The arena thundered with clapping, stomping, and chants from the audience. Shadows from the high wall stretched under the angled sun as Vel slid into the participant benches. Celia and Tomas dropped into their seats beside him.
"I should have let Enya take my place..." Tomas slumped forward, his face a pale shade of green.
Celia sat in silence, her fingers drumming a restless beat against the hilt of her rapier.
"We'll be down there soon enough." Vel said, his gaze fixed on the battlefield below, where the sand shimmered under the protective wards.
"Don't remind me." Tomas muttered.
A horn's call cut through the noise, long and commanding.
War drums followed, steady and thunderous, their rhythm forcing the crowd into silence.
A figure shifted on the podium high along the arena wall, drawing the eyes of nearby students. A hush followed.
"Welcome, welcome!" The voice echoed, not from shouting but from magic woven into the air itself. "To the grand beginning of…"
He paused just a beat, then his arms snapped upward. "…the Ternion Tournament!"
The eruption nearly shook the stone. Cheers, whistles, pounding feet—all crashing together in a storm of sound.
Vel let the noise crash over him. In the brief lull that followed, he whispered.
"Altheris Visona." His finger traced short, quick motions.
The world snapped into focus. His vision shot upward, closing the distance to the high booth built into the wall. He could now clearly see the announcer's podium: a small spyglass on a stand, and beside it, a golden frame holding a star-shaped crystal that carried his calm, rhythmic words.
The announcer leaned toward it.
"I—Janos Verterre—shall be your guide through every clash and triumph!"
From behind, a soft voice reached Vel.
"Master Vel, did you call for me?"
Hileya had appeared, her posture respectful but her tone calm.
"Oh Hileya, you're here. Come sit and watch with us. You'll learn far more here than running errands."
Hileya slowly settled into the seat behind them, her eyes quietly scanning the arena as the noise settled once more.
Janos's voice, brimming with excitement.
"What I expect to see today is nothing less than the future of our kingdom's magical prowess! Raw talent being shaped before our very eyes!"
He gestured theatrically. "Will we see explosive potential? Or perhaps the unexpected strategies of our more… uniquely attuned students?"
"Of course, that's usually when half of them end up flat on their backs in under a minute, but tradition must be honored every three years."
Laughter rippled through the audience, rising and falling in waves before fading back into eager silence.
Some students turned their heads toward Vel's group. Vel tilted his head slightly, as if agreeing with the joke.
With a final flourish, Janos swept his hand toward the air. "And now, let us reveal the fates that await our brave competitors!"
Light magic flared above the battlefield, forming the names in glowing script as they faced one another. "The first match will be… Team Halcroft versus Team Valenne!"
The crowd roared as the competitors stepped into the arena.
"From the eastern entrance!" Janos's voice rang out across the arena.
"Marcus Valenne with the sword! Jana Farlight with daggers! And Merin Deyra casting water!" Janos announced, his arm sweeping toward the eastern entrance as each name echoed across the arena.
"Wait. Isn't that your classmate, Celia?" Tomas leaned forward, pointing.
Familiar faces from Celia's past training days. Now, for the first time, she would watch them fight as competitors from the stands.
"And from the western entrance!" Janos continued, his tone rising with theatrical flair.
"Eldon Traft with the sword! Sylwen Wyvell with the bow! And Renn Halcroft casting fire!" His words carried across the arena, each name greeted with cheers from different sections of the crowd.
The two teams now stood revealed on opposite sides of the arena, the crowd buzzing in anticipation for the match to begin.
"Look at that," Vel murmured. "Everyone's learned to balance their teams. Each side has a sword user."
The student carried twin blades, Jana, each shorter than a standard sword but longer than typical throwing knives. They spun the weapons with ease, the metal catching the light as they moved into position.
Vel leaned a little closer. "You're quiet, Celia. Something on your mind?"
Her gaze never left the arena. "Just thinking… it could've been me down there. Replacing Marcus, maybe Jana."
Beside them, Hileya leaned forward, eyes drawn to the dagger user.
Vel offered her a small smile. "Good chance for you to learn too, Hileya." He tapped the empty seat at his side. "Want to come closer?"
Celia's sharp glance made him rethink the invitation. Sweat prickled at his neck.
Hileya only shook her head. "I can see just fine from here, young master."
Tomas shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the tension hanging between them.
Vel cleared his throat and forced his focus back to the arena.
On the left, their formation looked steady and balanced: a sword user holding the line, a caster guarded in the rear, and a bow ready at mid‑range to cover both.
On the right, Celia's classmates arranged themselves with sharper intent. Their sword user who appeared lighter and more mobile than their opponent; one daggers wielder who kept shifting position unpredictably; and one caster who seemed to be preparing a spell even before the match began.
Multiple horns from every angle of the arena blared in unison, as if the players had been waiting for the cue. One blast seemed to come from high above and directly behind Vel's back.
"BEGIN!"
As the match began, the two sword users exploded into action. They charged straight toward each other, meeting in the center with a clash that sent sand spraying around their feet.
The crowd erupted, the sound shaking the arena walls.
The eastern team's dagger wielder, Jana, immediately broke wide. Her twin blades glinted as she circled for the flank, intent on darting past the swords to reach the back line.
But the western team's bow user, Sylwen, tracked her perfectly. Arrows hissed one after another, forcing Jana into sharp sidesteps and quick rolls. Each shot denied her approach, the relentless pressure stalling her advance.
She flicked one shaft away with her dagger, but every heartbeat spent dodging was ground she couldn't gain.
Behind their respective frontlines, both casters had retreated to safe distances. Merin eased backward, her staff rising as water coiled into shape. Opposite her, Renn extended his arms, fire curling around his hands in gathering light. Neither struck immediately; both built their spells, the tension between them thick enough that even the audience hushed.
Vel leaned forward from the benches, eyes narrowing. The center locked down, the flank denied, the rear bracing. The bow's holding the dagger back. They're buying time for their caster.
Tomas groaned. "Too fast—I can't keep track of them."
Celia said nothing. Her silence taut with the same nerves as the fighters below.
In the center, Eldon and Marcus exchanged a flurry of strikes, parries, and counterattacks. They moved with such focus that they might have been alone in the arena, their blades singing through the air as they tested each other's defenses.
"They're completely in their own world." Celia noted, her eyes following their movements.
Jana suddenly changed her rhythm. Her daggers spun in her grip as she invoked her Art, her feet glowing faintly as her movements grew lighter and faster.
Vel leaned forward. "That's a dagger art."
She glided through Sylwen's arrows, slipping past the shafts with sudden grace, and closed the distance in a heartbeat. Steel flashed, silver arcs crossing for the strike that would end it.
But just as victory seemed certain, Sylwen sprang upward in an acrobatic leap that left Jana lunging at empty air. Unable to halt her momentum, Jana stumbled forward.
While still airborne, Sylwen's bow was already drawn.
Two arrows flew in rapid succession, loosed midair. Jana caught the first on her dagger's edge—but the second buried itself in her leg, the charm on her belt flaring to simulate the wound.
Sylwen landed light a step away as Jana staggered.
From above, Janos's voice thundered with delight.
"EXQUISITE!"
"Did you SEE that, ladies and gentlemen? The infamous 'Twin Strike' bow art performed flawlessly by Sylwen Wyvell! Such precision while airborne! Such TIMING! This young lady clearly has been practicing her craft!"
The crowd roared, half in shock, half in wild approval.
Janos's voice surged again, carrying over the cheers. "And poor Jana Farlight! Caught by surprise despite her impressive 'Feather Step' technique! What a SPECTACULAR exchange of abilities we're witnessing!"
Jana winced as the charm's glow faded, the illusion of a deep wound flickering across her leg. She forced herself upright into a defensive stance, daggers still in hand, expecting Sylwen to press her advantage.
Behind him, Hileya leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowed in concentration.
"She overcommitted," Celia whispered, almost to herself. "Left herself no way to change direction once the archer moved."
Vel was about to respond when Janos's voice boomed across the arena.
"What an extraordinary sight! Both casters have completed their preparations simultaneously!"
Vel's attention snapped back to the arena.
Merin, the water mage, now stood with arms extended, dozens of ice shards hovering in the air before her, each one glinting menacingly in the sunlight. Across the field, Renn had conjured multiple fireballs that spun in a perfect circle around him, gathering momentum for their eventual release.
Both casters seemed to have the same target in mind—the opposing sword users who were still locked in combat at the center of the arena.
The spells launched simultaneously. Fireballs streaked across the arena toward Marcus, while ice shards shot toward Eldon's position.
As if sensing the imminent danger, Eldon and Marcus broke apart with impeccable agility.
The audience leaned forward with fascination, Vel included, seeing how the two swordsmen came up with their own approaches.
Marcus planted his feet and drove his blade into the sand. The earth trembled as stone and packed soil rose up around him, shaping into a solid wall that curved into a defensive shell.
The wall shuddered as the fireballs exploded against it, ripples spreading across the stone with each impact. The barrier held, though its surface cracked under the strain.
Eldon took a different approach. As the ice shards approached, his glowing blade became a blur of motion. With incredible speed, he deflected each projectile, sending them harmlessly into the sand.
"MAGNIFICENT!" Janos shouted, practically bouncing with excitement. "Two completely different defensive techniques, both executed to perfection! The discipline of Gaia Barrier from Marcus Valenne, and the legendary Tempest Counter from Eldon Traft!"
While the sword users recovered from their defensive displays, Jana seized the opportunity.
Despite her simulated injury, the dagger wielder sprinted across the sand, sand spraying with each step as she charged straight for Renn in the back line, the fire caster.
Vel nodded slightly, a hint of approval in his eyes. "Very good timing sense. She's making use of the chaos."
Sylwen, the bow user, seemed momentarily caught off guard by Jana's sudden change in targets. She fumbled with her quiver, notching an arrow a beat too late.
The arrow cut through the air, chasing Jana's path. But just as it seemed about to strike, Jana performed a maneuver that drew gasps from the crowd.
With both daggers crossed, her body twisting in a way that seemed to defy physics.
"That's her signature move. Viper's Guidance." Celia exclaimed.
Indeed, Jana had somehow managed to caught the shaft not to cut it, but to spin it off-course. The projectile now soared directly toward Renn—her intended target and Sylwen's own teammate.
Renn's eyes widened in horror as he saw his ally's arrow heading straight for him. He dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the friendly fire. Sand sprayed up around him as he tumbled.
From above, Janos roared with approval. "Brilliant tactics! She's using their own weapons against them!"
But Renn's troubles were far from over. His evasive maneuver had barely finished when Jana descended upon him, twin blades flashing in the sunlight. The fire caster's face contorted with panic as he scrambled backward, hands frantically trying to conjure a defensive spell.
"Someone! Help!" Renn shouted, his voice carrying across the arena.
Eldon immediately abandoned his defensive position, sprinting toward his endangered teammate. Without missing a beat, Marcus gave chase, trying to cut him off before he could reach Renn.
"They're breaking formation," Tomas observed, his voice tense with excitement. "Look at Merin!"
Vel's eyes darted to Merin. With opponents now focused on saving their caster from Jana's assault, Merin had free rein to cast without interruption.
Her hands moved in complex patterns as water began to swirl around her.
"That's exactly how you exploit a defensive formation," Vel said, unable to hide the admiration in his voice. "Force them to protect their weakest link, then strike when they're disorganized."
Sylwen, the bow user, recognized her team's desperate situation. With both her teammates in danger, she abandoned her previous strategy. Instead of firing quick rescue shots, she drew her bow all the way back, gracefully kneeling to one side as if bracing for the recoil, her arms trembling with the tension.
The bow began to emit a soft humming sound as magical energy coalesced around the arrowhead. Sylwen's eyes narrowed, focused entirely on Merin, who remained unharassed on the far side of the arena.
Merin completed her incantation. The massive wave she'd been forming solidified into dozens of ice spears, hovering menacingly in the air. Her arms thrust forward, sending the deadly barrage flying toward Renn, who was still retreating from Jana's relentless assault.
The charged arrow split the air with a sound like tearing fabric. Sand erupted in its wake as it streaked toward Merin. She was too focused on her own spell and noticed the incoming projectile a moment too late.
The arrow struck true, hitting Merin squarely in the chest. She stumbled backward, shock written across her face.
But her ice spears had already been released. They flew unerringly toward Renn as he backpedaled from Jana. The fire caster raised his hands in a futile gesture before the magical ice slammed into him, sending him sprawling into the sand.
Both casters collapsed almost simultaneously, their protective charms shattering with audible cracks. Glowing fragments scattered into the air like broken glass catching sunlight.
Vel watched as barriers of shimmering light immediately materialized around both fallen students, cast by officials stationed along the arena's perimeter. The shields isolated them from further combat, signaling their elimination.
"INCREDIBLE!" Janos's voice boomed across the arena. "Both casters eliminated in the SAME MOMENT! What timing! What drama! This match has been reduced to a test of pure martial skill, ladies and gentlemen!"
With both casters eliminated, the match shifted dramatically. Eldon stood at a critical disadvantage, having failed to save his teammate and now finding himself outnumbered. He faced both Marcus's sword and Jana's daggers while Sylwen maintained her distance with her bow.
"They're isolating the remaining sword user," Vel observed, leaning forward. "Classic pincer movement."
Marcus and Jana circled Eldon like predators, coordinating their movements with practiced accuracy. They attacked from opposite sides, forcing Eldon to constantly pivot between threats.
"He can't maintain defense against both," Tomas whispered.
Eldon's hesitation vanished, replaced by a hardened resolve in his gaze. He dug his boots into the sand, widening his stance, and raised his sword until it stood vertical before him. A vortex of wind immediately coiled around him, kicking up a spiral of dust.
To the audience, Eldon seemed to stand perfectly still—but every attack that neared him, whether dagger or sword, met an invisible blade that appeared and parried at the exact moment of impact. The clang of metal rang out again and again as Jana and Marcus tried in vain to land their strikes.
"A defensive sword art!" Celia exclaimed, her eyes widening. "I've heard of this technique but never seen it performed."
"Fascinating tradeoff," Janos commented, his voice carrying over the din. "Sacrificing mobility for near-impenetrable defense. But this stance takes a toll—the user cannot hold it forever."
Just as on cue, the stream of air around Eldon began to slow, his face straining with effort.
"Gaia Slam!"
Marcus slammed his sword downward. The ground split and surged, a wave of jagged rock jutting up toward Eldon. The final strike knocked him upward, breaking his balance. He crashed back down onto one of the stone spikes left behind by the attack.
Eldon's protective charm broke with a loud crack, glowing fragments dispersing into the air. A protective spell instantly materialized, shielding him from further harm.
At that same moment, Sylwen knelt down and drew her bow with extraordinary focus. Her stance shifted subtly as she nocked three arrows simultaneously.
"That's—" Vel began, but fell silent as Sylwen released.
The arrows flew in different trajectories—one straight toward Marcus, while the other two arced widely to either side. Marcus deflected the center arrow with a casual swing of his sword, smirking at what appeared to be a desperate final attempt.
Jana, seeing an opportunity to finish the match, pivoted sharply and dashed toward the now-exposed Sylwen.
"Jana, watch out!" Marcus shouted, suddenly realizing the trap.
But his warning came too late. The two arcing arrows had completed their circular flight path, curving back toward Sylwen.
On their return, Jana was now directly in their path. Both struck her squarely in the back as she charged. She collapsed face-first into the sand, just paces away from Sylwen.
"ASTONISHING!" Janos bellowed. "A perfectly executed Circling Volley! Jana Farlight is ELIMINATED! This match has come down to a one-on-one duel between Marcus Valenne and Sylwen Wyvell!"
Vel leaned forward, enthralled by the duel unfolding before him. With both teams reduced to a single combatant, the match had become a true test of skill—steel against precision, endurance against grace.
Marcus wasted no time, sprinting toward Sylwen with his blade held low. The strategy was clear: close the gap and crush the archer's range advantage.
"He's not giving her any breathing room," Vel observed, analyzing Marcus's advance.
Sylwen, however, proved far from cornered. As Marcus closed in, she executed a flawless backflip, creating distance while simultaneously nocking an arrow. The instant her feet hit the sand, she released—forcing Marcus to deflect the shot with his blade.
"What reflexes!" Janos roared over the crowd. "Miss Wyvell turns retreat into opportunity! Most archers would falter up close, but she's weaving precision and motion into one seamless dance!"
Marcus pressed forward again, only for Sylwen to cartwheel sideways, her bow steady even mid-spin. Another arrow flew, forcing Marcus to break his charge to parry.
"Look at her footwork," Celia whispered, awe in her tone. "She's channeling technique to lighten her body."
Vel noticed the faint glow beneath Sylwen's feet—like Jana's before her, but sharper, more refined. The enchantment on her soles seemed to make each jump higher than any normal person could, giving her movements an almost weightless grace.
"Relentless pursuit from Mister Valenne! Unyielding precision from Miss Wyvell!" Janos's voice thundered. "This is no longer offense and defense—it's endurance and control in perfect balance!"
Seeing Sylwen in midair, Marcus reacted instantly. "Gaia Slam!" he roared, driving his blade into the ground. The arena trembled as jagged stone burst upward, forming a field of spires where Sylwen was set to land.
Almost desperately, Sylwen angled her bow downward, using it like a spring to soften her fall. The weapon struck a rising shard with a deep thud, bouncing her just enough to clear the hazard. The strain, however, made the limbs of her bow groan under pressure.
Marcus seized the opening, circling fast. His swing came low then rose, intended to drive Sylwen back into the jagged terrain he'd created—leaving her no room to retreat. Instead, Sylwen did the unthinkable: she raised her bow to intercept the swing.
"What?!" Marcus's disbelief was clear even from the stands.
Steel met wood with a thunderous clang. The bow, already strained from impact, snapped in two. Splinters scattered like sparks across the sand.
In that instant of confusion, Sylwen twisted low, her leg sweeping across the ground. Marcus's balance vanished—his body lifted, weightless for a heartbeat, before he crashed to the arena floor.
"She's turned his strength against him!" Janos shouted, his voice rising over the roar of the crowd. "But sacrificing her weapon—how is she going to finish this match?!"
Sylwen no longer had her weapon, yet she refused to yield. She flipped backward high into the air, every muscle straining, her movements measured and deliberate.
Then came the moment that silenced the crowd.
A luminous bow shimmered into existence as she drew her hands back, energy gathering in a radiant string of light.
"Gale-forged Strike."
The weapon and its arrows were pure conjuration. Vel recognized the technique in a gasp. He had almost forgotten this kind of Martial Art was possible in Aeonalus—the blend between magic and archery, popular among the Elven race, especially veteran rangers.
Twin bolts of magic blazed across the arena, striking Marcus squarely in the chest as he still knelt from his earlier fall. The force knocked him back down—his body trembling under the illusion of the wound and the backlash of his shattered protective charm.
A luminous dome flared into existence at that instant. The jagged stone formations crumbled as the duel's magic subsided.
"A DECISIVE FINISH!" Janos thundered. "Team Wyvell triumphs through ADAPTABILITY and FINESSE! What a STUNNING conclusion to this extraordinary bout!"
The arena erupted. Cheers, applause, and cries of disbelief thundered through the stands. Vel found himself standing, clapping without realizing it, caught in the swell of energy.
Sylwen stood alone at the center of the arena, chest heaving with exhaustion, sweat darkened her uniform, sand layered her hair. The sudden wave of applause made her flinch.
Vel noticed a faint shade of red across her face even from a distance—perhaps exhaustion. After a brief pause, she turned and walked toward the exit, her steps slow at first, then quickened, as if the weight of the crowd's attention urging her to escape the arena.
"Wow," Tomas breathed, the word barely audible beneath the ovation. "I never thought a bow user could do that."
The archer had completely upended Vel's expectations. What should have been a weakness in close quarters had instead become her greatest strength.
Celia nodded beside him, eyes wide. "Speaking of underestimating—maybe it's us who misjudged the other students."
Vel felt a pang of humility. The display he'd just witnessed had been nothing short of masterful.
"Sylwen," he murmured, watching the officials help other students. "I won't forget that name anytime soon."
"What a MAGNIFICENT opening to the tournament!" Janos's voice boomed anew. "Sylwen Wyvell proves that appearances can be DECEIVING! An archer besting a swordsman in close combat—who could have imagined it? THIS, my friends, is why we hold the Ternion Tournament—to witness the UNEXPECTED!"
The crowd's energy remained electric, conversations buzzing throughout the stands as attendants reset the arena floor. Vel could hear snippets of excited discussion all around him—students debating techniques, questioning previous assumptions about combat roles.
"We'll now take a brief intermission before the next thrilling match!" Janos declared. "When we return—brace yourselves for another spectacle of talent and tenacity!"
Vel turned to Celia and Tomas, his expression serious. "That'll be us after the next one. We'd better get ready."
The three stood up nervously, each processing what they'd just witnessed. Celia whispered what all three were thinking.
"How many others are hiding their true strength?"
Tomas exhaled slowly. "If an archer can fight like that…"
They walked toward the preparation room.
"We need to be ready for anything," he said quietly.
Vel took a deep breath, centering himself as he considered what lay ahead. The tournament suddenly felt more unpredictable than he'd anticipated.
He'd been so focused on the known threats—Severin, Kein, the other elite students—that he'd overlooked the possibility of hidden talents among the regular ranks.
How many others were like Sylwen Wyvell—Students with unremarkable reputations but exceptional abilities when pushed to their limits?
The thought was both unsettling and exhilarating.