Kael nearly groaned aloud as Grace made her move. Typical of the Little Princess of the Guyi Empire—money truly is no object.
Grace had pulled out magic scrolls.
These scrolls—imbued with pre-cast spells requiring only a flick of mana to activate—were notoriously rare and exorbitant. Crafting a single fifth-tier scroll demanded the expertise of an Eighth-Circle Arcane Mage, and even then, success rates hovered around 33%. The result? A fifth-tier utility scroll could fetch nearly ten thousand gold coins on the black market.
Yet here Grace stood, casually unfurling over a dozen of them.
Each parchment pulsed with fifth-tier mana, drawing gasps from the crowd. Her opponent, the earth mage, paled. He'd assumed an easy victory against this delicate girl. Now he faced a walking armory.
"How is this even a fair fight?" the earth mage wailed, despair etched on his face.
Grace's fingers danced. Three scrolls ignited in succession:
"Avalanche Surge!"
"Gravity Well!"
"Aqua Bindings!"
Water and earth mana collided, entombing the mage. He scrambled backward, chanting a shield—too slow. Scrolls meant instant-cast spells.
BOOM!
The triple assault hurled him beyond the arena's edge.
A stunned silence gripped the spectators, followed by uneasy murmurs. Over a dozen fifth-tier scrolls—worth a small kingdom's treasury—had been spent like copper coins. And Grace? She merely tucked a stray hair behind her ear, serene as if she'd tossed confetti.
Finn's jaw hung slack. "Holy hell, Kael—what's the deal with your junior? Is she a walking treasury?" Though he'd grown familiar with Grace over recent months, her true identity remained a mystery.
Kael sighed. "Living proof that money is power."
For Grace, heir to the Guyi Empire's throne, burning a few fifth-tier scrolls was pocket change. A future queen's allowance could fund entire wars—let alone a dozen spell parchments.
Vesper twitched as he announced her victory, then hastily amended the rules: "Effective immediately, contestants are banned from using fifth-tier or higher scrolls. Violators forfeit!"
"That's unfair!" Grace stomped her foot, indignant. "I even packed seventh-tier scrolls! What's the point now?!"
Kael resisted facepalming. Letting you spam seventh-tier spells would've ended this tournament outright.
The crowd buzzed with renewed excitement. This year's chaos—from Ethan's dominance to Grace's absurd arsenal—kept everyone guessing.
Kael placated his pouting junior until the projection crystal flared again, drawing a collective gasp.
"Dylan," Kael muttered, gaze sharpening.
In Zone Four, the third-ranked finalist of the last tournament—and Mage Academy's current top prodigy—took the stage. Dylan's serene composure belied the storm within.
His robes billowed as mana radiated from him like a tidal surge, crushing his opponent's resolve. The hapless mage staggered, barely standing under the pressure.
A murmur swept the stands.
Dylan's unleashed aura left no doubt: he'd breached the Seventh Circle.
"By the gods… How old is he? A Seventh-Circle Mage already?!"
"Yanhua Academy truly breeds monsters. Is he even weaker than Ethan now?!"
Seventh-tier strength—a threshold rarely seen even in past tournaments.
"Senior Dylan!" screamed adoring fans, their shrill voices piercing the din.
Dylan's opponent, cowed by the suffocating mana pressure, surrendered instantly. Against a Seventh-Circle force, conceding was no shame.
Amid thunderous cheers, Dylan raised his staff. Slowly, deliberately, he pointed it skyward—toward Ethan's distant arena.
Ethan, ever observant, flashed a wolfish grin. Unfazed by Dylan's display, he crooked a finger in mock invitation.
The crowd erupted.
"Ethan's provoking him!" Finn croaked. The tournament's final phase hadn't even begun, yet sparks flew between the warrior and mage academies' reigning titans.
Vesper milked the drama. "A historic first! A Seventh-Circle contender in the preliminaries! Will this year's grand clash between mage and warrior factions surpass all others?"
Mage Academy supporters roared like madmen, chanting Dylan's name. Years of humiliation under warrior dominance seemed to combust in their frenzy.
"These mages… Have they lost their minds?" Dark Knight Carlos shuddered, unnerved by the hysteria.
Golden Lion Eli's expression darkened. Though nearing seventh-tier himself, Dylan's breakthrough dwarfed his progress. The pressure was palpable.
Warrior Academy factions shifted uneasily. A Seventh-Circle Mage—this year's balance had tilted.
"Seventh-tier, huh? Feeling the heat, Kael?" Finn sucked in a sharp breath. A Seventh-Circle Mage was no joke—higher-tier mages exponentially amplified their lethality, and Dylan stood one step from the revered Arcane Mage realm.
Kael smiled. "Pressure? Sure. But excitement too." His eyes burned like smoldering embers. Though daunting, Dylan's strength wasn't insurmountable. Two months of grueling training with Moonlight Veil and Frostheart Essence had honed his mutated magic to a razor's edge. Against any foe below seventh-tier, he radiated confidence.
Still, Dylan's presence loomed like a mountain.
"First, I'll claim my zone's crown," Kael replied calmly. Even with Golden Lion Eli in his bracket, failing to dominate here would bar him from facing Ethan or Dylan at all.
The Mage Academy isn't Dylan's stage alone. His gaze met Amelia's encouraging smile, and they shared a silent pact.
The crowd roared, electrified by the early clashes of titans.
"This unpredictability's thrilling," Finn mused. "No Ethan monopoly this year—" He froze, gaping at the projection crystal. "Holy hell, Kael… Your next opponent is him."
The screen updated with matchups. Zone One: Kael vs. Korgoth.
Amelia's brow furrowed. Kael tilted his head. "Who's Korgoth?"
Finn grimaced. "Your luck's… unique. Korgoth's a rare breed of monster."
"Korgoth's from your Mage Academy," Finn explained. "A master of dark magic, but notoriously reclusive. Barely has friends. He skipped the last tournament, yet many rank him among the academy's top three. No clue why he's competing now—weird…"
"Beat him, and you'll turn heads," Finn added, clapping Kael's shoulder.
"A hidden ace," Kael mused, intrigued. Dark magic practitioners were rare—and dangerous.
"Exactly. Don't underestimate him," Finn warned.
Kael nodded. Underestimating foes wasn't his style, but the challenge excited him.
Vesper's voice boomed as the day's matches concluded: "Today dazzled us! Dylan's Seventh-Circle revelation! Ethan's one-strike dominance! But the true thrill lies in the dark horses—anyone could break through mid-tournament! Remember, Yanhua's eighth champion clawed victory from fifth-tier obscurity by leaping to sixth-tier peak in a single bout!"
The crowd roared. Vesper's flair aside, his words held truth. Yanhua's prodigies thrived in volatility—breakthroughs mid-battle were legendary.
"Time to train!" Finn declared, uncharacteristically earnest. "Gotta push to mid sixth-tier!"
Kael smirked. "Five months to rise from fifth-tier? Slacking."
"Not everyone's a freak like you…" Finn groaned, trudging off. Grace followed, leaving Kael and Amelia alone.
"Want to walk?" Kael asked.
"Sure," Amelia agreed. They strolled side by side, the silence between them oddly comforting. Though neither spoke, Kael felt a rare sense of calm.
Around them, whispers swirled. Amelia's fame far eclipsed Kael's, and the envy radiating from onlookers prickled his skin.
"Your charm's a double-edged sword," Kael remarked dryly, enduring glares sharper than any blade. Even the trio of sixth-tier assassins hadn't unnerved him this much.
"Their stares mean nothing to me," Amelia replied, her voice cool yet her gaze softening as it met his.
"What about my gaze?" The words slipped out unbidden.
Amelia stiffened abruptly, her eyes widening. Then, a faint blush colored her cheeks as she arched a brow, her look silently teasing: Coward.
Kael coughed, hastily redirecting. "Uh—why's that crowd gathered over there?" He nodded toward a clamorous group.
The source of the commotion? A bustling betting ring operated by none other than Toms—the infamous rogue turned bookie, now thriving post-Black Dragon Syndicate's downfall.
Odds for tomorrow's matches flashed on boards. Kael grimaced at his own: 3-to-1 against him in his duel with Korgoth.
"Place your bets, folks! Tomorrow's matches are goldmines!" Toms hollered, stoking the frenzy. Gamblers crowded the booth, eyes glinting.
"Kael vs. Korgoth—who's the smart pick?" one patron barked.
"Obviously Korgoth!" another snapped. "Peak sixth-tier dark mage—a top-ten contender! That Kael kid's just a flash in the pan!"
"Don't dismiss him. Saw his fight with Fillet—he's lethal," a skeptic argued.
Debates raged, but most bets flooded toward Korgoth. Kael watched silently from the periphery, unnoticed.
"Ah, gambling," Amelia remarked, joining him.
"Toms' handiwork. My odds are… humbling," Kael muttered.
"3-to-1. Better than I expected."
Before Kael could retort, Amelia glided forward. The crowd parted instinctively, spellbound by her ethereal presence.
She placed a crystal card on Kael's betting pool. "A hundred thousand gold coins on Kael," she said softly.
Gasps erupted. A hundred thousand—a king's ransom—hung on a single match.
Amelia returned to Kael, mischief dancing in her eyes. "That's my entire purse. Don't you dare lose."