The arena settings for today’s duels, at least, had changed from the duel Syl had taken part in against Drew Violet. Tournament standard was different from what amounted to an honor duel, and the artificial scenery was proof of that.

A magically-generated stream ran through the middle of a forest-like arena, separating it into two halves. Artificial trees that were more flux than wood provided ample cover, though Syl was sure that the cameras here wouldn’t take those as an obstruction.

This duel was being overseen by Waylan. He grinned at Syl, a bit nervously.

The two duelists started just under ten meters apart, facing each other with their FCDs in hand.

“Class 3,” the giant said. “You don’t see that here everyday.”

“I assume not… James,” Syl said. “Do you prefer that address or your circuit name? Your family name, perhaps?”

James snorted. “Polite, are we? You don’t need to call me by the clown names, either of them. Just James is enough. Though I would recommend you back out of this one.”

“Hey,” Waylan said. “There’ll be time enough to chat once the duel has started. I appreciate your concern for his safety, but we do have a schedule to stick to.”

“Yeah?” James asked, tilting his head to meet the officer’s eyes. “Even you’re saying this is acceptable? I expect better out of you, Way.”

“I’ve seen the kid move before,” Waylan replied. “It won’t be as easy a victory as you think.”

“You have a high opinion of me,” Syl said. “I’m flattered.”

James sighed. “If you say so. Medics are on standby, right? No offense, kid. Sylvester, was it?”

“Syl works.”

“Syl, then. Hey, no hard feelings about this, understand? I’m here to make sure you know what you’re getting into. Circuit’s tough, and the situations you get in because you’re a Circuit pro are tougher. Ain’t sunshine and daisies up here.”

“I’m sure of that,” Syl said pleasantly.

Waylan cleared his throat. “Anyway, since we’re already two minutes over the start line… as a regulation circuit duel, this will end when one party is incapacitated, cannot adequately continue to cast, acknowledges defeat, or suffers a technical loss by three points. Duelist Sylvester Auria. Do you accept the terms of the duel as previously stated?”

“In nomine virtutis,” Syl acknowledged.. “I accept.”

“Duelist—“

“In fide et sapientia, yeah, yeah,” James interrupted. “I also accept. Let’s get this over with.”

“We were having such a nice conversation, though,” Syl said, instinctively raising a Simple Shield with much more flux than the spell normally took, elevating the Absorption-type spell from D-class to A.

It was much less efficient than a number of other spells he could have used, but it was fast. For Syl, magic was a game of tradeoffs, and he was willing to use a clunkier spell if it meant that it could negate the lightning-fast bolts of sickly green energy that came from both of James’ FCDs.

Syl stopped maintaining the spell the moment it absorbed the flux from James’ spell.

“Offensive magic,” he said. “Flux Bolt? Are you taking this seriously?”

“At A-class,” James said, amused. “What kind of first year chooses to tank an A-class spell?”

“One who can’t tell what class it is,” Syl said, pacing back around the stream. “Or one who can block it.”

#

“What is he doing?” Lyon asked, having gotten a bye for the second round. He was watching Syl and Wildcard intently, eyes flicking between the two of them.

“They’re just… talking,” the student next to him said.

“What the hell does he have to talk about that Wildcard cares about?” Lyon frowned, remembering how Syl had found out his mission almost immediately after meeting him despite the fact that it was supposed to be one of the best-kept secrets of his family. “Does he know something Wildcard doesn’t? Why aren’t they attacking?”

The student beside him shook her head. “I don’t know, but he’s brave. I would have been a paste on the ground by now.”

#

“I’m interested in the National Circuit,” Syl said. “You chose to enter it instead of military service. You’re not even in the Reserve, right?”

Magic pattern forming. Movement, creation, destruction, perception base types—ah. A-class warp-type spell, Shadow Stride.

Instead of counter-casting the spell, which he was pretty sure was supposed to be classified, he cast a simple one of his own. Just to make it a bit more believable, he added the incantation as well.

“Aux flage!”

His pronunciation was better that time, he was pretty sure, but that was besides the point. Raised from F-class to C-class, Syl manifested multiple instances of Glimmer Spark freely in the air around him, illuminating the dark spaces that James could have teleported to with that spell.

The fourth-year laughed, his flux fizzling out as his only targets were far out of the arena. “Oh, so you aren’t just here for no reason, eh?”

“I like to think not. Now, about my question…”

“Who wouldn’t?” James asked. “You’ve got fame, riches, influence. Everything a man like me could ask for.”

“Except you’re one of a small handful who aren’t involved with the military at all,” Syl said. “Ninety-six percent of the league holds a reserve position of some kind, and that includes the people in Graduate Reserve.”

To punctuate his own sentence, he fired a spell of his own. It was no real offense—in actuality, it was the exact same spell James had used against him.

“Xyph praes,” the fourth-year snapped, a complex seven-process spell forming almost instantly.

Syl recognized the spell. Absorption and its opposite, conjuration. Movement. Reflection-type spell, Reflect Attack.

It amplified the attack as it sent the bolt flying back, but Syl had been prepared for that. His countercast was already in the process of activating when James sent it back, and the flux dissipated in midair.

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He thought he might have heard gasping from somewhere far off, but over the din of everyone else carrying out their tryouts, he couldn’t be bothered to confirm it.

#

“What the hell?” Lyon hissed. “That was tactical-class magic that Wildcard just used there, and…”

“That’s a class 3, right?” the student beside him asked, her voice just as confused as his.

“Same year as me,” Lyon said. “No prismatic affiliation, either. How is he doing that?”

“Once-in-a-generation genius?” the girl suggested flippantly. “Or he’s cheating.”

“I sure hope he’s cheating. The other possibility is too scary to consider.”

#

“Are you seriously suggesting that my talents would be better suited for the military?” James asked. His tone was jovial, but his eyes were narrowed into slits.

Syl recognized the gaze. He knew this song and dance, the careful tiptoeing around words as one tried to figure out—what does he know? And more importantly, how did the other party feel about it?

Not knowing James’ thoughts on the matter, Syl wasn’t going to commit to much either. “Many would say that it’s an honor to serve Auria against her foes, both inside and out.”

The fourth-year’s frown deepened, but he nodded. “Many would say that. This sounds like something you and I should discuss in more detail.”

That gave Syl more hints than James probably wanted to give away. He could guess as to which way the upperclassman leaned now, especially given the implication that he wanted to speak away from the plentiful cameras and other recording devices currently analyzing their duel.

“Sounds good to me,” Syl said. “Now, then—“

James blurred with speed, two separate spells activating at the same time, and Syl found himself on the back foot for the first time. He processed that they were movement-type and projection-type, respectively, which meant repositioning and an attack.

Instead of attempting to countercast magic that was nowhere near as clearly signalled as Drew Violet’s had been, Syl used his own spell, casting Flash Step twice in quick succession to move himself backwards. His back foot came up on a tree that marked the edge of the arena as red lightning crackled from James’ form and ignited the entire river, flash-boiling it and kicking up so much mud it looked like a volcanic explosion.

Syl wasn’t able to entirely avoid the devastating attack—it was simply that large. Fast-moving steam and clods of rock buffeted him. He threw up a shield instinctively, but he was hit a couple times. A loud buzzer sounded, indicating that he had lost one points. An actual solid hit would probably result in a loss by technical defeat.

“Halt!” Waylan called out from the side, his voice projecting over the arena. “James! Why are you using tactical-class offensive magic against a first-year?”

“He can take it,” James said. “Besides, I was holding back. That wouldn’t have killed him even if he didn’t move.”

“You don’t need to call an end to this,” Syl said, dusting himself off. He made a face. “You tore my uniform.”

“Are you sure?” Waylan asked. He was standing on the edge of the arena, FCD at the ready. “I have a medical team on standby, but they can’t fix dead.”

“I’m sure,” Syl said. “I trust James not to hurt me.”

More importantly, he trusted himself not to get hurt.

“Right then, newbie,” James said. “Let’s do this.”

Syl was ready for the speed the second time, having adjusted to the arena, and he deftly avoided James’ berserker rush, counter-casting his B-class wide-area termination-type spell that would have cut off Syl’s ability to move outside the bounds of it. He would have been able to break it easily, but he didn’t want to deal with what that would entail.

In return, he fired spells of his own, sticking to spells that a particularly motivated student with a large flux pool and access to private libraries should know—upcasted Flux Bolt, Earth Tremor, the like. He strayed away from annihilation-type spells, knowing that anything that involved actual matter elimination would probably be too powerful in his hands.

James was much better at dealing with spells backfiring than Drew had been. He took them in stride, often even repurposing the backfire into a flux recharge for himself.

In Syl’s estimation, the fourth-year was quite possibly a master-class magician. The official definition of that was just someone who could cast a spell of that level without exhausting more than 50% of their flux pool. Though James’ max so far had been tactical-class, he clearly wasn’t using everything he had.

That was fine by Syl. That just meant both of them were handicapping themselves.

With the frustratingly shallow pool of spells he could draw from, Syl was able to avoid taking any direct hits and even counter the majority of the wide-area ones with areas of effect larger than the arena itself, but he couldn’t stop himself from getting hit entirely. Eventually, a buzzer sounded as James scored a second technical point.

“Seriously,” Syl said drily as both of them came back to a standstill, the arena burning around them. “You’re going to ruin my entire outfit at this rate.”

He was sorely tempted to just win the duel on the spot, but unlike Drew, James wasn’t overconfident and wasn’t making any easily exploitable mistakes. James was the type of magician that would actually be valued on the battlefield, which meant he was a thinker.

That was probably also why he didn’t want to join the military.

Well, Syl had a few tricks that he could reasonably have as a merely exceptional student.

James had started conserving his flux over the course of the duel, but Syl knew that didn’t necessarily mean he was running short. They both had larger flux pools than the average student, so this could go on for a while.

Syl needed to make an impression here to ensure that he would be accepted onto the team, but he couldn’t make such a big one that he blew his cover.

He started charging a spell on one FCD, holding it out to one side.

James smirked, seeing the spell processes slowly form. “Trying not to give up the game by staying silent. Not bad, but if you’re going to be that slow, even a kid could read the spell.”

The fourth-year’s eyes weren’t on Syl’s primary FCD, though. Instead, they were on the second one, which Syl hadn’t done anything special to hide. James saw through the first layer of the feint with ease, which meant his guard would be let down. People always thought they were safe after they found the first trick.

James currently thought that Syl was going to let him cancel out his big spell—which was a simple A-class projection spell that would seek to overwhelm him with a great deal of force—and use the moment of distraction that it afforded to cast the spell currently forming in his second FCD.

He must have also figured out by now that Syl had a limited number of spell processes that he could manage at any given time in his FCDs. That meant that if James forced Syl into canceling his spells prematurely, he would cancel his efforts.

Syl saw the moment the other duelist decided his plan of action.

“Klyst flage!” James said, sharp and quick. Another strategic-class spell. A wide-area flame burst.

“Thesq praes!” Syl shouted in reply, holding up the FCD he’d hidden.

He did not cast the simple shield. His voice, after all, did nothing to help the spell along. Instead, he let the shield spell he’d been casting on the second FCD fall and cast Flash Step.

James counter-cast the shield, assuming—like he probably always did—that the spell he heard was the right one.

Syl flashed forward, avoiding the scorching heat. James wheeled, already switching gears to try blocking Syl’s A-class spell—and then, without using the FCD, Syl projected flux inside of him.

To any outsider, it would have looked like he had just cast two Flash Steps with no cooldown, which was a feat in itself. Only Syl and Bianca knew what he had truly accomplished.

Free casting couldn’t be counter-cast, and when done the right way, like he’d just done—it was nearly undetectable.

Syl moved, and James wasn’t ready in time to defend against Pulse Wave, which sent him flying backwards straight into one of the few remaining tree constructs, shattering it with the force of his impact.

A further two buzzers sounded, indicating that this counted as two points towards Syl.

James rolled to a stop, transferring his momentum to get back on his feet, but he made no move to attack.

Instead, he just stared at Syl, slack-jawed, then started laughing.

“You landed a hit on me?” he guffawed. “Really showing me my place, eh?”

“Just doing what I can,” Syl said politely.

“Oh, stop it with the modesty. Waylan!”

“Yeah?” Waylan asked. He had a white-knuckle grip on his own FCD, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice.

“This duel is over. If this kid doesn’t get put on the team, you have my resignation.”

“Oh,” Waylan said. “Uh. Alright. That… concludes the duel, I guess?”

Syl saluted. “Thank you for giving me that victory.”

That trick wouldn’t work twice in a row. Without using his full set of powers, Syl probably would have actually lost that.

“Pay me back by coming with me after school some time,” James said. “I look forward to seeing you around.”

“You too,” Syl said honestly.

#

Lyon looked at the dueling arena in horror.

James was his cousin, a few times removed. He’d grown up hearing stories about the Rokho. Lyon was the youngest to master the Red family’s signature Phoenix Blade—except for James. Lyon had been the second best swordsman for his age at any given time during his life—just behind James.

And he’d forfeited? Moreover, he’d been hit.

“What the hell…” he whispered to himself. “Who are you, Sylvester Auria?”

#

“So,” Syl said to Bianca, aware that the entire room had fallen quiet and were mostly looking at him. “I think I’m on the team.”