Trey smiled as he approached them. He had changed his attire to something simpler, and instead of the wooden sword he was using earlier, his weapon had changed to that of a proper sword. The flowing patterns painted on the sheath intrigued Ria. It looked familiar to her but she couldn’t tell why or what it was.

“You got here quickly.”

“Yeah, well. I just came to get my things and hurried here.”

Trey then occupied a seat next to Jenyx.

“Who’s your friend there? Wanna introduce me?”

“Already did.”

“Oh, well then. Hahaha, nice to meet you.”

Trey extended his hand towards her. Ria gracefully shook his hand with a smile.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Riandra Zistara.”

“Zistara? The Zistara?”

“Yes. I am the first daughter of Marquis Rommard Zistara.”

“Oh, wow. I never thought you’d have friends from high places, dude.”

“She’s a friend of a friend.”

“Ahh, I see.”

("He was certainly a talkative one. It was as if the seriousness he had earlier during the match was all a lie.") Ria couldn't help but think that perhaps he was one of those who become an entirely different person when it comes to the battlefield.

“If you don’t mind me asking, are you a part of the Ganya kingdom’s clan of magi-smiths?”

Though the crowd’s moderately loud cacophony filled the stadium, Ria decided to speak in a quiet, subdued voice. An abrupt silence enveloped the space as Ria asked her question. The swordsman that felled his mighty adversary in one blow had resurfaced in front of her, directing the very same steely glare that now haunts a former classmate, towards her.

(“Looks like I was right...”)

Trey’s shift in attitude came as no surprise to her as the matter was simply that much of import. Especially when one takes into account that the two kingdoms were currently at odds with each other.

“I apologize. If you don’t wish to speak about it, I won’t pursue the matter any further.”

“Ah. No no, I was just… a little surprised. But, I guess that’s what you’d expect from someone in a well-known family, huh? Hahaha.”

His demeanor swiftly switched back to normal in a matter of moments. Or so it seemed.

“Well, as you’ve suspected, I am-- No, I was once a part of the clan you speak of. However, a few years ago, my family relocated here, in Visterga. We no longer hold any connection to them, save for our surname.”

“Hm, I see.”

“Just to let you know, we went through the proper channels and process when we migrated here, ok?”

“Please don’t worry. I was merely curious about your connection when I heard your name. As far as I’m concerned, you are all citizens of our kingdom. I swear upon my family name that we shall do you no harm, so long as you follow our laws.”

Ria returned his gaze as she spoke.

“That’s a relief to hear.”

After a brief moment of silence, Trey's face loosened up as he replied.

“The match is beginning.”

Jenyx’s voice found its way to the two, urging them to cast their eyes below.

“Oh, you’re right. Hm? Hey, that guy looks really familiar…”

“Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He’s a part of our class and quite a famous one too.”

“No no, I meant–”

!!

Countless shards of ice were suddenly flung from a newly-formed magic circle on a contestant’s hand, only to be mercilessly melted as it came in contact with a flaming wall that emerged in front of their target. The surprised referee immediately yelled at the two to cease, but to no avail. Ironically, the one absolutely fuming with anger was the student that used ice magic, while the student that raised the flaming wall stood calmly behind it. No, to say that he was entirely calm in the situation was wrong. He may not show it, but his intent was made clear with his incensed glare.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

**

*A few minutes earlier*

“You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”

The two final combatants of the Magic Combat Simulation event stood parallel to one another. To the right, a student of class A, Monzo Abnus, stood confidently with a twisted smile as he peered at his opponent’s features. Cerdyne simply observed him with an indifferent expression.

“...”

“You... can it be..? You don’t know me!?”

“Am I supposed to know?”

“Ha... hahahahaha, I guess it doesn’t really matter if you don’t know me. All that matters is you remember the name Marco Abnus.”

“...Who?”

Perhaps it was due to the nonchalant demeanor his opponent posed towards him or because he claimed to not remember the name of Monzo’s brother who was currently resting for an indefinite period of time at their home, or maybe it was both. But after hearing his reply, Monzo’s face warped into a reflection of pure anger, enough to make anyone question his sanity. Faint points of blue light formed at the tip of his hand, connecting with one another to form a small, intricately-designed circle.

“I see. Then, die!!”

The spell Icicle blast activated as he pointed the circle towards his opponent, hurtling countless fragments of pointed ice in his direction. However, the icicles were quickly proven useless as a curtain of flames burst forth in front of them, turning the icicles into harmless plumes of mist.

“O-oi! The match hasn’t started yet! Stop this at-- Guh!?”

A rush of freezing wind pricked the referee’s face as he jumped away from the contestants. Though he was a referee, he was also a professor and a seasoned mage. Yet, the casting speed of the student caught him off-guard, resulting in him nearly being seized by the rapidly invading ice which sought to cover every corner of the stage. Once at a safe distance, the referee turned a concerned look towards the other student. In order to avoid the approaching ice, the student had jumped quite a distance into the air. The referee observed traces of smoke vanishing near the student’s hands. Though he was relieved by the student’s escape, the situation was still critical. Judging by the erratic behavior the ice-mage student was displaying, they may have to interfere to avoid endangering a student’s life. They could not afford to waste any time. And so, the referee rushed to exit the barrier. But as he ran, he felt a scorching wave of hot air gushing from behind as two large, sphere-shaped craters suddenly formed on the stage.

(“Have they gone mad!?”)

Whatever it is the student casted, the spell’s destructive force had nearly annihilated the stage. He was entirely convinced now. The two were out to kill each other. As the organizers, and the people the students' parents put their trust on, they had to de-escalate the situation regardless of the means before the worst would come to pass. Though he thought that, the referee’s heart trembled at the thought of such lethal amounts of mana being unleashed towards a fellow human being. He prepared himself for the worst. A huge amount of smoke had shrouded the stage following the attack. It filled the hearts of both the referee's and the spectators' with anxiety as they pondered the fate of the student unlucky enough to be on the receiving end. But as the smoke cleared, a dome made of transparent ice was unveiled, having withstood the fiery assault from above. He was grateful to the Gods as neither were hurt from the clash. However, that may not be the case moments from now.

“T-this cannot go on! If they keep releasing spells of that magnitude, the barrier won’t hold! Worse, they might die!”

The referee desperately pleaded with his fellow professor to intervene. This was no longer something that could be considered an exhibition match between fellow students. It was now a full-fledged battle between two mages. The two students clearly didn't care whether or not their opponent would still be alive after the fight.

“We can’t… Mothleu...”

“What? What do you mean we can’t?”

His grip on the other professor’s clothes tightened in response.

“The Headmaster forbade us from interfering with the match…”

Professor Mothleu's colleague barely managed to eke out the sentence as he was being choked. Words alone could not express the shock that the referee received upon hearing his colleague’s reply.

“H-has the Headmaster gone mad!?”

He could not help but yell what was on his mind. The Headmaster’s order made no sense. It was as if they were completely content with disregarding the students’ lives.

“Watch your mouth, Professor.”

Behind them, four people emerged from the entrance which led to the stage. The gruff voice belonged to a buff man with a scar racing from his cheek, down to the base of his neck. Professor Mothleu turned pale as the four people stood in close proximity with them. Of all the professors in the institution, these four were unmistakably the most formidable and most well-regarded of them all. The pressure of being in their presence was disconcerting to say the least, and it didn’t help that one of them held an emotion akin to hostility towards him.

“I-I am terribly sorry… h-however, something must be done with those two!”

“What do you think we’re here for? You there! Don’t go around spreading such misleading things! The Headmaster simply instructed you all not to intervene as we were sent to deal with the matter. Now move!”

The two profusely apologized as they opened the way for the four people approaching the stage.

“You didn’t have to scold them like that, Professor Ageius.”

“What’s that, Professor Sillia? You would condone them badmouthing our esteemed Headmaster?”

“I didn’t say that. Professor Mothleu was simply worried about the students’ well-being. It was just a slip of the tongue.”

“Hmph, no matter the circumstances, I will not allow anyone to slander the Headmaster!”

“We don’t have time for this, you two.”

The elderly professor who led the way, spoke to the two bickering behind him. Though he wore the same robes as the three, his hunched back and tottering steps could have him easily mistaken for a weak geezer who barely got off the bed. Such notions couldn't be any further from the truth.

“Instead of wasting your energy on such petty affairs, watch those students carefully. We absolutely cannot misjudge the situation and our timing.”

The two exchanged glances for a brief moment, sizing up one another's intentions, but ultimately deciding to quietly follow the elderly professor.

"Resolve your petty squabbles in your own time. We have work to do."