The clamor in the arena had started to shift. The cheers were growing more rhythmic now, less scattered, more grounded in expectation. The tournament was in full motion, names cycling faster, energy mounting with each call.
Student after student entered the ring—some nervously, some with steel in their eyes. A few duels ended swiftly, cleanly. Others dragged out with the kind of clawing desperation that left the field cracked and the crowd breathless.
One student collapsed mid-cast from mana fatigue. Another managed to secure a win with a last-minute counter, barely breathing as the referee called their name. There were upsets and expected victories, but beneath it all was a steady hum—the sensation that something was shifting.
A tension beneath the surface.
Darius leaned forward slightly on the bench, eyes narrowing as the next match concluded. A shimmering barrier reset the field below, casting a cool glow across the stone.
He didn't speak. He didn't have to.
