Multiple trumpets blared in perfect unison, pulling Vel's attention toward the elevated platform. Birds scattered from the arena's upper reaches, wings flashing against stone as they fled the sudden noise.
Students turned toward the sound. The instruments twisted and gleamed as performers moved in rhythm, their formations shifting like pieces on a game board. Tomas clutched his wand, eyes tracking the floating banners that displayed the three factions' emblems above the crowd.
The fanfare cut off as sharply as it had begun.
Silence stretched for several heartbeats. Even the displaced birds had gone quiet.
Then drums rolled from the two lines of performers flanking the central podium. Not sharp military beats, but something deeper. The Academy ceremony march echoed off arena walls.
The music built toward something that demanded attention, then stopped.
A puff of colorful smoke erupted at the podium's center. When it cleared, Archmagister Elyssia emerged from the dissipating cloud.
The performers lowered their instruments. The floating banners settled into perfect alignment.
No one spoke. Elyssia let the quiet stretch until it became something you could feel in your chest.
Then she opened her mouth to address them.
"Welcome, students of Lona Academy."
Her voice carried effortlessly across the crowd without any apparent amplification magic.
"Today marks the beginning of the Ternion Tournament, a tradition as old as these stones beneath our feet."
As she finished, instructors and officials moved into formation behind her, arranging themselves in a formal line near the arena gateway. Lyvenna was among them, her usual warmth replaced by professional distance—the same detached expression worn by the others.
"You stand not merely as students, but as representatives of the Academy's finest traditions. The Ternion Tournament exists not to crown champions, but to forge them through adversity."
The weight of those words settled over the assembly. Vel understood them differently than anyone else present—this generation would face real threats sooner than they knew.
"It matters not which faction you serve or which affinity you command. What matters is how you adapt, how you innovate, and how you overcome."
Adaptation. Innovation. The exact principles Vel had been teaching his unstable classmates.
"This year marks a departure from tradition." Elyssia's voice gained new intensity. "Typically, the Ternion Tournament is held for second or third-year students, allowing them time to develop their abilities before facing such challenges."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"However, this year is special. I believe the exceptional potential demonstrated by this first-year class warrants an earlier test of your abilities."
"The sooner we understand your true capabilities, the sooner we can guide you toward the training and purpose that will serve both you and our realm. Why wait when talent stands before us ready to be shaped?"
"Now, I invite the representatives of our three factions to share a few words before we begin."
The ceremony shifted into recruitment mode. Three figures approached the podium, but their speeches faded into background noise as Vel spotted Celia weaving through the crowd toward them. She looked flustered, her usually neat uniform slightly wrinkled.
"Celia, you're here. What happened?"
"Sorry I overslept." She squeezed in beside him and Tomas, slightly out of breath.
"You? That's a first."
Tomas's eyes widened as he spoke without turning toward Vel. "V-Vel! Look at the audience—there are important people from outside the academy."
His voice pitched higher. "What if my father sees me? What if my whole family is watching? What if I mess up? What if—"
His breath came in short bursts. "I can't breathe."
He clutched his chest, then slowly turned to face Vel. "How are you so calm?"
Vel glanced at him. "I'm not. I'm just better at hiding it."
That was honest, at least. They were all anxious in their own ways. Tomas wore it openly, Celia had arrived late, and him? His mind raced through scenarios—what approach to take, who they'd face, whether he was actually prepared. And beneath it all, the question that wouldn't leave him alone: had his message reached Landre?
His gaze lifted to the massive statue of Shizka overlooking the arena—arms outstretched in blessing.
A sharp sound pulled his attention back. Elyssia had snapped her fingers. The three banners that had been floating motionless suddenly came alive, flying toward each other in elaborate spirals. They swirled and spun in an intricate dance, weaving between one another in patterns that shouldn't have been possible, before finally settling back into perfect alignment in mid-air.
The theatrics weren't just for show—they pulled every eye in the crowd toward the podium for what came next.
"Now, regarding the tournament rules. There will be no limit to spells and techniques used, as long as the protective charms remain active and the match is not concluded. However, instructors will have final authority to intervene and stop any match they deem necessary."
She held up a small medallion inscribed with complex sigils.
"Each team member must wear these at all times. Removing them during combat by any means will signal your elimination."
"These aren't your standard training charms. They've been enhanced to create a more... realistic experience." Her expression remained neutral, but something in her tone suggested she expected a reaction. "When struck, you'll not only feel the impact but briefly experience an illusion of the actual wound."
Fresh murmurs swept through the crowd.
"A sword strike might momentarily appear to penetrate or cut, complete with the sensation of pain. The illusion dissipates instantly, and no actual harm occurs. It's designed to train your mental fortitude alongside your physical skills."
The crowd erupted. Some students looked genuinely terrified, while others leaned forward with interest, already discussing strategies with their teammates.
"This is going to be fun," a student nearby said, his eyes fixed on the cloud emblem stitched onto Tomas's uniform.
Tomas's anxiety became impossible to hide. His hands trembled slightly as he clutched his wand tighter.
"I'm going to be stabbed, burned, shocked—" His voice cracked. "This is a mistake."
Vel placed a hand on his shoulder. "Better to experience it here than in a real fight where it matters. At least we'll know what to expect when the stakes are actual."
A girl emerged from the crowd—Merin, from Celia's class.
"Celia... good luck. And I'm sorry for what happened earlier."
Behind her stood Jana, arms crossed.
"There's nothing to be sorry about," Jana said, her voice flat. "It was her decision. She's no longer our responsibility."
She pulled Merin away. Merin's guilty eyes lingered on Celia for a heartbeat before she turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Vel tilted his head toward Celia. "What was that about?"
Celia stayed silent for a moment. Even Tomas looked curious now, his panic momentarily forgotten.
"You didn't oversleep, did you?"
"Caldwen has 'disowned' me." She said it so matter-of-factly, as if commenting on the weather.
"Disowned?"
"I'm no longer his responsibility. If anything happens in the tournament, it's on Lyvenna now."
"And the board agreed to this?" Vel knew the answer before he finished asking.
"They didn't object." Celia's fingers tightened around her rapier's grip. "Lyvenna took me on anyway."
Lyvenna was taking on a burden she shouldn't have to carry. It was too big a gamble for her career—and it looked like she'd bet on the losing side.
"Why didn't you—"
"It's... not important." Her voice betrayed the words. "As long as we can win this. Right?"
The fragility in her tone caught him off guard—more pleading than asking, as if she needed him to confirm it.
Without hesitation, Vel placed his hand over hers where she gripped her rapier's hilt.
"They're about to announce the match arrangements." Tomas's voice cut through their moment.
Elyssia's voice rang out across the arena. "Now for today's main event."
Light magic flared above the crowd. Names and numbers materialized in mid-air, arranging themselves into brackets through projection magic. Team names scrolled past as the tournament structure took shape.
Tomas's hands shot to his hair. "We're fighting... Today?!"
Vel studied the brackets floating above, pointing as he spoke. "At least some elites are fighting among themselves before they get to us." He paused. "If we manage to get that far."
But then he noticed something else on his side of the bracket.
Before he could say anything, a voice confirmed it—as if on cue, growing louder with each step.
"It's a shame, really. I was hoping to finish what the instructors interrupted."
Thornwood's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Let's see if your luck holds when no one's there to step in for you."
Of course it was Thornwood. The noble probably couldn't sleep at night thinking about proper revenge after that duel.
"Your little tricks won't work against real opponents. They'll teach you what actual combat looks like." He looked at them with undisguised contempt. "Try not to embarrass the Academy before I get the chance to face you again."
His gaze locked onto Tomas with unexpected intensity before he turned and walked away.
Tomas's face went pale. His hand gripped his wand tightly. "Why did that sound more like a warning than an insult?"
"What problem does he even have with you, Tomas?" Vel asked. "Did you insult his haircut or something?"
"I—I don't know." Tomas's voice came out unsteady. "I've never even talked to him before. Why would he—" He shook his head, still staring at where Thornwood had disappeared into the crowd.
Archmagister Elyssia raised her hands for a final announcement.
"The first matches will commence in one hour. Participants, please proceed to the preparation chambers. The rest of you may take your seats in the spectator area."
The crowd began moving, officials directing streams of students toward different entrances. Excitement mixed with nervous tension as voices rose and fell around them.
The three remained in place. Vel's gaze found Lyvenna among the instructors. She gave them the slightest nod.
"Well?" Vel turned to Celia.
She nodded back.
Then to Tomas. He gulped, but managed a nod.
The three began their march toward the entrance.