The courtyard hung suspended between disbelief and elation. Kael's single spell had not merely defeated Jack—it shattered Blaze Citadel's aura of invincibility.
"Kael! Kael! KAEL!"
Celestial Haven's cheers shook Cloudspire's ancient stones. Jaxon limped forward, his battered frame straightening with effort. "You've done what none of us could these three years." His nod held the grudging respect of rivals turned allies.
The transfer student merely shrugged. "He was already winded."
Nearby, Ivy practically vibrated with excitement. "Senior Kael! I'm Ivy from elemental studies! That was... that was..." Words failed as she gestured wildly at the cratered battlefield.
From the pit came a rasping cough. Jack clawed at the rim, armor dented and pride in tatters. "What... areyou?"
Ivy whirled like an enraged sparrow. "Our secret weapon! Just wait till the Arcane Tournament!"
Murmurs spread through the warrior ranks. "One rookie..."
"...Celestial Haven's got teeth after all..."
A hulking axeman shoved forward. "Enough chatter! Mob him!"
Blaze Citadel adherents fanned out—fifteen combatants versus three mages. Jaxon's staff flared weakly as he positioned himself as a living barrier. "Go. I'll hold them."
Kael eyed the encroaching circle. Training swords and practice axes glinted dully under overcast skies. These weren't tournament champions, just brash foot soldiers emboldened by numbers.
Ivy's fingers sparked with novice-level flame. "We stand together!"
The axeman laughed, hefting his weapon. "Cute. Who's first?"
Neither noticed the silver sigils already dancing around Kael's boots—subtle, precise, and utterly foreign to standard magic curricula.
Ivy's knuckles whitened around her staff, though she held her ground against the wall of muscle and steel. Kael calculated the odds—fifteen warriors ranging from late fourth-tier to mid fifth-tier. Jaxon's labored breathing signaled his depleted reserves, while Ivy's flickering flame sigils barely qualified as distraction.
Then the tide turned.
"Touch him and burn!"
"Form elemental lines!"
Dozens of Celestial Haven students surged forward, staves raised in unison. The air crackled with gathering lightning and coalescing ice. Warriors hesitated under the sudden pressure of thirty simultaneous spell preparations.
A freckled pyromancer shoved through the ranks, eyes blazing. "Three years we've endured their mockery! Today we stand united!"
The declaration ignited something primal. Mages young and old pressed inward, forming concentric defensive rings around Kael. Their collective mana flux made torches gutter and armor plates vibrate.
Ivy blinked back tears. "They... they all came."
Jaxon leaned heavily on his fractured staff, astonishment overriding pain. "You've awakened more than spells today, Kael."
The transfer student observed the sea of determined faces. These weren't elite Celestial Haven members, just ordinary students kindling long-dormant pride. Their stances betrayed years of defensive thinking—clustered formations better suited for weathering assaults than launching attacks.
Yet now they advanced.
A burly spearman retreated step by step under the elemental onslaught. "This... this isn't how mages fight!"
"Adapt." Kael murmured, watching fire and frost dance in harmony above the crowd. The crude collaboration lacked finesse but overflowed with raw, desperate courage—the sort that topples dynasties.
From Cloudspire's upper balconies, unnoticed observers scribbled notes. The courtyard skirmish would make tomorrow's academy bulletins, but its true impact resonated deeper. After years of tactical retreats, Celestial Haven's rank-and-file had finally remembered how to charge.
"Who says warriors dominate lower tiers now?" Ivy's voice rang out, emboldened by the united mages. "Senior Kael just crushed last tournament's tenth rank!"
Her words crystallized the shifting mood. Where once Celestial Haven students had scattered under pressure, they now formed an unbroken chain of staves and simmering spells. Even novice mages stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their collective mana flux pressing outward like a living stormfront.
The lead warrior spat on cracked flagstones. "Think your parlor tricks scare us?" His combat aura flared—a mid fifth-tier broadsword specialist priming a charge.
Before either side could clash, frost bloomed across the courtyard.
A new presence stilled the chaos.
Golden hair caught the muted sunlight as the figure strode forward, gilded armor silent despite its ornate craftsmanship. Sun-burnished skin and keen eyes betrayed countless wilderness campaigns, while the absence of visible weapons spoke louder than any blade.
Warriors parted like tides before a warship. "Senior Ethan!" Jack rasped from his dented kneel, reverence overriding pain.
Murmurs died mid-syllable among the mages. This wasn't merely another tournament contender—this was the living legend who'd dominated three consecutive Arcane Combat Championships, the undefeated champion who made even Celestial Haven's faculty tread carefully.
Kael's grip tightened on the Earthflare Staff. Ethan's aura defied simple tier categorization, resonating with the sharp clarity of honed steel. No trace of magical enhancement, yet his mere arrival weighted the air like anvils.
The triple champion's gaze swept the battlefield, lingering on Jack's cratered armor before settling on Kael. No hostility radiated from him—just the detached assessment of a veteran observing promising raw material.
Ivy's whisper trembled. "That's... that's..."
"Blaze Citadel's crown jewel," Jaxon finished grimly. "Ethan Frostbane."