The murmur of the crowd quieted as a booming voice echoed across the arena.
"Respected judges, family members of all the participants, participants themselves, and all who have gathered here to witness the Arcadia Young Elite Competition... I welcome you all to this grand event, which will showcase the chivalry and brilliance of the younger generation, the very torchbearers of our future…"
Cheers erupted.
"Today, thirty-two of the brightest young mages shall clash for glory, honor…"
"And a chance to win this year's grand prizes!"
A rectangular pillar rose from the ground, stopping at four feet tall, as waves of energy rippled around it. A space ring floated above the center of the pillar's surface, slowly rotating.
"The winner shall receive a space ring, not just any, but one capable of holding an entire chamber's worth of items!"
Gasps swept through the spectators. A space ring was a rare and highly coveted artifact. Wealth alone couldn't guarantee its acquisition. And even if one managed to obtain one, the offered space was usually minimal. But this one? A whole room's worth of space, enough to store a small fortune.
Even the participants were intrigued.
Only one remained neutral.... Prince Rowan. Though the ring was extraordinary, it was nothing special to him.
"And that is not the only prize."
A shimmering defensive bracelet appeared beside the ring, its runes glowing faintly.
"A rare defensive bracelet, capable of repelling spells up to Tier 4! A lifesaver, and a treasure."
"Whoa!" someone in the stands shouted. "That alone is worth a fortune!"
"Forget fortune," a noble girl whispered. "With that, no one below Tier 5 will even be able to bend a strand of your hair."
"I'm betting on Rovan Yale already," a man said, holding up a ticket. "Easy money."
"Pfft! Zephyr's the real threat," another countered. "He's faster, sharper, and he doesn't show off like Rovan."
The announcer continued:
"Now, we shall begin the lottery draw. Each participant will receive a token, numbered 1 to 32.
Matches are as follows: Stage One includes tokens 1 to 16. Stage Two, tokens 17 to 32.
Match-ups will be: 1 vs 16, 2 vs 15, 3 vs 14… up to 8 vs 9. Stage Two will follow the same format.
After the first round, winners will face each other in reverse order... the winner of 1 vs 16 will face the winner of 8 vs 9, and so on."
The explanation was clear. Magical diagrams formed in a panel hovering mid-air, showing the tournament brackets.
"There will be five total rounds. The fifth round will be the final match, the match to bring out the true powerhouse of the younger generation.
The Lottery Begins.
Participants, please step forward one at a time to draw your tokens when your name is displayed on the panel."
A pedestal shimmered in the center. A golden orb floated above it, glowing softly.
Then, one by one, participant names started to appear on the panel screen.
The first to approach was Rovan Yale. He strode forward with his usual smirk while his fans roared in cheers for him.
He pulled a token from the orb.
Ding! Token 2.
"Looks like I'll be starting early," he said lazily, pocketing the token.
On the panel, Rovan's name popped into the bracket.
Stage One, Match 2.
"Rovan gets 2. That means he'll face whoever gets 15!"
"Poor soul," someone muttered.
Next came Zephyr Albrecht...
He reached the pedestal silently. His eyes barely flicked toward the glowing orb. He drew a token, expression unreadable.
Ding! Token 23.
Stage Two, Match 7.
A ripple of murmurs ran through the gallery.
"Late round. Dangerous territory for whoever faced him."
A few more participants drew their tokens.
Lilith Starwind followed, her braid swaying as she walked. She barely glanced at the orb.
Ding! Token 17.
Stage Two, Match 1.
"Stage Two. First match!" someone exclaimed.
"She's gonna open the round?!"
"Superv! That's how a competition should start."
Next came Morgan Benedict, expression calm, his blade heavy across his back.
Ding! Token 30.
Stage Two, Match 3.
"Ah. Third match in Stage Two," a noble murmured. "That means he won't face Lilith or Zephyr until the quarterfinals."
Darius Smith walked next, eyes calm but tense.
Ding! Token 18.
Stage Two, Match 2.
"Whoa! If he wins, he'll face Zephyr in Round 2!"
"This is going to be fun," the spectators murmured.
Behind Darius, unnoticed by most, a black-cloaked figure approached the pedestal next.
Logan Smith!
No cheers. Barely any glances.
He pulled a token from the orb.
Ding! Token 6.
Stage One, Match 6.
Some nobles looked up, uninterested.
"Who's that kid again?"
"No idea. Probably some cannon fodder from the Smith family."
Kael, however, smiled.
Darius breathed a sigh of relief as well. "We won't face each other until the finals. Even if I can't beat Logan, runner-up isn't bad," Darius thought to himself.
A few more draws were called out.
A confident girl in green attire: Token 15.
"Wait, so, she's going to face Rovan Yale?"
"Damn. That's going to be brutal."
Then Prince Rowan's name appeared on the panel.
As Prince Rowan approached, even the announcer paused. The air shifted. Some nobles leaned forward in their seats instinctively.
Ding! Token 8.
A hush, then whispers.
"He'll face whoever draws Token 9. That's dangerously close to Rovan's bracket."
Rovan glanced at the prince. Just once.
Everyone was thrilled. "Except for Prince Rowan and Rovan Yale, all other big names had ended up in Stage Two. So, most likely, these two would clash in the semi-finals."
Excitement rippled through the arena.
The lottery went on.
A bulky fire mage from the Northern Empire: Token 9.
"Damn! So he's the unlucky one who will face Prince Rowan."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd once more.
A quiet boy with strange violet eyes: Token 25.
"He's from the Forgotten Blade Clan. Interesting…"
A lean twin-blade mage: Token 5.
While participants continued drawing their tokens, the crowd buzzed with speculation, excitement, and bets.
Soon, all thirty-two tokens were claimed.
The full bracket floated above the stadium.
"The opening match," the announcer declared, "will take place on Stage Two!"
"Lilith Starwind vs. Hendrick Ferros of House Ferros! Please head to the stage!"
The crowd leaned forward.
Hendrick was tall, with flame-orange hair and prideful eyes. He twirled his sword, fire crackling along the blade, lightning dancing in his other hand.
Both participants stepped onto the stage, approaching from opposite ends. They stopped in front of the referee, keeping a 15-meter distance.
The platform lit up. The crowd buzzed with excitement.
"I've heard a lot about you, kid," Hendrick called out, grinning. "Let's see what you've got."
Lilith yawned. "I expected at least a challenge. But you seem nothing special. Can you even fight, or are you here just for a sightseeing tour?"
"Ooooooooh!!" the crowd roared.
"Cocky little brat!" Hendrick's left eye twitched, but there was a flicker of caution beneath his bravado. "She's only twelve! But her mouth sure is sharp!"
High above, her mother stood on the balcony, hands glowing faintly with healing magic, just in case.
But not for Lilith, though.
"First Match...
READY!
THREE… TWO… ONE… BEGIN!"
Hendrick didn't hesitate.
With a roar, he charged, his blade blazing with fire. Sparks flew as he raced forward.
"Come on, brat! Let's see if your spells are as sharp as your mouth."
Lilith didn't move.
She stood, arms folded.
Her braid fluttered in the wind.
"How noisy," Lilith murmured, her tone cold enough to silence the wind itself.
TO BE CONTINUED…