"Allllrighty then!" the announcer drawled, his voice cracking like a whip. He swept an arm wide, bowing with his usual flamboyant flourish. His coat sparkled with mana threads stitched purely for effect, catching the light as though the man were a stage magician rather than an Overseer.
"For the last three trials it is time to bring in the live audience! Normally, we only invite spectators for the final tournament of 1v1 combats, but today…" he leaned forward conspiratorially, "...today we've prepared something far more entertaining. Tickets have been sold, the livestreams are humming, and you best believe every one of you is about to become a broadcast star."
He let that hang, then jabbed a finger toward the rows of students.
"Try your hardest on these next few trials, because who knows? Someone important may be watching: a guild leader scouting fresh talent, or a high-ranking officer looking for cadets worth grooming. Normally, the spotlight doesn't shine on those who wash out in Trial Four… but this year, everyone gets their chance. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Good luck."
The Overseer fell silent. For a moment, only the wind in the coliseum spoke. Then the weight of his words sank in.
The glare and suspicion from the earlier trials were gone, replaced by a rising swell of voices. Whispers rippled through the crowd like electricity through copper. Nervous laughs. Mutters of dread. Bursts of determination.
Elijah caught fragments:
"Does this mean recruiters will actually see us fight?"
"No pressure, right?"
"I don't care if my bones break. I'm going to leave an impression!"
By then, he had drifted toward Tim. His friend's ghostly-pale face from the labyrinth trial was gone, replaced with something brighter. His grin practically split his face.
"You hear that, Elijah?!" Tim jabbed him in the ribs, eyes wide with excitement. "We can make a name for ourselves now. Scouts, officers-hell, maybe even mercenary guilds! I was confident I'd make it to Trial Five, but this? I get to show off early. And it's perfect for you too! No offense, man, but… your chances of hitting the top hundred were kinda slim."
Elijah arched a brow. "Wow. Thanks for the motivational speech. Really makes me feel the love."
Tim barreled on, grinning like an idiot, choosing to ignore Elijah's sarcasm. "But now, even if you don't make it that far, you'll still get to show people what you're capable of. All that training won't go to waste!"
A sigh escaped Elijah before he could stop it, but tension bled out of his shoulders. "You know what? You're right. Let's show them what we've got."
The Overseer raised a hand, snapping the moment short. "Alright, alright. I know you're excited, but you'll need the rules before you start imagining glory."
The coliseum hushed instantly, every eye snapping forward.
"The rules may sound complicated at first," the announcer said, voice dropping into a mock-serious rumble, "but I promise they're simple at their heart."
He let the pause stretch, lips quirking into a smirk. Then:
"Trial Three will consist of three five-versus-five matches. Your score will depend not only on wins and losses, but also on the margin of those victories."
Murmurs rippled again. Elijah exhaled slowly. That doesn't sound so bad. Trial Three's always team-based, at least that part fits. If I'm lucky, I'll get Tim. If not… he suppressed a grimace. Claro.
The Overseer snapped his fingers, conjuring a shimmering projection above the arena.
"Teams will not be random. They'll be assigned with care, based on your pre-exam ranks. The goal is balance, fair fights are entertaining fights."
Some students groaned at that, realizing they wouldn't get to cherry-pick teammates. Others exchanged uneasy looks. Elijah's gut twisted. Balanced matchmaking meant he had just as much chance of being grouped with his rivals as with his allies.
"Second," the announcer continued, "the matches will unfold within a conjured mana arena. An enormous battleground woven from cutting-edge tech and the finest conjurers alive."
He coughed and muttered under his breath: "Alright, mostly ours. Bought a few key systems from the Cybranians."
A few students laughed nervously.
"Though artificial, the arena enforces real combat principles and punishes mistakes. Think of it as both crucible and spectacle: a place to test your skill, and a stage for the audience's delight. Each team begins in their base, where a Mana Core awaits. Your objective? Push across the battlefield, smash through the enemy's defenses, and destroy their core."
Okay, capture-the-flag vibes. Elijah nodded to himself. That makes sense.
"Third," the announcer raised three fingers, "the arena is divided into three lanes: left, right, and center. Each lane is guarded by three Mana Obelisks, crystalline towers that annihilate intruders with beams of focused energy. To reach your enemy's core, you must destroy them in sequence. Inside the enemy base, two more obelisks guard the core itself-your final hurdle."
The holographic map shifted, showing glowing lanes branching from the bases like arteries. Between them stretched a forest.
"And between the lanes lies the Jungle. Neutral beasts prowl its depths, infused with mana storms. Slay them to gain buffs or credits. And beware the jungle's heart—two colossal guardians await. On one side, the Aether Guardian, a construct whose defeat grants your team increased mana regeneration and empowered abilities for three minutes. On the other, the Ancient Dragon (fake, don't worry) whose slaying executes enemies at 10% health in your next battle. They appear twenty minutes into the match and respawn every ten minutes thereafter."
Gasps rang out. A few students swore under their breath.
Tim practically vibrated with excitement. Elijah's mouth dropped a little. He's going to geek out later. I can already feel it.
The announcer pressed on. "Fourth. Combatants earn arena credits for damaging shields, landing finishing blows, destroying obelisks, and slaying beasts. Credits may be spent at the Armory Nexus in your base."
The hologram shifted to show conjured gear: blades rimmed with mana fire, gauntlets brimming with gravitational pull, staffs crowned with amplifiers.
"Equipment doesn't come from outside. It is forged by the arena itself to suit you. An enhancer might buy Graviton Knuckles, making every punch concussive. An emitter might purchase Amplifier Bands to sharpen spell output. To buy equipment, you must recall which teleports you back to base. Interrupted by damage, of course. Manage your recalls wisely: recall too early, and your team fights outnumbered. Stay too long, and death makes the choice for you."
Students frowned. A few whispered urgently. The Overseer waved them down.
"Yes, yes. I'll explain death. Don't worry."
He lifted five fingers dramatically. "Fifth. Death works as it did in the labyrinth. Each of you is wrapped in a mana shield. When it shatters, you are immediately teleported back to base, unable to act further. A death timer prevents instant return. At first, it's seconds. Later, half a minute or more. That means mistakes early can sting, but mistakes late? They can decide the entire match."
Shocked silence followed. Some students swallowed hard. Others clenched fists.
"And then," he added, "there is recalling. Channel it for eight seconds using your chip implant, untouched, and you return to base to heal and buy gear. Think of it as a voluntary death without penalty."
The Overseer clapped his hands. The hologram shifted once more.
"Now for the sixth and almost final mechanic. Each of you will see the map through your chip interface. Allies are visible in real time, but enemies remain hidden unless spotted by you, your thralls, or your allies. To maintain vision, you may also purchase mana lanterns—each fighter may place up to three at a time. Lanterns last three minutes unless destroyed, and enemies will (or at least should) absolutely try to destroy them."
The projection showed glowing lanterns dotting the jungle, bright beacons of vision.
"Finally, Obelisks are not alone. Waves of mechanical thralls march down each lane in steady intervals. They are color coded so you know which ones are yours and which are the enemies. You will be told in advance whether you are the red team or the blue team for each match. They attack enemy thralls and absorb Obelisk fire, allowing you to advance. Strike enemies under their Obelisk, however, and the tower's wrath turns on you. Manage the waves wisely-or be crushed beneath them."
He spread his arms, the hologram collapsing into sparks.
"Those are your core mechanics. A battlefield of lanes, jungles, obelisks, cores, lanterns, and thralls. No gimmicks, no mercy-only strategy, skill, and synergy."
"Now before you ask any questions," the Overseer continued, "I'll explain theoretical team roles to help give you a better idea. Though you all have wildly different abilities, each of you should have some determined combat purpose that fits both your ability and fighting style best:
Frontliners, who soak hits and initiate battles.
Strikers, who deliver devastating bursts of damage.
Supports, who shield allies or disrupt enemies.
Hunters, who stalk the jungle for objectives and ambushes.
Tacticians, who command vision and flow in the central lane.
No role alone can claim victory. The trial is designed to test coordination, adaptability, and the ability to leverage a team's strengths against an enemy's weaknesses."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink into the rows of students.
"Though dressed as a game, the Mana Arena is no child's pastime. It was built as a microcosm of war-lanes as battlefronts, obelisks as fortifications, the jungle as contested supply lines, and the Mana Core as the heart of a kingdom. To succeed, you must understand not only how to fight, but how to think like generals and soldiers both."
His gaze swept over the assembly, sharp and unforgiving. "The trial judges far more than raw power:
Can you read the battlefield?
Can you work with allies, even flawed ones?
Can you balance aggression and patience under pressure?
Can you sacrifice glory for victory?"
He folded his hands behind his back. "Only those who can answer these questions in combat will advance to the final duels. Now… any questions?"
Hands immediately shot into the air. The Overseer arched a brow. "I thought so."
Meanwhile, Elijah leaned toward Tim.
"Hey… isn't this…?" he whispered.
"Yeah. No way," Tim muttered back, eyes wide.
They looked at each other, then shouted in perfect unison: "Circle of Champions!!!"
Tim literally vibrated with excitement, the air shimmering around his hands. "Bro, bro, bro. I can't believe the school straight-up ripped off the game we play almost every weekend."
"I know, right?!" Elijah grinned. "Sure, we've been stuck in Bronze for like two years, but we're basically experts compared to everyone else here. Total unfair advantage."
"Yeah, but that's only 'cause we never grind enough ranked. If we played three games a day? We'd be Diamond tier, easy."
"Diamond? Pfft. Challenger, minimum." Elijah smirked. "Point is, less than a third of these clowns have even heard of this game. We've got this in the bag."
The two fist-bumped, basking in shared delusions of grandeur, while the Overseer turned to the eager sea of hands.
Q&A Lightning Round
Nervous girl with glasses (voice quavering): "Um… if our mana shield breaks, can we still fight back before we're teleported?"
Overseer: "No. The instant your shield fails, you're gone. Whisked back to spawn like a leaf caught in the wind. No last swings, no suicide plays. A soldier with no armor is already a corpse."
Brash boy with wild hair, leaning forward cockily: "What happens if two people kill each other at the same time? Who gets the credit?"
Overseer (dryly): "Whichever strike lands first, down to the fraction of a heartbeat. The system doesn't deal in 'ties.' But yes, double deaths can occur. Rare, but spectacular when they do."
The brash boy smirked as if he already planned to make it happen.
Bookish strategist type, scribbling notes: "Do mana shields weaken over repeated deaths, or are they always full on respawn?"
Overseer: "Always full. Death does not make you frailer… but the timer grows longer with each respawn. Fall too often, and you may find yourself watching battles slip away from behind the glass."
The strategist nodded furiously, muttering about "death economy."
Overly cautious student: "Is there a limit to how many times you can die before you're kicked out completely?"
Overseer: "No limit. Die a hundred times if you like. You'll simply grow more irrelevant with each."
Curious girl: "Do we drop credits when we die, like coins falling out for the enemy to scoop up?"
Overseer (snorting): "This is no children's arcade. No loot showers. Your killer's team receives a flat bounty—direct, efficient, impossible to avoid."
Confident student: "Can we swap items mid-match if we recall?"
Overseer: "Yes. The armory allows both purchase and sale. But don't expect a full refund. War does not give back what you waste."
Excitable boy who clearly wants to break things: "How powerful can conjured equipment get? Could I like, buy a cannon that just… one-shots a tower?"
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Overseer (sternly): "No single weapon can erase an objective. Fortifications are shielded by enchantments meant to withstand far greater assaults. Victory comes only through coordinated pressure, not toys."
The boy pouted.
Reserved girl: "Can the armory forge something that changes our abilities entirely? Like… give me fire magic if I don't already have it?"
Overseer: "No. Equipment refines your style, sharpens your edge-but it will not carve you into a new person. If you lack fire, you will never burn."
Skeptical boy in the back: "Are jungle beasts gonna chase us into lanes? Or do they just sit in their caves?"
Overseer: "Bound to their lairs. Cross into their territory, and they'll strike. Stay out, and they remain shadows in the trees."
Sharp-eyed girl: "If both teams strike the Aether Guardian at once, who gets the buff?"
Overseer: "The final blow decides it. Simple as that. In war, no prize is shared."
Another student: "How long do buffs last?"
Overseer: "Five minutes, typically. Enough to swing a battle, never long enough to carry you the whole war."
Nervous boy (probably support): "Can we heal or repair our own towers?"
Overseer: "No. Once an obelisk is damaged, it remains so. You may defend it, but never rebuild. Such is the nature of attrition."
One joker in the back (grinning): "What if all five of us just live in the jungle and gank all day? Is that legal?"
Students snickered.
Overseer (pinching his nose): "Legal… yes. Wise? No. Empty lanes collapse faster than you can say 'strategy.' Do so if you wish to lose creatively."
Serious, honor-bound type: "Is there a rule against spawn camping? It feels… dishonorable."
Overseer: "Banned outright. Spawn zones are guarded by invincible barriers and death towers that strike faster than thought. Attempt it, and you'll die before your victim does."
Tim (shooting up his hand eagerly, nearly hopping in place): "Okay but like, how much does teamwork matter? If someone's cracked enough, can they just solo-carry?"
Some students groaned.
Overseer (flatly): "You may try, boy. But lone wolves rarely return with prey. The system rewards synergy. Pride wins you nothing but a longer death timer."
Tim deflated, though Elijah patted him on the back.
Clever-smiling girl: "Can we smuggle in outside gear? Hidden blades, talismans, that sort of thing?"
Overseer: "No. The arena permits conjured armory equipment only. Contraband is nullified the instant you step inside."
Another joker: "What if someone tries to break the arena itself? Dig under the walls, fly over towers, teleport into the core?"
Overseer (with a hint of a grin): "Then the arena will break you. Its wards adapt to every exploit. Do not test them."
Final strategist, voice sharp as steel: "What if the match drags on forever? Is there a hard time limit?"
Overseer: "Yes. After one hour, the arena begins to collapse. Walls close in, lanes crumble, and the Mana Core is exposed. At that point, the war ends swiftly, one way or another."
After nearly thirty minutes of relentless questions, the Overseer exhaled and rubbed his temples.
"Phew. Your enthusiasm is… noted. If that is all, then it is time. Teams will be assigned, roles determined, and the first gates will open shortly. Prepare yourselves. The Mana Arena awaits."