╚╩╩╩╝ Hazel ╚╩╩╩╝

Among the crowd of my peers, blending in as best as I could, I paid close attention to everyone who stepped out of the locker rooms, marking down their numbers and likenesses. It would be reckless for me to go into any kind of battle without doing proper research on possible adversaries.

Flipping the notebook in my hands to pages 198 and 204, I quickly wrote down the defining features of the students who had just stepped out into the open. Out of the 256 students taking part in the tourney, 235 had arrived. Some students stood idly by, mingling with classmates and friends, some bragged about their high chances of winning and some stood silently, watching the crowd the same as me. Of those silently watching, I picked out where Malcolm was standing, though he was staring blankly.

I’ve tried several times but, no matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t get him to take people seriously. If someone wasn’t immediately important or didn’t leave a lasting impression or grudge, he purposely forgot them.

Turning my attention back to the doors, I continued to watch as more students passed through until I had counted to 256. With all of my initial impressions and details listed for each of them, I started at page one and picked the person out from memory, analyzing what I remembered of their demeanor and attitude. I continued this all the way through to number 165.

My analysis was interrupted by a booming voice coming from the center of the coliseum. It was Amara Leonte. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to hear from the woman for much longer, but it seemed my hopes were all in vain. She had some kind of lasting grudge against Lord Claude that trickled down onto Malcolm and me, though Malcolm took the most of it on himself.

A tinge of fear appeared in my heart, thinking of how she would fix the brackets against the two of us if she had been given any responsibility over them. I hadn’t finished through my analysis yet, and many of our opponents were in the latter numbers. Though, a small part of me wished that Malcolm would lose early. I didn’t want to have to fight him. Losing like that would definitely hurt his pride, and I don’t want him to push me away.

Breathing deeply, I suppressed the rush flowing through me. This power of mine was becoming more and more difficult to suppress. Hopefully, the fighting would release some of the pressure that continually filled me. Training in my spare time had helped to do it, so I had high hopes.

Amara greeted the excited crowds, pulling all of the fanatic attention directly to herself, including that of the participants. She started to explain how the tourney would proceed, though I’d gone through the records of previous tourneys, so I already knew how the proceedings would commence.

Two battles from each of the sixteen sections would commence at a time until every section finished. Today, there would be 128 battles, tomorrow there would be 64, Wednesday would be a rest day, then Thursday there would be 48 split between the third and fourth rounds, Friday would be the fifth, sixth and semifinal rounds totaling fourteen and finally Saturday would be the final round. The final bout is best out of three, with a break between each battle.

Standing by, I half-listened to Amara speak and, sure enough, I already knew everything she explained. She then spoke out, calling forward the first sixteen that would fight. They were all the members of the first and sixteenth sections. All of them taking their positions on the eight stone platforms, each one standing a short distance from their opponent. Amara stalled for a short time, no doubt tugging at the hearts of the spectators, until she cried out for them all to start.

All at once, the participants turned and dashed away from each other, making sure to stay on their arenas as leaving it would immediately result in a loss. Lights and colors flashed to life as both Warriors and Mages summoned their auras, all of them ranging from black to indigo. Exactly fifteen seconds from when Amara called for the bouts to begin, the fighting started. This pause was a sort of handicap for Mages, as their powers took a bit longer to use than a Warriors.

Scanning each of the sixteen fighters, I made a guess as to who of them would win. I made these guesses based off of their posture, the first move that they used and their apparent skill.

This section of bouts lasted no more than five minutes, with one of them ending almost instantly as a Mage blew her opponent off of the arena with a blast of powerful wind. The person in question landed not too far from where I was standing and simply sighed before standing up and joining the other students.

One student caught another in a ring of fire and their opponent surrendered. Another student dug out the ground below a section of their arena and thinned the surface and waited until their opponent fell into their trap and forfeited. One other Warrior caught their Mage opponent and easily threw them outside of the arena, though they were cited for targeting their opponent before the fifteen second grace period had ended and were justly disqualified.

Of the battles, one in specific caught my eye. Between two Warriors, this bout lasted the longest. The two seemed to know each other and resorted to a brutal fist fight to determine who would come out victorious. Both were indigo rank, though ones aura faded before the others, allowing a direct hit without the protection of an aura. A full-powered punch from a Warrior would do a great deal of physical damage, even if the Warrior in question was a young teen, though a flash of red light blocked the attack just as a referee called the match.

Glancing down at the red line running down the uniform, I guessed that it was some kind of magical device created by the school. Seeing the victor of the match pull his friend up from the ground, I could see that the red line was gone from his clothes.

“Such a passionate battle!” Amara cried out as the two walked away together, waving to the crowds. “We’ll take a short break to repair the arenas and then begin with the next fights, so stick around!”

Any injured students were taken away, while everyone else stayed to chat while some people came out to repair the arenas which were apparently the product of a few earth type Mages. My guess was that they were students who volunteered for extra credit.

The process of filling in the hole that had been dug took longer than I had anticipated, but I appreciated the extra time to finish my notes. Within ten minutes, I was able to finish my initial notes as well as the notes from the observations I had made on the battles that had just taken place. I had to be extra ready if I were to face any of them later in the tourney.

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The next set of bouts were from sections two and fifteen. Unlike with the first and sixteenth, these two sections had nobody of note, each of them lacking any skill or talent. Despite their apparent weakness, these fights lasted just as long as the previous ones. Sighing, I still made sure to note down what I had seen. Carelessness is a deadly thing.

Sections three, four, thirteen and fourteen all completed their matches, both times somehow taking up around the same amount of time as the rest.

Finally, it was sections five and twelve.

Nervously, I watched Malcolm step onto his arena. His opponent, from what I could tell from his mannerisms, was confident in himself. I didn’t want to have to fight him, but I also didn’t want him to lose or get hurt.

Shaking my head and pinching myself on the thigh, I willed myself to focus. Distractions were a good thing, but like this. Emora was clear on that. I need to be in control.

Staring down my opponent, my mind raced through all of the information that I had gathered on him. His name was Jet. He was a commoner of no rapport and a Warrior with a purple rank aura. In that sense, we were equal, though there were other things that tipped the scales in my favor.

Standing close to each other, the boy smiled at me, but did not speak. He looked like he wanted to wish me luck. Thinking this, I frowned slightly. It felt a little cruel to utterly crush him.

╚╩╩╩╝

Amara gave the starting sign and each arena burst to life with color and movement.

Malcolm was more than prepared for his bout. He hadn’t done any sort of study on his opponent like Hazel had, but he had confidence in the skills learned from his roommate, as well as through a couple of the techniques left to him by his grandfather. Instead of watching the fights as he should have, he had his nose deep into the old journal. The page that his focus centered on contained something that his grandfather called the “Collapser.” It was a way of fighting that kept the opponents focus away from one specific weak point that, if hit hard enough, could make a full-grown man fall unconscious from the pain. The point in question was underneath the right armpit, near the bottom of the ribcage.

The hardest part of this technique, however, was a Warriors protective aura. It constantly surrounded the body and would absorb any blow he dealt. The one way to combat this, aside from breaking the aura itself, was to deal a strong enough blow elsewhere that pull more of the barrier to block it, thinning out the other areas enough to attack.

Darting away from his opponent, all of this information ran through Malcolm’s mind as he devised his plan of attack.

Once the fifteen second grace period was over, the combatants started their fight. One student, inspired by a previous fight, began littering the arena with potholes hidden underneath thin layers of concrete. Though, through a succession of blunders on their part, they managed to trip on several of them, falling to the mercy of their opponent more than once.

The thing that made some fights last so long was the stillness that filled some of the arenas. All of them waited for their opponent to make the first move, allowing them the opportunity to react. Malcolm and Hazel both stood completely still, watching their opponents. If they acted too quickly, their rivals could gain the upper hand. This moreso for Malcolm as his opponent was a Warrior.

Standing a short distance from Malcolm was a young man named Dawson. Malcolm hadn’t learned of his opponents in any way, while Hazel had taken special note of them. In her notes, he was listed as average in nearly every way. The only things about him that stood out were his purple aura and his crass language, but that wouldn’t help unless you were fighting an especially sensitive person.

The crowd sat on the edge of their seats. Nearly every other fight had ended by now, the four motionless arenas catching all of their attention.

Then, after more than three minutes of absolute stillness, someone moved. Malcolm flexed his hands and summoned a Magic Ring just in front of his left. Dawson, seeing this, started moving as well. The boy no doubt expected for Malcolm to prepare and cast a spell as quickly as he could, but he stopped, confused. This was because Malcolm kept his hand pointed at the ground.

Normally, when casting a spell, a Mage would hold it within view. This was so that they could actually see what they were writing, otherwise they could mess up and the spell would backfire. What Dawson couldn’t see, however, was that Malcolm was preparing a spell. He had practiced this with Avery on many occasions and could reliably cast one or two spells like this if he focused enough. Throwing his hand forward, Malcolm immediately cast his spell, releasing a large rush of flames that obscured him from Dawson’s view.

Reacting, the boy prepared to receive the flames, his aura focusing on the front of his body. After blocking the attack, the fire died, revealing a visible blast of wind that was quickly taking a narrow, pointed form similar to a spear. Something like this was normally easy to dodge, but it had gotten too close for him to move out of the way in time. Focusing on blocking this attack, he left himself vulnerable everywhere else. The wind spell dispersed almost immediately after it collided with the boy. Then he felt something punch through his aura to his side.

Too late to react, a rod of metal broke through his thinned aura and punched heavily into his ribs, though a flash of red light covered the area that had been hit, absorbing the damage.

A referee called the match as Malcolm’s victory as the boy pulled himself up off the ground. He mumbled something vulgar under his breath before sulking away.

He didn’t think much of it, but Malcolm’s match had drawn the attention of nearly everyone around. Many heard of the Elementalist on campus, but this was the first time they had seen one in action. The speed and efficiency of his spells astonished everyone of any skill. His ability seemed to rival that of a Sorcerer a rank higher than he was. Aside from that, the battle had truly started and ended in mere seconds and in such a flashy way that it caused two of the three remaining bouts to end as they had become distracted by what was happening, giving their opponents more than enough time to attack.

Hazel had become momentarily distracted, herself, though she was smart enough to pull her attention to her opponent in time to dodge a swift punch to her head. Jet’s fist passed by her head, grazing her ear as she spun around, kicking back and hitting the back of the boy’s knee, causing him to collapse to the ground.

Still in motion, Hazel dropped a knee onto the boys back, causing his aura to flash as it absorbed the blow. Not losing a moment, Hazel dodged slightly as Jet tried to reach back and grab her, though he had been grabbed instead. Grabbing his arm, she twisted it behind his back, steadily increasing the amount of force she was putting on it, causing Jet to cry out in pain.

An aura protected a Warrior from outward damage, but it couldn’t stop Hazel from tearing the muscles and fully dislocating his arm.

The referee responded quickly, calling Hazel as the winner of the match as the paramedics rushed out to help Jet.

Watching them leave, she felt a twinge of guilt, but quickly brushed it away, turning to see that the round had ended and that Malcolm was coming toward her.

Seeing him, Hazel’s heart fluttered, though her outward appearance hadn’t changed much. She hopped off of the platform to greet him. They both congratulated each other on their victory and left to join the spectators as the usual process of cleanup and preparation for the next set of fights started.

╚╩╩╩╝ Malcolm Kiech ╚╩╩╩╝

I felt a little bummed that I couldn’t see Hazel’s match, but it was good to know that she had won.

Relaxing, I stretched and looked up into the crowd and spotted two familiar faces. It was Lord Claude and my mother. Seeing that I was looking their way, they waved to me excitedly. They looked to be getting along well.

They looked like they were getting along maybe too well.

Narrowing my eyes, I breathed deeply, discomfort shuddering through my body.