The academy grounds were abuzz with anticipation as the tournament season approached. A week remained until registration, and the air was thick with excitement. The vast stadium that would host the event loomed in the heart of the academy, its towering walls crafted from enchanted stone, shimmering faintly under the sunlight. Rows upon rows of reinforced seats surrounded the colossal battle arena, designed to accommodate thousands of spectators. Powerful protective barriers were already being tested, ensuring that stray spells or sword clashes wouldn't harm the audience.
Lyrian and Elyreina stood at the edge of the arena, watching as instructors finalized the preparations. Elyreina glanced at her brother, determination burning in her eyes. "Lyrian, are you really not going to participate? This is a huge opportunity."
He smiled, shaking his head. "There will be plenty of tournaments in the future, sis. I'd rather take my time and prepare properly. Besides, I'd rather cheer you on from the stands this time."
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In the center of the arena, a group of instructors gathered, discussing the tournament's structure. One of the senior officials, a seasoned battle mage, addressed the gathered students who were watching from the sidelines.
"The tournament will last two weeks. It will be divided into multiple rounds, with the first phase being open to all registrants. Only the top hundred will advance past the qualifiers. From there, the rounds will be elimination-based, narrowing the pool to the top sixteen, who will then battle for the championship."
Murmurs spread among the students watching from the stands. Some whispered excitedly about their strategies, while others analyzed the odds of making it past the qualifiers.
"A hundred out of who knows how many? That's going to be brutal," one student muttered, crossing his arms.
"At least it's not just a straight elimination from the start," another replied. "I'd rather have a shot at proving myself first instead of getting taken out in my first match."
Further up in the stands, a few older students exchanged knowing glances.
"New blood always gets too excited," a third-year remarked. "They don't realize just how intense the fights will be once they reach the elimination rounds. That's when things really start to matter."
"Especially with people like Michael Ikner and Byron competing this time," another added. "Most of the lower years are just here for experience—they don't stand a chance."
Despite the skepticism, the energy remained high. For many, this was a rare chance to test themselves against the academy's best.
Some students, particularly the first-years, buzzed with nervous excitement. Others—those more confident in their abilities—were already eyeing potential rivals. Bets were being placed, training schedules intensified, and weapons sharpened in anticipation.
Near the entrance to the arena, a pair of merchants haggled over stall placements, eager to set up shops selling potions, enchanted gear, and quick meals for spectators. The academy grounds would soon turn into a miniature city of commerce, fueling the competitive fervor even further.
The atmosphere was alive, brimming with anticipation. The tournament hadn't even begun, but for many, the battle had already started in their minds.