By the time class ended, Kor felt like a wilted plant—listless, drained, and desperate for even a spark of improvement. His final mana sphere attempt in the training field had fizzled out of control, and he’d trudged away, shoulders heavy under the weight of expectation. Most of Marcus’s friends had simply averted their eyes at his performance, their disinterest stinging more than outright criticism. Kor had agreed to lend Marcus his support here at Conflux Academy, and now every failure felt like a breach of that promise.
Marcus, however, seemed entirely unbothered. Before heading back toward their dorms, he’d nudged Kor with a friendly elbow.
“Hey, don’t sweat it,” Marcus had said, the blue in his eyes shining with that unflappable confidence. “I still think you’ll be an asset to the team. We’re training over the weekend—come join us. It’ll be a good chance to sharpen your skills.”
Kor had nodded, heart tightening. Private training would undoubtedly highlight his weaknesses, but perhaps it might also be just what he needed to improve. Everything seemed to vie for his ever-dwindling time, from studying and practice to picking his electives. Even the Logos or the whispering voice from his childhood weighed heavily on him. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he had said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Despite his exhaustion, Kor managed to stay awake past midnight, scribbling notes and conjuring sphere after sphere. Each attempt demanded more effort, and soon, even forming a basic sphere proved too much. His vision blurred, and his mind felt like it had run a marathon. Whatever internal muscle channelled his mana felt utterly fried. Finally, he called it for the night, collapsing onto his bed with a groan. Before drifting into an uneasy sleep, he carefully set his alarm clock across the room beside Talen’s crystal palm tree—a trick he’d heard somewhere. If the clock was out of reach, he’d have no choice but to drag himself off the mattress to silence it.
The next morning, that strategy proved almost too effective. The alarm’s shrill buzz ricocheted off the walls, and Kor groaned as he forced his eyes open. He swung his legs out of bed, nearly tripping over another plant pot, and shuffled across the room to shut the cursed thing off. A soft chime of mana-tinged wind from the palm’s translucent leaves greeted him, their subtle glow reflecting the morning light.
He slammed the clock into silence, leaning heavily against the nearby desk. “I swear that alarm’s more brutal every day,” he muttered.
Behind him, Talen’s gentle laugh drifted over the rhythmic hiss of a mana mister. “Now I see why you put it way over there,” he teased, not bothering to look up from the cluster of leafy vines he was tending. “You certainly made sure you wouldn’t stay in bed.”
“I need more hours in the day,” Kor grumbled, rubbing his neck.
Talen swivelled, face bright with morning cheer. “Well, good news. I’ve already watered the rest of the room’s jungle. Your alarm clock even got the crystal palm quivering with excitement,” he said, gesturing to the shimmering leaves.
Kor cracked a tired grin. “I’m glad at least someone’s enjoying this.” Through bleary eyes, he glanced at the clock’s blinking digits and sighed. “Anyway, I want to squeeze in some mana practice before we head out. Figure if I don’t do it now, it won’t get done.”
Talen stood upright, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Go for it. You’ve come a long way from the walking mana-hazard I met on the first day.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Kor said dryly, but his lips twitched with amusement.
He perched on the edge of his bed, heart still fluttering from the jolt of the alarm. Slowly, he closed his eyes. As he inhaled, he felt the ambient energy of the room swirl around him—tiny sparks dancing along the edges of his awareness. He exhaled, focusing on guiding mana into yet another sphere above his hand. Talen’s muffled hum continued as he tended his plants, a simple reminder that life flourished under the right care.
Kor’s chest rose and fell in a calm rhythm. Even if his mana shaping still felt clumsy, he refused to give up. With each controlled breath, he sensed a whisper of possibility that maybe, just maybe, today he’d shape something more potent enough to fight with. And with his promise to Marcus ringing in the back of his mind, Kor resolved to keep pushing—no matter how small each victory might be.
Later that morning, the two of them headed out across campus, but they weren’t alone. A stream of students flowed in the same direction, their chatter filling the air with a lively hum. Kor even spotted second and third-year students among their number, a rare sight on campus.
He’d recently learned why. Starting from the second year, students took up residence inside the towering spires that loomed over the campus. The top floors housed the most prestigious and accomplished wizards—heads of faculty, visiting dignitaries, and other powerful figures. Further down, the spires were home to professors, research fellows, and the second- and third-year students. Supposedly, many of the classrooms were also in the spires, but Kor found himself grateful to still be a first-year. The idea of climbing up and down those towers every day didn’t appeal in the slightest.
As they walked, the din of excited students washed over them. Above it all, the Nexus glowed a deep green at the centre of Conflux, towering above every other structure and feeding the barrier overhead with a steady geyser of mana. Kor’s gaze lingered on it, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“Talen, what exactly goes on in the Nexus anyway?”
His friend shot him an amused look. “It powers the barrier, for one, and it’s where the First Magus resides.”
“Just him?” Kor prodded.
“No, I believe the Voidguard also operates from the Nexus. No telling what would happen to the city if the Nexus itself were breached.”
Kor nodded as they were swept along. In all his focus on studying, he hadn’t had the chance to explore much of the campus or truly appreciate the greater city of Conflux. As students, they were expected to stay on campus at all times, though he hoped his full three years here wouldn’t be so restrictive.
The casual displays of magic that had once overwhelmed his senses had begun to fade into normality. He’d even grown accustomed to the mana-filled air, its faint buzz now a part of everyday life.
After nearly a quarter of an hour, a large dome-shaped building came into view. Its broad, low profile contrasted sharply with the towering spires behind them.
They joined the queue of students waiting outside. The line stretched across the grounds, a mix of first-years like Kor and older students, their chatter animated as they discussed the duel. Kor’s eyes followed the wall extending out from Crux Basin.
“Is that the edge of campus?”
Talen nodded. “It is. You’ll need to reach second year or earn a professor’s favour if you want to visit Conflux City itself.”
Kor looked past the wall to the city towering beyond. Why were they being so tightly corralled? It wasn’t as if they could just run away—even the portal back to their homeworlds was on campus, opening to each world only once a week. His thoughts were interrupted by the lively chatter around him.
“Tharos is going to crush Eliventa,” one student said confidently.
“Are you kidding?” another shot back. “Eliventa’s spirit sentinel is strong enough to give the professors pause.”
“As if. Besides, she’ll be at a disadvantage here at Crux.”
Kor frowned at the mention of the disadvantage, but before he could turn to ask Talen, the crowd surged forward, sweeping them along into the dome.
They followed the path down to the arena, the way lit by purple-flamed sconces. The eerie light flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows that lent the setting an air of tension. They emerged into the open air of the underground, the crowd’s collective murmur rising like a distant tide. Bowl-shaped and massive, it could hold thousands of spectators—and nearly all of them seemed to be here today.
Kor’s pulse quickened. The stadium itself looked ancient, hewn from dark stone that filled the underground basin. Towering arches soared above the rows of seats, each carved with a mastery that hinted at centuries of magical tradition. But it was the arena floor that truly seized his attention.
A steep drop, a thirty-foot plunge into golden sands. And at the centre stood a monstrosity of obsidian crystal—its jagged edges jutting upward like broken teeth. Kor felt a tug at his mana sense, as though every stray particle of energy was being pulled to that inky shard. It didn’t radiate power; it devoured it. The sight made his stomach flip.
“That’s the Voidshard,” Talen said quietly, stepping up beside him.
His chest tightened as he stared at the enigmatic shard, its inky surface swallowing light and magic alike. Around him, a few other students had also stopped, their expressions mirroring his awe. Talen tugged him aside gently.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Talen said, his tone carrying a mixture of reverence and amusement.
Kor nodded, unable to tear his gaze from the Voidshard. “What would you say if I told you it’s only the tip?”
Kor turned to his friend, his eyes wide.
Talen nodded. “They say the crystal’s as big as the Nexus itself - like a massive iceberg hidden underground. It drains magic like a thirsty sponge.”
“Then why hold the duel here?” Kor asked. “Doesn’t it make spellcasting difficult?”
“Yes,” Talen said, watching people fill the seats. “But it mostly just affects active spells, not someone’s personal magic reserves. That’s why Eliventa’s at a disadvantage - her spirit sentinel needs constant magical energy.”
Talen gestured for them to find seats. “Come on, let’s grab a spot before all the good ones are taken.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
As they found a seat halfway down, Talen continued, “Just goes to show how strong Eliventa is. The final tournament for the first years is held here, and she graduated with the same credits as Tharos.”
“How many credits did they finish with?” Kor asked as they sat.
“Not sure, but I’ve heard a few people say just shy of a thousand,” Talen replied.
“Divide me sideways,” Kor thought. Each class was only worth a hundred points, meaning they must have completed about ten classes each. He was definitely missing something.
As the bubbling anticipation of the crowd rose around them, Kor’s name was suddenly called. He looked around in confusion until he spotted Viree a few rows over, giving him an emphatic wave. Blushing, he stood to wave back, seeing her cheerful smile in response before she turned to chat with the girl next to her.
Taking his seat again, cheeks still heated, Kor noticed Talen watching him with a suggestive smile.
“Is that the study partner you were talking about?” Talen asked.
“Uh, what? No, no. Lena is my study partner.”
“Another girl? You really are a ladies’ man, Kor. Never would have guessed.”
Fighting to keep his blush away, Kor muttered, “No, Viree accidentally clobbered me with a mana sphere the other day. She’s just being friendly.”
“Oh really?” Talen’s grin spread across his face.
Kor shoved his friend lightly, eager to change the subject. “So why house the tournament beside a giant mana-sucking crystal? Doesn’t seem like the most logical place to me.”
“You’d think so, right?” Talen said. “But the founders of Conflux found a way to harness the crystal to form an unassailable barrier. Rumour has it that it’s stronger than the Nexus barrier, just much smaller.”
“Look,” Talen gestured. “You can see the shimmer of black energy flickering above the arena.”
Kor squinted, adjusting his glasses. He pushed his magical senses to their limit, focusing intently. After a moment, he caught the faintest flicker of something above the arena.
“I think I see it!” Kor exclaimed.
“Hah, all that practice must be paying off,” Talen said, clapping him on the shoulder. “All the big matches happen here. It’s the only way to keep everyone safe. Besides, I doubt even the First Magus could overcome the Voidshard’s pull.”
The seats continued to fill, students from every year seated together as they readied themselves. The anticipation was palpable, the hum of magic mingling with the chatter of voices. Kor leaned forward slightly, his eyes scanning the arena below.
A brief wait later and a resonant chime silenced the crowd. Two figures emerged onto the sands, taking positions a hundred feet apart with the Voidshard between them. A voice thundered through the arena.
“Welcome to today’s duel!” The announcer boomed. “From our talented first-years, please welcome Tharos of Solaria and Eliventa of Mysthaven - both graduating from their first year and tied for third place!”
The crowd roared. Kor’s heart skipped as he took in the scene before him, the thunderous applause seeming to physically press against his chest. The duel wasn’t just a spectacle—it was a glimpse into what the best of them could achieve. Their precise movements and fluid grace spoke of years of refined training, of childhoods spent in grand academies rather than dusty libraries. Despite his usual swagger, a whisper of doubt crept in as he watched them take their positions, their very bearing radiating an easy confidence that came from never having to question their place here. He clenched his fist, feeling simultaneously drawn to and daunted by the power on display—a power that seemed to belong to a different realm entirely from his meagre beginnings.
“Neither competitor was satisfied sharing that share position,” the announcer continued, voice rich with amusement. “And now they’ll settle more than personal pride - this is Solaria versus Mysthaven, the rising flame against the weight of tradition!” The crowd roared again, but Kor frowned slightly. There’d been no mention of the types of magic they’d be using. It seemed to be part of some unspoken magical courtesy.
The announcer’s voice rose above the noise. “The rules are simple: single touch knockout! If a student’s barrier lights up, they lose. Now, without further ado, let the match commence!”
The arena’s protective barrier grew stronger at the announcement but remained crystal-clear. Kor leaned forward as the starting chime rang out.
Eliventa moved first, summoning her Spirit Sentinel. The air shimmered beside her as a towering figure coalesced, over twelve feet tall. The sentinel, draped in flowing silver robes, radiated an ethereal glow that Kor could see even through his limited magical sight. Its long limbs moved with an otherworldly grace as it brought a massive halberd into a ready stance.
Eliventa wasted no time beginning another spell as Tharos darted across the sands, his second-year robes fluttering behind him. The air shimmered faintly around him as he cast on the move, circling around the Voidshard to close the distance.
“Aren’t they going to summon barriers?” Kor asked, his brow furrowed.
“They already have,” Talen replied. “It’s a mark of their skill that they aren’t visible.”
Tharos vanished behind the towering crystal, only to reappear at its edge with lightning speed. One arm lashed out—a ripple of pure force shimmered in its wake.
Eliventa’s Spirit Sentinel moved like a living mist. Despite its colossal size and the halberd clutched in its spectral hands, it flowed between Eliventa and the attack. Metal clashed against magic, a crackling boom splitting the hush of the crowd.
The Sentinel’s mana aura rippled under the assault, bending inward but refusing to break. Inch by inch, it pressed forward. Its halberd, still locked against the shimmering wave, glowed bright enough that Kor had to squint. For a second, he thought the wave might snap the Sentinel’s form entirely—but then the spirit surged, flinging the force aside in a burst of scattered light.
“Vibration mage,” Talen said, his tone calm despite the chaos unfolding below.
Each impact from Tharos’ shimmering waves shook the sentinel, but failed to halt its advance.
Eliventa finished her previous cast, seemingly to no effect before conjuring small, glowing stars of condensed mana. She loosed them toward Tharos, slow-moving but persistent, forcing him to weave aside, keeping the Spirit Sentinel between him and Eliventa.
“Smart,” Talen remarked. “Harder to hit if she has to guide her attacks around.”
For a brief moment, he noticed the faint pull of mana blurring the edges of the Spirit Sentinel; the Voidshard was already pulling at the fabric of its mana, but not enough to stop it.
The Spirit Sentinel attacked with crushing force – its halberd strike so powerful that Kor winced. The blade crashed against Tharos’ barrier with a sharp crack. He rolled away from a second blow, but one of Eliventa’s stars found its mark, making the crack spider further across his shield.
Tharos brushed off the star’s collision, darting under another sweep of the halberd, his movements fluid and precise as the Spirit Sentinel’s attack just missed him. With a sharp pivot, he landed inside the spirit’s reach, his arms swelling with concentrated mana. With a thunderous clap of his hands, the gathered energy erupted, sending a shockwave through the ground. The sands beneath the sentinel exploded outward, a massive cloud of dust surging into the air and obscuring the arena floor in a billowing haze.
“What was that?” Kor pressed, eyes wide.
“I think he exploded the sands,” Talen said, his own gaze fixed on the scene.
A breath later, the air shimmered with another wave of force. Eliventa’s shield flickered into view, its edges burning brightly before spiderweb cracks began to spread. Through the haze, Tharos stood with arms outstretched, channelling unrelenting vibration magic.
Kor’s heart pounded. If that barrier gave out, Eliventa was finished.
But she refused to yield. Even as her mana shield fractured, her hands moved in fluid, practiced motions.
In a swirl of glowing motes, a squat, round creature emerged: a mana-frog. Its bulbous eyes glowed with raw energy as it slid into the path of Tharos’s attack. The arena erupted in gasps. Layers of shimmering magic danced across the frog’s slick hide, devouring each wave of force with a low, resonant hum. It stood firm, impossibly steady.
Kor realised she was buying precious seconds—seconds to conjure something else?
“How is it still holding?” he wondered aloud. Talen chuckled softly. “Summoners like her excel at creating guardians that endure. She just needs a few seconds, and this little guy is buying her every one of them.” It bought Eliventa just enough time to recover, her hands weaving intricate patterns of mana. Kor watched as Tharos finally gave up the assault on the creature, darting around it with renewed aggression.
But as Tharos closed in, his foot struck something in the sands, triggering a latent spell. A sudden burst of mana erupted, glowing glyphs flaring to life beneath him. Chains of light sprang from the ground, latching onto his arms and holding him fast. Kor’s eyes widened in astonishment. When had she managed to cast that? He hadn’t noticed anything, even while she had been preparing earlier. Perhaps that explained why she had barely moved from her position since the duel began.
Eliventa’s barrier flickered out, dissolving around her like shattered glass. A bold gamble. Every ounce of mana she had left poured into a single conjuration—an enormous star that blazed white hot in her hands.
Tharos, still shackled by the last chain, roared. He unleashed a shockwave, shattering sand in every direction and freeing one arm. But it wasn’t enough. The star was already in motion, streaking across the arena with a searing glow.
Kor held his breath. He could feel the raw potency swirling around Eliventa’s spell, even from the stands. Tharos threw his mana into his shield, a golden film snapping into place. For a heartbeat, it held. Then star met barrier—
And the world went white.
Light erupted in a tidal wave, swallowing up Tharos, Eliventa, and the Voidshard alike. The roar of magic slammed Kor’s senses, and for an instant, nothing else existed. Kor blinked rapidly, spots dancing in his vision. His ears rang from the shockwave, but the sight of Tharos’s broken shield told him all he needed to know. Only his student barrier had saved him, flashing yellow and signalling the end.
The crowd erupted in wild cheers, their voices a deafening roar as Eliventa stood victorious, her various summons nowhere to be seen.
They stood with the rest of the crowd, applause roaring through the arena as the announcer’s voice rang out, clear and resonant. “Eliventa wins! What an extraordinary display of tactics and precision,” he declared, his tone charged with excitement. “Though one has to wonder if this will truly put an end to their feud. Judging by Tharos’ reaction, I wouldn’t bet on it!”
Eliventa was already leaving the arena, her stride steady despite the exhaustion etched into her movements. In contrast, Tharos remained slumped in the sand, pounding his fists in frustration, his head bowed low.
“Wow,” Kor muttered, adjusting his glasses. He genuinely thought Eliventa was at a disadvantage based on what the other students had said, but she had pulled through spectacularly in the end.
Her finale played on repeat in his mind, the deft manoeuvres and the clever placement of her trap. “That was awesome,” he said aloud, a note of awe in his voice.
“Yeah, a good fight,” Talen agreed, leaning slightly on the railing as Kor continued.
“She guided him into that trap so skilfully. I didn’t know that a summoner could be so versatile.”
“Archetypes are really just broad guidelines,” Talen explained. “They point to a caster’s core magic style, but not everyone fits neatly into those buckets. If I had to guess, her magic was based on spirits, but those stars she fired off hint at something more layered.”
Kor nodded. “Did you see how she dropped her shield right as she cast her final attack? I think she was running on fumes at the end there.”
“You’re probably right. If Tharos had wanted to win at any cost, dragging the fight out would’ve been smarter. Not that there’s much honour in that kind of victory,” Talen replied.
Kor cocked his head at Talen’s remark. “Does it matter as long as you win?”
“For Solarians, it certainly does. Their whole ethos revolves around showing their supremacy. Winning by anything other than a dominant display isn’t considered true victory in their eyes.” Talen said, the fading applause punctuating his words. The crowd began departing, the energy in the air giving way to the hum of casual conversations.
“Still,” Kor said, “she definitely played that fight well. Planting that trap and guiding him toward it—it was brilliant. I’m just not sure if it was talent or luck in the end.”
Talen shrugged. “Could be a mix of both.”
As the surrounding crowds filtered out of the stands, they joined the flow. Kor trailed in Talen’s wake, his thoughts swirling. In Lexica, the concept of honour felt like an archaic relic, something better left in the history books. To him, it seemed like a limitation, an unnecessary constraint that could squander a tactical advantage.
If he had been in Tharos’ place, Kor was sure he would have done the unpopular thing and played for time. A dishonourable victory was surely preferable to a resounding loss.
Either way, the outing had been an eye-opening experience. This was the peak of what first-years could achieve, the level he’d need to match—no, surpass—by the end of the year. The speed and finesse of their spells, the specialised techniques, and the careful tactics they employed were all variables worth remembering. It wasn’t just about raw power; strategy and adaptability were just as critical.
As they stepped into the sunlight outside the arena, Kor tightened his grip on his satchel. There was so much to learn, and so little time. He hadn’t expected just how competitive he would get coming to Conflux; he’d always aspired to be the best, but since coming here, something about witnessing all these accomplished spellcasters lit a fire under him like never before.