Dunstan was the next class S student up, and it was a far more solemn class S that watched him leave.

Liliana couldn’t help but think it would’ve been far better if he’d been the one knocked out rather than Dawn. There was no love lost between her and Dunstan, the boy having thrown his lot in with Zir’elon and effectively made an enemy of herself and the rest of her friends with that choice.

Still, if he won this round, she hoped it would be her or one of her friends that got the chance to knock him back down.

When he emerged on the sands on the illusion, another student stood across from him, Lawson Bexley of class B. The two students listened while the rules were read out to them once more before the round was called to start.

Immediately, Dunstan started moving, automatons rising from the ground between him and Bexley.

Dunstan’s lifeless toy soldiers moved forward even as Dunstan continued to back away, putting space between himself and his opponent. Fire and earth rose to Bexley’s side as he threw gouts of flame and thick boulders at the approaching automatons, yet every one he brought down only seemed to spawn two more in its place, like a hydra.

“He should’ve struck hard and fast as soon as the round started. Not given Dunstan the chance to build his army.” Liliana sighed, tapping her fingers against her thigh in annoyance.

“He was buffing himself. Did you see that light that covered him? He has a Life affinity or I’ll eat my shoes.” Marianne replied with a frown.

“He wasted precious time buffing himself instead of attacking.” Emyr said with a shake of his head.

They all knew that Dunstan was a powerful adversary. If you couldn’t overpower him and his toys in a dedicated fight, then your best bet was to knock him out before he could start building an army. There was a reason in team fights that he was almost always a top priority target in their class. Something Bexley sadly seemed to be unaware of, at as he continued to focus his attention on the circling automatons, leaving Dunstan free to continue summoning more to surround him.

The fight had been decided in the first thirty seconds, Bexley just didn’t realize he was already a dead man walking. It was obvious Bexley was far more accustomed to fighting with a team, if his first instinct at the beginning of the fight had been to buff rather than to go on the offensive. When fighting someone you didn’t have information on, it was best to knock them out as soon as possible, instead of risking giving them time to build a devastating attack.

It took Dunstan five minutes total to knock Bexley out, his automatons practically drowning the other boy under their numbers. Money changed hands once more around their group from won or lost bets as Dunstan exited the field, looking none the worse for wear from his fight.

Dunstan had more sense than Zir’elon. Rather than crowing about his victory, he returned to the prince’s side with hardly a glance at Liliana’s group. The next combatants stepped onto the field minutes after Dunstan returned, one student from class C and the other from class B. Liliana recognized Devina Stuart-Lane from both her Soul class and from the Beast club.

Liliana leaned forward with interest. She knew Stuart-Lane had a few bonds. A Hellhound, a Shadow Wolf, and two water Nymphs. As the game was called to start, Liliana watched as four creatures were summoned to the ring, Stuart-Lane falling behind their ranks as they faced off against Audrey Wilkins.

Stuart-Lane fulfilled the customary role of a tamer, staying out of the fight and seeming to continuously buff her beasts, her affinities showing through in the various elemental armors and advantages she gave her beasts, from armor made of darkness itself to acid tipped claws.

Wilkins seemed to have fewer affinities, but she was proficient in them. Blades made of darkness and flames cutting into the beasts that tried to bring her down. As opposed to Stuart-Lane’s tendency to stay back in a fight, Wilkins seemed more comfortable in the thick of it.

Her weapon of choice was one Liliana had only ever seen in stores or on the training room walls. A Kusarigama, a sickle at the end of a chain. She used it with ruthless efficiency, the blade slicing and tearing even while she used the chain to trip and block opponents.

The fight ended when Wilkins got past the beasts and struck Stuart-Lane with a devastating attack. The class B student had made the mistake of saving none of her bonds for defending her, sending all of them out to attack. Liliana sighed in disappointment, both for the coins she lost betting on a fellow tamer and at seeing one so easily defeated.

Then again, the strongest beasts in the world would never make up for a weak tamer, or one so critically lacking in tactical thinking.

“It’s us now, I guess.” Emyr said with a sigh as he and Anya stood up. They were the only ones on their team who would be fighting each other in the first round of fights.

“I won’t go easy on you just ‘cause you’re my friend.” Anya warned Emyr, cracking her neck and shaking her arms out, throwing mock punches in the air.

“Neither will I.” Emyr promised her, eyes darkening with a cruel glint.

“Good luck, both of you.” Liliana told them, followed by the rest of the group.

They were all excited for one of their friends to get into the next round of fights, but they knew it would mean one of them wouldn’t be coming back. The possibility that it wasn’t simply the next round one of their friends wouldn’t be returning for, but the semester itself hung heavy above them like a guillotine’s blade as the pair stepped out of the room.

The group turned to the illusion, eyes glued to it. No one stepped up to ask for bets. No one was willing to bet against either of their friends. Or to profit off of a friend’s loss at the hands of another.

“Is it possible for two people to lose a round? If so, I bet those two idiots can manage it.” Zir’elon’s taunting voice carried over and Liliana whipped around, eyes narrowed in a glare.

“Keep talking. How long do you think it would take a professor to get here? Five seconds? Ten? Enough time for me to cut that disgusting tongue out of your mouth so you learn how to keep quiet.” Liliana growled, her fear for her friends easily igniting into a righteous fury in her chest.

A heavy hand clamped tight to her shoulder and Liliana looked to the side to see Alistair gripping her, holding her back.

“Don’t bother, he’s so toxic his blood would probably foul any blade of yours beyond repair.” Alistair told her, and Liliana let out a low hiss before she shook her head, turning back around.

Zir’elon finally seemed to find a brain-cell, because gods knew he had none as it was, and kept his mouth shut. Liliana took a deep breath, grounding herself and letting the anger wash out of her.

“If you ever make good on that threat, please let me watch.” Koth’talan leaned towards her to whisper, and Liliana felt a smile tug at her lips.

“Maybe I’ll sell tickets for the show.” She said with a snort.

The group quieted when Emyr and Anya stepped out onto the sands, side by side, as they approached the professor acting as referee. Rules were read. By this time, Liliana would bet money on all first years being able to recite them by rote. It was the only thing they could hear over the illusion, all other sounds muted. By design or lack of imagination, Liliana wasn’t sure.

The game was called to start, and the two students moved. Anya charged at Emyr, great leaping bounds that took her further than anyone without a Gravity affinity would manage. Emyr vanished into the shadows just as Anya reached him, leaving her to strike hard packed sands rather than his body with her fists.

As Anya whirled around, ears swiveling and eyes scanning for Emyr, her shadow surged, thick ropes made of darkness wrapping around her legs and restraining her. Anya struggled, breaking free of the trap, but the time spent getting free gave Emyr the time to send a spell her way. Anya barely managed to jump into the air above the hungry flames, her feet still taking damage and turning her shield a light yellow as she hung almost weightless in the air.

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Anya spun in the air, trying to find where Emyr had hidden himself, but the shadowy mage didn’t reveal himself. Instead, around the entire coliseum, small balls of fire appeared, dancing for a moment before they all shot at Anya.

The wolf girl dropped through the air like a falling anvil, impacting the ground with enough force to leave cracks surrounding her as the balls of fire converged where she’d been seconds before, a huge blast sending a wave of air and heat across the coliseum. Anya went down to one knee, hands digging into the ground as she struggled to keep herself from being thrown back at the force.

As Anya focused on keeping her balance, Emyr wasn’t idle. More shadows rose from the darkness pooled behind Anya, expanding and gripping onto her, trying to drag her the rest of the way to the ground. Anya wrestled with the shadows, fighting both them and the force of the blast still pinning her in place. She was unable to dodge the wave of black tinted fire that crashed into her.

Anya was sent tumbling back, body hitting the ground twice before she found her feet, hands and feet digging into the ground and leaving deep gouges in the sand until she stopped. Her shield was dyed a cheery yellow that didn’t match the thunderous look on her face as she looked around for the still hiding Emyr. Her mouth opened, shouting something they couldn’t hear through the illusion. Probably an insult.

In response, four swords formed of darkness and wreathed in flames shot at Anya from behind. The wolf girl was forced to dodge, punching one sword, ducking under another, and jumping over the last two. Yet even as she fought, more shadowy swords appeared, firing at Anya with no reprieve, keeping her moving and on the defensive. Anya couldn’t fight against the swords, for when she made the mistake of trying, one attacked her open back, tinting her shield closer to orange.

Anya kept herself moving, taking to the air as often as she ran across the ground. Swords made of shadows and flame, fireballs compacted so tight they barely looked bigger than a fist, yet left craters in the ground where they hit, and waves of shadow and flames harried her.

“He’s running her Stamina down,” Liliana murmured.

It wasn’t a bad plan.

As long as Emyr kept to the shadows and moving, sending a nonstop stream of attacks, Anya would struggle to locate him. Her sense of hearing and smell was enhanced compared to a human’s, but with so much noise and scents from his attacks confusing her, and his attacks keeping her attention, she wouldn’t be able to find him. If Anya could land a single hit on Emyr, the fight would be over, and he knew that.

The only question was, would Anya run out of Stamina before Emyr ran out of Mana?

“No, look at the sky.” Alistair said, nodding at the illusion.

Liliana dragged her eyes from watching Anya dancing between attacks to look at the sky above the coliseum, eyes widening when she saw what appeared to be five stars sparkling in the noon sky.

“He’s keeping her distracted, so she doesn’t realize he’s channeling a spell.” Marianne said, voice soft and awed. Liliana whistled, leaning forward and watching even more intently as the fight continued.

Anya was obviously getting quite annoyed as the game of cat and mouse continued with no mouse in sight for her to beat into submission. The stars above her head continued to grow in size and light, but Anya never looked up.

Anya’s shield had turned a yellowish-orange when Emyr finally made his move.

Shadows converged in the center of the coliseum and Emyr stepped out of them, a satisfied smirk on his face. Anya noticed him almost immediately and, with what was probably a fierce battle cry, charged straight for him.

“Isn’t he going to dodge?” Rathwater asked when Emyr continued to stand still even as Anya got closer.

It was only at the last second that he threw up a thick wall of shadows, just enough to slow her charge and take some of her momentum as she broke through it, barreling into him and bearing him to the ground. Emyr’s shield turned a dangerous shade of burnt orange as Anya held him down, raising one fist back to punch down and finish the fight.

Emyr grinned, jutting his chin and presumably telling her to look up.

Anya faltered, head tilting back to look up. The second her eyes were off of him, Emyr melted into the shadows made by his and Anya’s bodies. A heartbeat later, the five stars finally free broke from the sky, crashing into Anya, who only had the time to presumably mutter a curse before meteors the size of Lelantos barreled into her.

“Well. Shit.” Liliana eloquently said, as Emyr was declared the victor. The rest of the team muttered something of a similar sentiment except Alistair, who was glowing with pride.

The group was happy for Emyr’s decisive and clever victory, but their cheer was dampened, knowing it came at the cost of Anya’s own victory. It was bittersweet, because one of their friends would go on, but another would not. And it would sting Anya terribly, having been knocked out before she ever truly got a chance to fight.

“My turn now,” Alistair said, standing up and stretching out his body.

“Don’t you dare lose, I want a chance to pound you to dust.” Liliana ordered him.

“I won’t lose. I need to remind you to respect your elders in our fight, after all.” Alistair told her, ruffling her hair with a cheeky grin.

“Good luck. Show them why class S is the best.” Marianne ordered him and Alistair nodded.

Rathwater and Koth’talan offered their own well wishes. Alistair headed for the door just as Emyr stepped in. With a glance at the group, Alistair dragged Emyr out of the room, presumably so they could have their own private talk.

“Wanna bet they're making out?” Marianne asked with a smirk, and Liliana gagged.

“Gross! I don’t want to think about my brother and the guy I see as a brother kissing.” Liliana groaned, grimacing and wishing she could purify her brain of the mental image Marianne had just put in there.

Emyr walked back into the room moments later. Liliana saw Marianne opening her mouth, eyes glinting with mischief, and quickly covered the princess’ mouth with a hand.

“That was a good fight,” Liliana jumped in to say. Emyr blinked at her, eyes dazed for a moment before they cleared and he coughed slightly.

“Thank you.” Emyr nodded at her.

“Clever of you to keep her distracted like that.” Koth’talan grunted. Liliana yelped as a wet tongue licked her hands and she yanked her hand away, shaking it with disgust.

“Did you just lick me?” Liliana demanded.

“Shouldn’t have covered my mouth.” Marianne said primly, shrieking and scuttling away when Liliana tried to wipe her spit damp hand on Marianne’s face. Liliana settled on wiping off the nasty wetness on her pants.

“Savage gremlin.” Liliana muttered with a scowl at her defaced appendage.

“Hush, Alistair’s fight is starting.” Emyr barked at them, eyes locked on the illusion.

“Young love, so precious.” Marianne teased, settling back next to Liliana when it was clear she had no more spit to wipe on her. Liliana elbowed the princess carefully, and they settled in to watch the fight.

Alistair was against Francis Rowe of class A. Liliana didn’t recall seeing the boy in any classes or clubs with her, so she had little idea of what affinities he might have.

“Earth, Dark, Life, Plague.” Emyr murmured quietly.

“You know him?” Liliana asked as the rules were read and the match called to start.

“He’s in my Dark class. I make a point to know about anyone in my classes.” Emyr shrugged, as if keeping track of so many students was nothing.

Liliana narrowed her eyes, Emyr not seeming to even notice the assessing stare being leveled on him as his attention stayed fixed to the illusion.

She’d bet he had some information on every first year. She should remember to ask him about that later. Next tournament, she shouldn’t walk in with so little information. Her year mates wouldn’t always be so far below her and her tames. Eventually, they might be able to match her abilities. She would do well to be prepared for that.

Alistair immediately started by buffing himself when the fight was called to start. His skin became metallic, shimmering slightly under the sunlight, and an extra shield made of light and one of metal popped up to circle him even as he strode towards Rowe. His opponent was a ranged fighter, not a mage but employing what looked like a blowgun and a small crossbow that sat on his wrist.

Liliana wondered if that was how he utilized his Plague affinity, imbuing his projectiles with disease. His fighting style was probably closer to a rogue than an archer. His weapons were midrange rather than the longer range of a proper bow or larger crossbow.

The smaller projectiles made it harder for Alistair to block them, his floating shields and the one he used manually kept most away, but some still got through the gaps in his defense to bounce off his Academy shield.

However, if they managed to still get him with an effect, it would take time to see. Plague was less quick than Poison in affecting others, but was just as deadly. If not more so. A Plague user was far more deadly to an army than a Poison user. One on one, though, Poison would always be superior. And in fights like this? There was no contest.

Rowe kept darting back as Alistair approached, always staying out of range of the tank’s sword. However, Alistair kept coming, steady and relentless. Liliana knew the tactic and knew how effective it could be. Alistair’s Stamina would be far greater than that of a rogue type fighter, who usually focused on Speed, Dexterity and Strength. Or, more rarely, Speed, Dexterity, Intelligence and Wisdom. Alistair could outlast almost any fighter as a tank.

That was how the fight proceeded, Rowe trying to stay back, peppering Alistair with attacks. Some obviously aspected with one of his elements, others seemingly mundane but possibly heavy with disease. Alistair continued to block, easily breaking through any Dark attacks sent his way with his own Light affinity until Rowe abandoned using the affinity at all.

Rowe tried several times to attack Alistair from the back, learning fast that it was a quick way to lose when Alistair turned on a dime and struck without hesitation. Some of his attacks got through, though. Alistair’s shield was a bright yellow by the time ten minutes had passed. However, Rowe, while having taken no damage yet, was slowing, panting and stumbling as his Stamina ran low.

Rowe tripped, going down when trying to back away, and Alistair finally struck, exploding into movement as he charged. His sword crashed down with deadly accuracy. It took three hits for Rowe’s shield to go red, but the battle of attrition was finally ended with Alistair the victor.

Liliana cheered with the rest of her friends, feeling a mounting anticipation rise inside of her. She was the next of her group to fight.

Three more fights and then it would be her turn.