Kael's crystal token read: Match 2 – Patrick!
Patrick, unanimously deemed the weakest among the Elite Eight by Finn, was a mid-sixth-rank mage who had scraped into the quarterfinals. His advancement owed much to Flamecrest Academy's top talents – Kael, Ethan, Dylan, and Amelia – dominating other zones, leaving slim pickings in his own. Now, facing Kael, his luck had run dry.
Kael glanced at his opponent: short stature, unremarkable features, and an aura noticeably weaker than his own. With composite magic and summoning prowess now at his command, Kael could challenge even seventh-rank adversaries. Patrick's mid-sixth-rank strength posed little threat.
A faint smile tugged at Kael's lips. Avoiding Amelia had been his only concern. Drawing Patrick? A free pass to the semifinals.
Patrick grimaced, fully aware his tournament journey ended here. Kael had just toppled last year's runner-up, the Golden Lion – what chance did he, a borderline quarterfinalist, stand?
"Lucky bastard," Finn muttered, eyeing Kael's token enviously. "If I pull Eric next…" He reached into the drawbox.
"Dammit!" Finn's groan echoed across the stage. His token glowed ominously: Match 1 – Ethan!
Kael winced in sympathy. The "Berserker" Ethan was this bracket's undisputed nightmare. Even miracles couldn't save Finn now.
"Why?!" Finn wailed melodramatically. "I thought I was the chosen prodigy destined for top three! Now I've drawn Ethan? Might as well forfeit…"
Ignoring his friend's theatrics, Kael turned to Amelia. Her token paired her with Eric – the other underwhelming quarterfinalist. Eric stood ashen-faced, already mentally drafting his concession speech.
The bracket's most anticipated clash pitted 'Mad Demon' Andrew against Dylan. Though Andrew had secured fourth place in the previous tournament, trailing Dylan by a hair, this year's Dylan radiated overwhelming dominance. Having ascended to seventh rank early, he honed his skills with single-minded focus, his sights set on the tournament's crown.
Kael tipped the scales in Dylan's favor.
With the draw finalized, the semifinal picture crystallized. Barring upsets – near-impossible at this stage – Kael, Ethan, Dylan, and Amelia would clash for ultimate glory.
Finn, ever the dramatist, lamented his fate: "Thought you'd eliminate Ethan early and carry me to top three! Now I'm doomed to obscurity, forever barred from the Sacred Assembly…"
Before Kael could muster sympathy, Finn brightened. "But hey! Made the Elite Eight! Some warrior senior even confessed to me yesterday! Hah!"
Kael rolled his eyes. This clown deserves no pity.
"The quarterfinals commence in three days!" Vesper's announcement boomed. "First match: 'Mad Demon' Andrew versus Dylan! Followed by Kael versus Patrick in the afternoon!"
Kael stretched lazily. The Patrick duel warranted no anxiety – not arrogance, but cold assessment. His opponent's mid-sixth-rank prowess paled against composite magic and frostfire mastery.
A formality before the true battles began.
Of the Elite Eight, only two represented the Magic Academy: Kael and Dylan. The rest hailed from Warrior Academy factions. Yet the warriors' usual bravado had dimmed, humbled by the mages' resurgence. Talents like Korgoth and Cruy – who might have claimed quarterfinal slots in weaker years – had fallen to the likes of Kael, a first-year who'd toppled a freshly ascended seventh-rank warrior.
No one dared underestimate the Magic Academy now. Kael and Dylan shone as its twin beacons, with many proclaiming Kael the tournament's defining marvel.
As competitors dispersed to prepare, the crowd lingered, replaying Kael's iconic victory. Enterprising vendors hawked enchanted broadsheets emblazoned with freeze-frames of the Golden Lion's defeat. The stark contrast between Kael's calm demeanor and his opponent's vacant despair dominated the front page. The headline blared: Who Can Stop Him?
Kael's legend burgeoned, drawing comparisons to Ethan's meteoric rise. All wondered how far this dark horse could gallop.
Hand in hand with Amelia, he walked the academy grounds, drawing envious and jealous gazes. Their compatibility seemed undeniable – at least to Kael, who relished the softness of her palm despite her knightly calluses.
"Our quarterfinal matches are formalities," he remarked, thumb tracing circles on her skin. Amelia shot him a mock-reproachful glance he cheerfully ignored.
"Semifinals won't be the issue," she countered. "It's our potential clash afterward that worries me."
Kael squeezed her hand. "We'll avoid that bracket."
"You held back today," Amelia observed. "That frostfire vortex felt… incomplete."
"Composite magic," Kael admitted. "Still in its infancy. The true fusion would've leveled the arena."
Three days remained to perfect it. Three days to forge a weapon capable of toppling Dylan's earthshaking might or Ethan's berserker fury. The countdown to legend had begun.
Though ranks weren't absolute, Dylan and Ethan stood leagues above the Golden Lion. True seventh-rank geniuses, their mastery eclipsed the warrior's clumsy breakthrough.
Strength. Only greater strength matters.
Unfazed, Kael gestured toward a secluded riverside path. "Let's rest there." The Azure Sparrow River wound through Flamecrest's grounds, its banks framed by lush reeds swaying in the twilight breeze – a sanctuary of tranquility.
Amelia followed silently. Settling amidst the rustling grass, Kael's battle-taut nerves gradually unwound. Fatigue flooded his bones now that adrenaline's rush had faded.
Noticing his weariness, Amelia shifted closer. Cool fingertips pressed against his temples, kneading gently. Her scent – wildflowers and steel – enveloped him as stray strands of her hair tickled his ear pleasantly.
Despite her knightly discipline, Amelia's proximity revealed contradictions: her skin retained a knight's resilience without sacrificing silken softness. Kael's breath hitched as her thigh brushed his, every accidental contact sparking forbidden imaginings…