academy fielded two independent four-member teams, resulting in nine teams per group and eighteen teams overall.
Every match took place in a dynamic battlefield arena that changed terrain configurations between rounds, requiring real-time adaptation. The environments include urban ruins, dense forests, and complex city grids.
Each environment affected visibility, mobility, and tactical positioning.
Randomized variables—elevated platforms, choke points, broken corridors—forced teams to reassess their surroundings constantly and adjust their formations in real time.
Above the arena, massive screens rotated through possible mission objectives—Capture, Defense, Escort, Suppression. Each round would randomly assign one moments before the match started.
In Capture, teams fought to seize and secure a designated control point.
In Defense, each side protected a massive monolithic stone for a fixed duration—while simultaneously attempting to shatter the opposing side's.
Escort required guiding a fragile puppet construct across hostile terrain without letting it be destroyed.
Suppression was the simplest in concept—Eliminate the opposing unit entirely.
A new diagram unfolded across the massive projection screen above the arena. Grids shifted and reorganized, dividing the nine teams into three distinct clusters.
Alex narrowed his eyes slightly, studying the layout.
"So it's not a straight ladder." he murmured.
Each group of nine was split into three sub-pools, with three teams assigned to each. Within every sub-pool, a round-robin format would be followed.
Each team would face the other two once—three matches per sub-pool, nine pool matches per group.
The announcer's voice rang clearly as the scoring format materialized beside the diagram.
"Win — 3 points. Draw — 1 point. Loss — 0 points."
Three points for a win created immediate pressure to play aggressively rather than defensively. A single loss could shift the entire balance of a sub-pool.
Teams would be ranked by total accumulated points within their respective pools.
The scoreboard graphic shifted, demonstrating how quickly standings could overturn after just one match.
The announcer continued.
"In the event of equal points among all three teams within a sub-pool — a scenario referred to as a Three-Way Tie, or Round-Robin Tie — rankings would be determined by sequential tiebreakers: total individual rounds won, round differential, fastest recorded victory time, and, if necessary, a sudden-death playoff match."
A faint murmur rippled through the stadium.
There would be no easy advancement.
Even time itself could become a weapon.
At the conclusion of the pool stage, the three sub-pool winners would advance to the knockout stage. They would be joined by the highest-ranked second-place team across the group. Four semifinalists in total.
The semifinals would narrow that number to two. Those victors would clash in the group final, where the Group Champion would be decided.
Each group would therefore conduct twelve matches overall—nine pool matches, two semifinals, and one final.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
This was a Knight's match — a pure physical combat event where even the slightest use of mana was strictly forbidden.
The simulated battlefield operated under suppression formations, dampening mana across the arena to ensure absolute fairness.
Still, because Alex was officially registered as a mage, regulations required him to wear a mana-restriction band during every Knight event.
The band felt heavier than it looked.
A thin metallic circlet clasped around his wrist, its engraved runes faintly glowing as they sealed his internal flow. He flexed his fingers once. An unnatural stillness settled within his core.
The screen above shifted again, displaying the sub-pools.
This time, he had been placed in Group A.
The nine teams within it were divided into three clusters.
Star Shine Academy had been placed in Pool 1 alongside Crimson Bastion Academy and Greyfield School.
Pool 2 consisted of Iron Ward Academy, Ashford Institute, and Leycross Academy.
Pool 3 included Blitz War Institute, Dawnspire Academy, and Stone Gate Academy.
Crimson Bastion Academy was last year's champion. Greyfield School was no pushover either, known for meticulous planning and disciplined formations.
"This won't be simple." he murmured.
The stadium lights dimmed slightly as the first match pairing appeared on screen.
Star Shine Academy vs Crimson Bastion Academy.
A ripple of excitement surged through the audience. This was the matchup many had been waiting for.
The terrain selection locked in: City Ruins. Broken towers rose from fractured streets. Collapsed buildings formed natural choke points and obstructed sightlines. High platforms overlooked narrow alleys. Cracked stone pathways twisted between debris fields.
Then the objective illuminated in bold letters.
Defense.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
Both teams moved into position.
Two massive stone monoliths rose at opposite ends of the ruined cityscape, embedded within cracked plazas surrounded by collapsed walls and shattered structures.
A glowing timer ignited above the battlefield.
The Defense mission had begun.
Though labeled Defense, the objective demanded balance.
Each team had to protect its own monolith while attempting to destroy the opponent's.
If neither stone fell before the timer expired, the result would be declared a draw.
Star Shine Academy gathered around their monolith, forming a loose but layered perimeter.
Across the ruined district, Crimson Bastion assembled in disciplined formation—shields raised, weapons angled forward.
Their posture radiated aggression.
Alex stood at the center of his team's formation.
"As expected," he said quietly, watching their opponents. "They won't sit back."
His strategy was simple.
The other three would remain behind and guard their monolith, using the surrounding ruins to create defensive choke points.
Alex would move alone.
And strike the enemy stone directly.
They had witnessed his strength during internal sparring sessions. None of them could match him individually. Even together, suppressing him when he fought seriously had proven nearly impossible.
That confidence formed the first reason they agreed.
The second was Crimson Bastion's reputation. They were known for relentless forward pressure—rarely content to hold position.
"They'll send at least two." one teammate said. "Maybe three."
Alex nodded. "Most likely."
There was no hesitation in their expressions.
If Crimson Bastion committed multiple attackers, their own monolith would be lightly guarded. Even if those attackers were stronger, three defenders positioned properly within urban terrain could stall effectively.
"You just need to delay them." Alex instructed. "Don't chase or stray far. Hold your position."
"And you?" another teammate asked.
Alex's gaze shifted toward the distant silhouette of the opposing monolith, partially obscured behind fractured towers.
"I'll finish it."
There was no arrogance in his tone. Only certainty—cold and calculated. If his teammates could hold, even briefly, his speed would decide the match.
The starting horn thundered across the simulated city.
Crimson Bastion moved immediately.
And without another word, Alex surged forward alone, accelerating into the maze of ruins as the battle began.
As expected, Alex hadn't gone far before two figures stepped into his path.
Crimson Bastion's vanguards emerged from behind a collapsed archway, their smiles brimming with confidence.
"Well, look at that." one of them chuckled. "They sent him alone."
The other rolled his neck lazily. "Makes our job easier."
They believed they had intercepted easy prey. Even if Alex was individually stronger, two against one in close quarters should have been decisive.
At least, that was the logic.
Murmurs rippled through the stands as the audience reached the same conclusion.
The arena's formation monitored every registered strike. Once accumulated damage crossed a preset threshold, a contestant would be automatically eliminated. The formation ensured no fatal injuries — only a sharp surge of pain before forced withdrawal.
But reality rarely followed expectation.
Alex didn't respond to their taunts.
He adjusted his footing.
The first vanguard lunged, blade carving downward in a heavy arc meant to drive Alex back. The second circled wide, attempting to compress his movement space.
Alex stepped forward instead of retreating. His sword pierced the first attacker's centerline before the descending blade could fully fall, disrupting his balance. In the same motion, he drove his shoulder forward, forcing the air from the man's lungs.
A flash of light erupted.
The first vanguard froze as the formation registered the damage threshold.
The second barely had time to react. Alex pivoted, closing the gap before the flanking maneuver could complete. A sharp kick to the knee destabilized him. A clean strike to the torso followed.
Another flash.
Eliminated.
For half a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then the stadium exploded in sound.
Alex accelerated forward again, crossing shattered streets and vaulting debris with fluid precision.
With two defenders gone, the path to Crimson Bastion's monolith lay nearly open. As he neared the central plaza, two more figures stepped forward.
One wielded a longsword, stance tight and disciplined. The other carried a massive warhammer resting against his shoulder, armor noticeably heavier than the others.
Unlike the previous pair, these two did not smile.
Alex didn't slow.
The warhammer user moved first, swinging horizontally to intercept. The weapon carved through the air with enough force to shatter bone. At the same instant, the swordsman advanced from behind, blade thrusting toward Alex's exposed flank.
A pincer strike.
Alex ducked beneath the warhammer's arc, the displaced air grazing his hair. Without breaking momentum, he planted his foot and coiled. Like a compressed spring releasing, he twisted upward.
His sword drove into the swordsman's chest before the thrust could fully extend, instantly eliminating him.
The warhammer wielder roared and brought the weapon down in a crushing vertical swing. Alex stepped inside the hammer's effective range. The heavy head smashed into stone behind him, cracking the plaza.
Before the wielder could recover, Alex's blade struck cleanly against the armored chest plate.
Another burst of light.
Silence fell across the plaza.
With all four opponents eliminated, Crimson Bastion's monolith dissolved automatically under the arena's rules.
"Victory — Star Shine Academy."
The stadium erupted once more.
Alex stood alone amid the ruins, dust drifting through fractured sunlight, as the first match of Pool 1 concluded in decisive fashion.