The individual battles began at dawn.
Two hundred and twenty competitors, divided into sixteen brackets of roughly fourteen fighters each. The top two from each bracket would advance to the final thirty-two, who would then fight elimination matches until only one remained.
Ethan was placed in Bracket Seven—middle of the pack, far from the powerhouses like Lucien (Bracket One) and Seraphina (Bracket Four).
His first opponent was a fire mage from Phoenix Flame Academy named Gerald Stone. According to Ethan's [Eyes of the Reader], Gerald was B-Rank with a specialty in explosive combustion—powerful but unsubtle.
"This should be straightforward," Elena observed from the stands. She had finished her match in Bracket Twelve—a decisive victory against a wind mage who had underestimated her dimensional tricks.
"Don't jinx it," Ethan replied through their communication crystal.
"You're B+ rank and you've trained with Professor Marcus Ironheart. Gerald Stone's best showing was losing in the quarterfinals last year. You'll be fine."
"It's not Gerald I'm worried about. It's what happens if someone is watching how I fight."
"The Shadow Guild?"
"And whoever modified those ward arrays. And anyone else who might be interested in the 'Prophet Student' who keeps predicting things he shouldn't know."
"Then give them nothing to analyze," Luna's voice joined the conversation. "Fight conservatively. Win, but don't show your full capabilities."
"That's the plan."
The match was held in one of the coliseum's secondary arenas—smaller than the main stage, but still capable of seating ten thousand spectators.
Gerald Stone was a large man, his Phoenix Flame uniform straining across broad shoulders. Flames already flickered around his fists as he took his position across from Ethan.
"So you're the famous prophet," Gerald called out. "Heard you can predict the future. Can you predict how badly I'm going to burn you?"
Ethan didn't respond. He was scanning his opponent, his [Intention Reading] catching surface thoughts.
—arrogant Celestia bastard, thinks he's special—
—opening move: fire wave, force him to dodge, then follow up with explosive spheres—
—don't underestimate him, the intel says he's dangerous—
Intel, Ethan noted. Someone briefed him about me.
The match bell rang.
Gerald's opening move was exactly what Ethan had read—a wave of fire rolling across the arena floor, designed to force defensive movement.
But Ethan didn't dodge. Instead, he raised his hands and cast Mana Shield, forming a barrier that parted the flames around him like water around a stone.
Gerald's expression flickered with surprise. "Shields? You think shields will stop me?"
He launched his follow-up attack—three spheres of compressed fire, each containing enough explosive force to destroy a stone wall.
Ethan's shields caught them. The explosions detonated against his barriers, the sound deafening, the heat intense even through magical protection.
But the shields held.
"My turn," Ethan said.
He'd been conservative in showing his abilities, but he needed to win this match to advance. A single demonstration of offensive capability would be acceptable.
He extended his hand and cast a spell he'd developed specifically for opponents who relied on raw power: Mana Disruption Field.
The spell was subtle—not a direct attack, but an interference pattern that destabilized mana constructs within its range. Against a mage like Gerald, whose fire spells required constant mana input to maintain, it was devastating.
Gerald's flames flickered, then sputtered, then died entirely.
"What—" He tried to reignite them, but his mana kept dispersing before it could form into fire. "What did you do to me?!"
"I'm not fighting your fire," Ethan explained, walking forward. "I'm fighting your mana. And mana manipulation is my specialty."
He closed the distance while Gerald struggled, then delivered a precisely targeted strike to the solar plexus—physical, not magical, exactly where Professor Marcus had taught him.
Gerald crumpled.
"Winner: Ethan Blackwood of Celestia Academy!"
The crowd's reaction was mixed. Some cheered; others seemed confused.
"That was anticlimactic," a voice said from behind Ethan as he left the arena. He turned to find Victoria watching him, her golden eyes amused.
"I wasn't trying for climax. I was trying for efficient."
"It showed. You barely used any mana—anyone analyzing your fighting style learned almost nothing."
"That was the point."
"I know. I'm impressed." She fell into step beside him. "My match isn't for another two hours. Want to grab lunch?"
"Sure. The others?"
"Lucien won his match in thirty seconds. Seraphina is fighting now—she'll win. Aria's match is this afternoon. Luna is... being Luna."
"Shadowing the Shadow Guild?"
"Something like that."
They walked through the tournament complex toward the food vendors, two warriors briefly at peace amid the chaos of competition.
Lunch was a surprisingly normal affair.
Victoria ordered meat—lots of meat, practically a carnivore's feast. Ethan selected something lighter, his stomach too unsettled for heavy food.
"You're nervous," Victoria observed between bites.
"The kidnapping attempt is tomorrow."
"And you've planned for it. Prepared countermeasures. Briefed the team." She speared another piece of meat. "What else can you do?"
"Worry."
"Worrying doesn't help. Action helps." She pointed her fork at him. "You've done more to prepare for this tournament than anyone I've ever seen. If things still go wrong, it won't be because you failed to try."
"That's not very comforting."
"It's not meant to be comforting. It's meant to be true." She resumed eating. "My father used to say that a warrior's duty is preparation. What happens after that is fate."
"You talk about your father a lot."
"He raised me. Trained me. Made me who I am." Her expression darkened slightly. "He's also involved in some of the conspiracy against the tournament. I learned that recently."
Ethan set down his fork. "Victoria—"
"Don't. I know what you're going to say. 'It's not your fault.' 'You're not responsible for his choices.' I've heard it all."
"I was going to say that it must be hard. Loving someone who's done terrible things."
Victoria was quiet for a moment.
"It is," she admitted finally. "He's still my father. Part of me will always love him. But another part knows that what he's doing is wrong. That if he succeeds, innocent people will die."
"What are you going to do?"
"Stop him, if I have to." Her voice was steady, but her eyes held pain. "Whatever it takes."
[AFFECTION UPDATE]
Victoria Blackthorn: 55 → 63/100 (Deepening Trust)
The afternoon matches proceeded without incident.
Aria won her bout against a nature mage from Western Grove—a closer fight than expected, but she pulled through with a combination of defensive healing and targeted holy magic.
Luna didn't compete; her match was scheduled for Day Three, and she was using the free time for reconnaissance.
Seraphina dominated her bracket as expected, her ice magic freezing opponents before they could mount meaningful offense.
And Lucien... Lucien was Lucien. His matches were barely matches at all—demonstrations of overwhelming power that left crowds cheering and opponents surrendering.
By evening, all of Ethan's allies had advanced to the second round of individual competition.
The first day was over.
Tomorrow, everything would change.