“On this day, nearly three thousand years ago, four heroes came together, to realize their dream. A dream of the future, where children could…”

The queen’s magically amplified voice echoed out across the city, as her image was once again projected into the sky. She spoke of the founders and their shared dream to create a place of learning for their descendants and the following generations after them. I tuned out all the flowery bits that she was embellishing, and only took note of four names, the founders themselves who had an academy named after each of them.

Svenia Jyvra, human mage.

Kortun Lesh’maer, elven archer.

Baloun ‘Black Fist’, beastman of the Monkey Tribes.

And Obella Cloud, a beastfolk of draconic lineage, and the only founder rumored to still be alive.

Four insignificant soldiers who met by happenstance and all wanted the same thing: to give those who came after them a chance to thrive and prosper, without having their opportunities snuffed out by the most persistent of foes: greed, fear, envy, and pride.

They pooled their resources and created the framework for the academy, with their heirs and comrades taking up the mantle after they passed. Now the academies represented a better future for all who walked through their walls.

I could think of a few bullied kids off the top of my head who would disagree with that statement, your queenliness.

Blah, blah, blah, friendship and teamwork, holding hands now and forevermore, bonds of fellowship, yeah, yeah. The queen was throwing out a bunch of pretty words which I mostly ignored, until I finally heard what I was waiting for.

“...and with that in mind, I hereby commence this year’s student tournament!” she shouted regally.

Whoops, cheers and claps followed her pronouncement, as the populace were finally celebrating a long-awaited event: the academy’s tournament.

As Her Highness so eloquently stated just a moment ago, the tournament was originally meant to be a proof of concept, a showcase to the nobles who provided funding and the fortunate commoners who were granted entry, that the students who had trained under the founders experienced vast improvements in their respective fields.

Time had warped the meaning of the tournament, as expected, and now it was something similar to the World Cup or the Super Bowl, just a game that people liked to gamble on. Yeah, the winners and runners-up got some prizes, but they were paltry trinkets compared to the increased budgets that the academies themselves received.

I was, thankfully, given permission to mingle with Teroa once more, even if it did take nearly two days for her to come to that decision. I shook my head at the obstinacy of women universe-wide, and wasn’t sure Teroa’s decision would prove to be a good thing for me.

In any case, our halved friend group was reunited and made whole once more, but Teroa stayed a considerable distance away from me, even after I apologized and she seemingly accepted in an uncharacteristically subdued voice.

I suppose she was still working things out.

Regardless, the tournament had commenced, and that meant we were able to watch our peers and seniors from the other academies participate and demonstrate their skills.

According to the schedules that were handed out, the mundane events would occur first, taking up to a week depending on the competitor’s results, before the instructors would perform some exhibition matches just to ‘wow’ the crowd, as it were, before the tournament ended with the magical events,

There would be a closing ceremony, where students with exceptional performances were lauded, and then the tournament would be officially over. It was rumored that if you were talented enough, the royal family would summon you to discuss working for them after graduating, but…judging by the expression on Riddis’ face when she told me, I couldn’t tell if she was being honest, or just getting some minor vengeance on me for Teroa’s sake.

At least she had stopped glaring at me.

There were plenty of events to watch, and none of us were competing until almost a full week later, so we decided to watch the first few events, and headed to the disgustingly large stadium on the outskirts of the city. The path leading to the stadium was packed full of people, as everyone was making their way there. I was almost puzzled by the absence of concession stands and canopied tents selling merch…until I decided that some things were better left on Earth.

The stadium was…gigantic, an earthen construct that could seat at least three hundred thousand, with projection screens showing the interior to those on the outside. A comparatively small ring of empty space encircled the stadium which allowed people who weren’t fortunate enough to find a seat inside, to at least view the stadium remotely via the projection.

To say the stadium was loud would be an understatement. Fans cheering, the blows from competitors, musical interludes from a performing troupe somewhere closeby, all the commotion and noises meshed together to create a tidal wave of sound that, ironically enough, prevented me from hearing anything, despite how much volume my friends used to scream their questions at me.

I only had to endure the nearly tangible wall of sound for a few minutes before the next event started. We had arrived in the middle of some kind of sprinting event, and once that was over and done with, a much more entertaining event was held:

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The obstacle course for fourth-years.

Now, of course I was aware that the tournament had different brackets set up for each year, but what I wasn’t expecting was that the fourth-years would be so…muscled. The competitors’ physiques, both male and female, would rival any Olympian from Earth, as they stood in their starting places in the stadium, waiting for the field to change for the event.

The large empty area of the stadium was quickly transformed by a group of mages who changed the grassy field into something resembling Ninja Warrior, an obstacle course with multiple hindrances for the competitors to contend with, though I did note the lack of the iconic warped wall.

Instead of an audio cue for the students to begin, there was a countdown on standby projected into the sky, waiting for the judges’ go-ahead to start.

The screen that said ‘Please Wait’ changed to a 3, then 2, 1, and finally a red ‘Start’ that the competitors all understood as their cue to rush forward.

They dashed from their starting line to the obstacles, and began clearing them with ease, making it look effortless to the masses. They swung from a set of monkey bars to a rope they had to climb up on, then dodged swinging hammers that came at them while they attempted to cross a narrow bridge. Pillars shot up from recesses in the ground and threatened to shoot them into the sky, and they had to leap over actual hurdles without coming in contact with any of them.

The contestants all completed the event, but the fastest to do so, and hence the winner, was a lean and wiry youth who barely looked twenty. He received a medal, some academy points, and a pair of boots that I assumed were somehow enchanted.

The obstacle course was thrilling to watch, the fourth-year students surpassing my expectations of them. I was under the assumption that since the fourth year was primarily devoted towards research, their physical or magical training would decline in quality. But the competitors I had just witnessed proved me wrong.

All the events would proceed by age bracket, so the events for fourth years would be up first, followed by the third years, and finally the second years.

The mundane events for our seniors were fun to watch, even if there wasn’t much to glean from the competitions. Perhaps the most educational of the events were the weapon-specific events, where the contestants were only allowed to fight with a specific weapon, sword, axe, spear, etc. At first, I thought the shield-only event would be more of a gag thing, just something to provide some comic relief in between the more serious matches, but it was the most brutal. Every…single…attack…went for the head. People only used the shield to bash their opponent unconscious in the first few seconds, then followed that up by ramming the shield’s edge into their mouth and banging down. Hard.

Needless to say, there were healers on standby waiting to fix up those too injured to stand on their own. And judging by the practical skills they showed, I’d presume they were either fourth-years or actual professionals.

The fourth and third-year brackets for the mundane events took a total of two weeks to finish up. The only reason they took so long was the weapon-specific tournaments, which usually had anywhere from dozens to hundreds of competitors, depending on the weapon, which meant the weapon tournaments were held in a single-elimination style, with the winner moving forward.

My friends, or occasionally the nearby audience members, would sometimes shout out the names of the winners and their achievements, but I didn’t recognize most of them, though I did have enough social sense to shout in exclamation or surprise when it was non-subtly hinted that I should be aware of who the competitors were.

The only person I recognized was Wetoile, from my ambulance duty at the city defense. She placed second in the gauntlet event for third-years, and stood proud and tall in the stadium despite missing a few of her teeth and having either cracked or broken her rib.

Finally, the time arrived for the mundane events for second-years.

In what I considered either a massive show of faith or acting on insider knowledge, Riddis and Jissa bet an insane amount of money on Teroa winning the blind fighting competition. I hadn’t made any bets thus far, and regardless of the feelings between Teroa or I, I wasn’t going to start gambling now. Not to mention, there were a lot of people who, at the very least, seemed competent enough in the event as well.

But of course, fate found a way to make me regret my previous words.

“And the winner in the blind fighting event for second-years is Citizen Teroa of Grentz!”

I clapped along with everyone else, even as I saw the victor look cautiously in my direction, then immediately look in a different direction once we made eye contact.

Sadly, she was eliminated midway through the obstacle course due to a careless misstep, but she was in a much better mood that night when she saw the towering pile of winnings our friends won thanks to her previous result.

A mini-feast was held to celebrate her victory (and commiserate her ‘unfair’ loss, but nobody wanted to provoke her by bringing it up) that lasted the night. She was much more composed than I recalled her being after she ambush-kissed me.

It was better to see her like this, smiling and making good-natured jokes, than wallowing in despair.

After all, you’re something of an expert when it comes to wasting your life in despair, aren’t you?

Shut up, asshole. You don’t get to affect me anymore.

Are you certain about that?

Yes.

And for the first time since I heard it, the mysterious voice in my head went silent.

I had finally come out on top without it getting a rise out of me, and that, more than anything else, put me in a better mood when I went to bed that night.

Now that the tournament was half-way through, it was time for the more flashy events to take place: the magic-based competitions.

And I only had two weeks to get myself in the best shape for it if I wanted the best prizes.

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“Where is he?” The woman’s voice was hurried and anxious as she entered the inn, almost at a sprint compared to her usually steady pace.

“I don’t know,” the worker trailing after her said, her breath frantic and uneven. She had her hands on her knees to prevent herself from falling over, and was taking sharp breaths to combat the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “The boss just sent me to fetch you once it happened,” she said, nearly panting for breath.

“Calm down, Evelyn. I put him to bed on the second floor after he collapsed,” the owner said as she walked out from behind her stand, her normally neutral expression gone, and replaced with one of compassion.

“He collapsed?!” Evelyn shouted out. “Take me to him, now!”

“Evelyn,” the owner said, as she gently put her hands on Evelyn’s shoulders, “I know you’re worried, but your son needs a mother who’s calm and in control, not one panicked and half-mad. Calm yourself.” The owner kept her voice firm yet gentle as she spoke. “You can go back to your duties,” she said to her side, dismissing the worker who had fetched Evelyn from her house.

The two women then went up the stairs to the second floor, and the owner unlocked the room where her youngest worker was resting in.

The boy had frozen in place in the middle of a sentence, his eyes glassy as he abruptly stopped talking. He was unresponsive to everyone and everything, no matter how many times they called out his name or gently touched him. After his short-lived paralysis that lasted a few minutes, while the workers were contemplating running out and getting a healer, the boy collapsed suddenly, shaking in spasms with his limbs almost locked in place.

Finally, he stopped moving after a few seconds and his eyes mercifully closed, hopefully letting the boy rest in the embrace of unconsciousness. His breathing was shallow during the…episode…but had resumed its normal pace by now. He was covered by the blankets, a small water-soaked cloth resting on his forehead to cool his fever.

His mother took one look at the boy before she burst into silent tears and began cuddling up right alongside him, kissing his head and gently rocking him back and forth in her arms, whispering quietly in his ear.

“I’ll be outside if you need me,” the inn’s owner said, deciding to give the family members some privacy.

A quiet, “Thank you,” from Evelyn let her know her message was gratefully received, and she stepped out into the hallway, lightly closing the door behind her.

Sighing to herself, she quickly walked back downstairs and informed one of her workers to fetch a healer for the boy, before heading back to stand outside his room.

Whatever was going on with little Gillen had her nearly as worried as his mother. That little boy was innocent as only the young could be, and his general demeanor endeared him to most people at the inn, even if his words sometimes accidentally caused offense.

She didn’t want anything untoward to happen to that little boy.

He didn’t deserve it.

No matter what he was going through.