The crowd didn't scream all at once.
It was a slow crescendo.
A tidal wave of recognition rolling through the arena.
"Jacob Lacura."
The camera snapped to him.
Sky blue hair, ruffled to the side. Eyes a calm, muted gold.
He had his hands in his pockets. Not a bead of sweat.
Pristine.
He didn't even look at the field.
Just at the camera.
And smiled softly.
The crowd loved that.
Ayling chuckled.
"Charmed, aren't we?"
Then came the countdown.
3...2... 1-
The gauntlet didn't shift.
It cleared like it didn't dare to obstruct him.
He walked into the field.
Calm.
Cold.
Phase one triggered; two golems rose from both sides.
He didn't stop walking.
A pulse of energy, sharp, condensed.
Raw Ki, unfiltered.
Both golems exploded into dust, a crater rippling out in all directions.
"Is that even allowed?" Ayling voiced with slight surprise and announcing charisma.
Phase Two: Spatial warp traps.
Jacob disappeared.
BLINK!
Reappearing halfway across.
It was too easy.
The final phase.
A three-pronged magic barrage.
He stared, before he raised his hand.
Spells shattered before reaching him.
...It was as if the very mana bent to his will.
"Time?" someone in the control box asked.
"....17 seconds." came the hushed reply.
"..."
Ayling's voice wavered as he got the reply.
"Well then...Ladies and gentlemen...Jacob Lacura."
Time: 17 seconds.
A hush fell over the arena.
It didn't feel real.
Was it real?
For a moment, no one moved. Then -
"YEAH JACOB!"
"THE FUTURE!"
"THAT'S OUR ACE!"
The common folk erupted.
It wasn't just them.
"JACOB!"
The nobles watching live or at home, flushed with excitement.
This was Eldris' future.
A monster.
Gloved hands clapped. Banners waved.
Some students screamed like they'd won a war.
The faculty area was no exception.
Glances traded.
Smiles received.
Watching from above.
In the royal box; the pair of royals watched.
One with a glowing expression. The other, a low scowl.
'What's so good about him...' Samuel thought, arms crossed.
His sister on the other-hand, was thinking other thoughts.
"He wasn't even trying", Torin muttered from the chill room.
Naeva Solene narrowed her eyes, "He didn't even touch them. They just stopped moving..."
"Guess I can count on him in the future," Fayl spoke, chuckling.
Seris watched a, ghost smile on her face.
------
They all watched the screen.
The only two who weren't, were Veyna and Kalen.
Veyna. The one in question, was too busy watching Kalen.
Kalen?
His body didn't move at all.
Jaw flexed.
Hands balled so tightly his knuckles paled.
He stared at the time, like he could change it if he stared long enough.
He was brewing, slowly, but surely.
------
Back in the bar in sector 5:
"No way...I thought Kalen had it!"
"hehehe. You owe me.", his friend chuckled
"We said in the match-ups. Don't get too excited knucklehead."
"Look at how easy it was for the Star. Kalen can't match that."
His friend grumbled.
The camera panned back to Jacob.
He walked off the platform, not with wave or a raised fist.
Just clean. Effortless. Confidence.
Strolling away.
The roar of the arena still echoed, as people chanted his name. Some even hysterically.
Meanwhile in the faculty area, the air was cooler. Quieter now.
Korreth stared at the time.
"17 seconds." he muttered.
Mireya stood next him, not looking away from her notes:
"Kalen's at 30. Lyria not far behind. The others, more spread out."
Maerth Olin sipped from a steaming flask, eyes half-lidded.
"Gauntlet was never the true test. It's tomorrow that matters."
Jael Cendric, ever the analyst, flicked a finger, pulling the bracket.
"We'll be placing the top 8 in a bracket for one-one matchups. The best of the best. All for a chance to represent the first years."
"No surprise it's just the Elite", Tasha Renee voiced.
"Mmm.", Jael added. "With the second and third years strongest already been decided....this showcase is for the future."
Outside, the students cheered.
Some happy with their performances.
All of them getting a coverage, in-front of millions. Billions potentially.
But tomorrow would be the day to separate the future from the footnotes.
------
Jacob Lacura.
Kalen Voss.
Lyria Skorne.
Caelun Redd.
Selle Varn.
Naeva Solene.
Fayl Kera.
Izan Thorne
8 names. 3 spots.
It was going to be lively.
"Let's hope they're ready".
--------
The following morning.
The roar of voices was different.
Louder. Frenzied. Anticipating.
The Gauntlet stirred whispers. Today sparked fire.
The crowd was denser.
More nobles arrived in droves, some dressed in tailored formal-wear, others with subtle family crests.
Rows of dignitaries, planetary observers and academy sponsors filled the upper terraces.
The first year students who participated yesterday? Today were fans. Seated with the people in the stands.
The news had aired Jacob's time on repeat all night.
Advisers and analysts questioning his limits and if he could reach 'their' level.
The main course was about to be tabled.
-----
Floating screens hovered above the coliseum, casting brackets midair in flickering silver light.
"Elite Class - Top Eight Bracket."
Names shimmered.
Match 1: Jacob Lacura vs Fayl Kera
Match 2: Izan Thorne vs Naeva Solene
Match 3: Lyria Skorne vs Caelun Redd
Match 4: Kalen Voss vs Selle Varn
The centre of the arena was wider today. Any contraption was stripped.
It was now a battleground. As simple as that. A place to fight. A chance to represent not only your academy. Your planet.
Those who couldn't appear yesterday, were here today.
The biggest being the King himself. The admired King Azarel Elyndor.
Gold hair. Red eyes. Groomed to perfection. The humble age of 45.
A man of virtue. Of peace.
A man of no faults.
Another arrival today....was a nightmare.
A nightmare in the form of the head of the Voss family. Ashen bronze hair. A man who rules his family, but also his land, with cold authority. His hair, a reminder that Kalen's existence was a stain, on his illustrious resume.
Drevon Voss
-----
The sky above the coliseum simmered with low sunfire light glinting off the floating balconies. Among the highest platforms, a quiet tension lingered.
Drevon Voss stepped forward.
He wore a tailored robe of obsidian silk, lined with deep violet threads.
Shoulders squared, eyes sharper than a general, a subtle aura clung to him.
Gravity compressed, restrained.
Across him stood Korreth Halden, arms crossed behind his back. His silver-threaded uniform bore the sigil of Eldris's faculty.
His gaze held acknowledgement.
Drevon: "Halden. It's been some time."
Korreth: "Too long, the years haven't dulled your sense of timing."
Drevon scanned the arena, pausing on Kalen's name etched into the pairing list.
Drevon: "He'll need to be more than timely, today."
Korreth followed his gaze.
Korreth: "They all will."
Drevon offered a little nod.
"Your niece carries herself well. Clear-headed. Calculated."
"She's a Halden, after all." Korreth continued.
A pause.
It stretched. Dignified. Not cold.
There wasn't a further exchange. Only shared understanding between two pillars of noble legacies.
-----
Ayling: "We said yesterday would be wild. But today....today is war."
The crowd howled.
"The top eight are in. A single-elimination bracket. Each duel will be one-on-one. No reruns. No excuses."
There was a hum in the air.
"Remember....our winners will represent Eldris in the interplanetary tournament!." Ayling yelled, arms outstretched.
"But the path to glory is paved with blood, sweat.... and bruised egos."
"LETS BEGIN!"
-------
The stands were full.
No. Overfull.
The weight of reputation watching from the crowd pressed into every breath. Sector governors, planetary envoys.
A single spotlight spun over the centre platform.
The crowd burst like thunder.
A massive bracket flashed onto the screen. Students craned their necks. Cameras zoomed in.
Everyone looked to the same match.
Jacob Lacura vs Fayl Kera
Whispers ignited. Heat rose.
"This is it", someone muttered.
"Jacob's finally going to show us more than a test run."
"Fayl's strong too, isn't he?"
"He's not that strong."
Ayling waited for the noise to settle, then smiled.
"Let's begin with the opening duel of the top eight. The winner moves on to represent Eldris."
"The first match-!"
He paused.
Eyes turned.
"Jacob Lacura - "
"-versus...."
A second pause.
People leaned forward.
"No one.
The arena blinked.
Gasps rippled. Murmurs broke the air.
Ayling raised a hand to silence the confusion.
"Due to an official withdrawal submitted not long ago, Fayl Kera has chosen to forfeit his match."
A stunned silence followed, Then -
"BOOO!"
It didn't matter who his opponent was. Fayl was one of the Elite.
To back out, in front of planetary guests?
Ayling smiled.
"And so, Jacob advances to the semifinals by default."
The crowd turned.
Jacob stood near the gate.
He didn't look surprised.
His arms were folded, one eyebrow raised.
The camera zoomed in slightly.
He turned and walked away.
No theatrics.
Just indifference.
"Well," Ayling added, "that was anticlimactic. Perhaps our next duel will be less.... one-sided."
The bracket shifted. Jacob advanced.