The tournament grounds unfurled before a throng of eager spectators, the air thick with anticipation as youthful magicians readied themselves for the impending clash. Four teams assembled, each comprised of five members: the bright-eyed high schoolers, fresh with ambition, and three senior teams—first years, second years, and third years—each tempered by experience.

Upon the coach’s platform, Zar stood resolute behind the iron grills, his gaze unwavering. The young contenders beheld him clearly, drawing courage from his steady presence as they steeled themselves for the challenge.

Among the high schoolers was Arion, bracing to confront the seasoned seniors alongside his companions. The tournament's objective was clear: to diminish the opposing teams before the true trial commenced—the unleashing of deadly creatures known as Morbax, unique to their realm. These black, venomous beasts possessed swiftness and an uncanny ability to detect the wounded, even amidst a throng. When released, the Morbax would swarm the arena, preying upon those most vulnerable. Victory would belong to the team that vanquished the greatest number of these fearsome creatures by the end. The rules were unyielding; any combatant who failed to engage in battle for more than forty seconds would face immediate elimination.

The Morbax, sturdy and resistant to the most destructive of magics, demanded more than mere strength to conquer.

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As the round commenced, the second-year team swiftly seized the advantage, bolstered by two Mentifers wielding the formidable power of telekinesis. Arion’s team, wary of these formidable abilities, maintained their distance, careful to avoid direct conflict.

“Stay focused, everyone!” Arion commanded, his voice cutting through the tumult, urging his comrades to retain their composure.

Yet, amidst the chaos, one of Arion’s teammates, Zane, succumbed to reckless fervor. Consumed by a wild energy, he unleashed energy blasts haphazardly, targeting all who crossed his path. “I can take them!” he bellowed, confidence brimming in his tone.

His reckless abandon, however, played directly into the hands of the first-year team, who had deftly orchestrated their strategy to ensnare him. As Zane charged headlong, three first-year members converged, encircling him with sinister intent.

“Gotcha!” one of them taunted, a smirk curling upon their lips as they prepared to strike.

Overmatched and outnumbered, Zane was swiftly overwhelmed, absorbing a barrage of blows until he could fight no longer—effectively casting him from the battle.

“Zane, no!” Arion cried, dread pooling in his heart.

Meanwhile, Torin, the fourth member of the first-year team, clashed with Vera, a third-year sorceress adept in the art of teleportation. She sought to tire him, dashing in and out of his reach, compelling him to expend his strength with each narrowly missed strike.

“Come on, Torin! Keep your guard up!” Vera urged, her voice resolute amidst the discord.

Yet, as her strategy appeared to bear fruit, the second-year telekinetics recognized an opening and struck. They seized Vera in mid-motion, a gleam of triumph in their eyes.

“Now!” one of the second-years shouted, emboldened by their impending victory.

Seizing the moment, Arion sprang forth, flames swirling about his fists. “I must end this!” he declared, determination echoing in his tone. He believed Torin to be too weary to counter his assault—but he was gravely mistaken.

Torin, a master of waterbending, countered with rapid precision. “You think to defeat me so easily?” he scoffed, unleashing a torrent of water-based attacks.

Arion reeled from the onslaught, each strike inflicting grievous injuries that left him reeling. “I shall not yield!” he gasped, summoning every ounce of strength to persevere through the agony.

Vera dispatched one of the second-year telekinetics with a swift, calculated strike. "Got you!" she declared, exhilaration surging through her. Yet, almost immediately, she found herself ensnared by the remaining second-years, their spells tightening the circle around her.

“Seems you've bitten off more than you can handle, teleporter,” one sneered, his gaze brimming with intent.

Perceiving her peril, two third-years, Kira and Jaxon, tore through the battlefield to her aid. “We’re here, Vera!” Kira called out, her earth magic flaring in a protective wave as she braced to shield her comrade.

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Elsewhere, amidst the clamor of clashing spells, the high schoolers passed largely unnoticed by the seniors, who deemed them too insignificant to bother with in the wake of stronger foes. Yet Draven, the seasoned leader of the third-year team and a formidable earthbender, had taken heed of them.

“Do not underestimate them,” Draven cautioned his teammates, his gaze narrowing. “They may yet prove themselves.”

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With a sharp, assessing look, he launched himself at Arion and his teammate Kade, engaging both in a one-against-two contest. Kade, all too aware of Draven’s mastery, concentrated solely on evading the earthbender's strikes. “Arion, stay moving!” he urged, his voice tight with tension.

“I’m trying!” Arion panted, each impact radiating pain as he struggled to keep up, weathering the full force of Draven’s relentless attacks.

Elsewhere in the chaotic melee, Selene and Milo, Arion’s remaining teammates, adopted a nimble hit-and-run approach. “Stick close,” Selene murmured, her eyes flitting over the scene as they sought their opportunities. Together, they darted through the fray, striking at vulnerabilities, then retreating before counterattacks could find them.

From their position, Selene and Milo took note of Arion’s faltering defense and shared a troubled look. “Something’s off with him today,” Milo remarked, concern etched across his face.

“We’ll have to stay sharp; we can’t let it pull us under,” Selene replied, her voice steely with resolve.

Meanwhile, Vera’s allies managed to free her from her confinement. But her reprieve proved brief. “I need a moment to regroup!” she called, teleporting to what she assumed to be a safe distance—only to discover the first-year team lurking in ambush.

“Surprise!” one of them crowed as they sprang upon her, executing a flawless ambush that swiftly rendered her unconscious.

Back on the field, Kira and Jaxon succeeded in felling two more of the second-years who had threatened Vera. “That’s two down!” Jaxon exulted, pumping his fist. As they regrouped, however, they observed only one telekinetic, Rian, still standing among the second-years.

Selene and Milo seized the chance to encircle Rian, bombarding him with quick, distracting blows. “Keep him off balance!” Milo shouted, weaving deftly in and out of range.

Amid the confusion, Rian’s attention faltered, leading him to lash out unintentionally at Torin, the heavy hitter of the first-year team who had already been worn down from his clash with Arion. The stray strike was enough to send Torin crashing to the ground, defeated. “What the—?” he gasped, his strength ebbing away as he fell.

Rian, now pushed to the brink of madness, felt his senses sharpen with each moment of escalating fury. In a surge of rage, he managed to seize Milo as he attempted another swift strike, delivering a punishing blow that sent Milo reeling. Rian’s anger, palpable and intense, left Selene stranded, her heart pounding in terror as she hesitated to approach him.

But fortune, as it happened, was on her side. Desperate to change the flow of the battle, all the remaining first-year members leaped at Rian together, creating a distraction that gave Selene the chance to slip away. Yet, with an unrestrained outburst of telekinetic might, Rian flung the first years to the ground, their bodies hitting the arena floor with ruthless force.

“What am I even doing?” Selene thought, a surge of despair gripping her. Her movements felt weak and unworthy, a far cry from what she imagined her mentor Zar would expect of her. Around her, the other first-years lay scattered and groaning in pain from Rian’s throw—all but one, who had managed to shield himself with shards and slipped into camouflage.

Hidden in stealth, this lone first-year seized the moment, sneaking close enough to land a strike on Rian. While the blow wasn’t enough to bring him down, it disoriented him just long enough for Selene to act. She leapt forward, her fist connecting with precise force, and this time, Rian crumpled to the ground, finally unconscious.

Their relief, however, was fleeting. Across the field, they noticed the other second-year telekinetic dominating the third-year members, still fighting as fiercely as if untouched. A ripple of shock went through the arena—how could he be standing after Vera had bested him earlier? But Selene and her first-year comrade were too exhausted to concern themselves further and collapsed to the ground.

Elsewhere, Draven, now victorious over Kade, scouted for his next formidable opponent. He spotted a group of second-year members who, though bruised and barely standing, had gathered together and were huddled in whispered plans. Driven by instinct, Draven charged at them. The second-years, sensing his approach, conjured their magic defensively, but Draven’s powerful strike sent them sprawling, further wounded.

At that very moment, the alarm sounded, a solemn herald of the Morbax’s impending release. Only a few contenders remained upright: one resilient first-year, the second-year telekinetic, and Draven himself. But all eyes were drawn to the remarkable sight of the second-year members being restored, their injuries visibly mending. A Vivimancer—a rare healer among them—had brought the other telekinetic back to strength after Vera’s previous victory.

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As the cage of the Morbax opened, Arion caught Zar’s gaze from across the field. Zar gave a subtle nod, a silent cue that the boy read with perfect understanding.

The instant the Morbax emerged, Arion unleashed his stored power. With a mighty flourish, a fireball of immense magnitude shot forth, racing toward the creatures with an unstoppable force. The blaze struck true, obliterating every last Morbax in a single, awe-inspiring flash, sealing his team’s victory in the final moments.

As the dust began to settle and the chaos faded, realization dawned upon the remaining participants, revealing the intricate brilliance of Arion’s strategy. Throughout the entire skirmish, Arion had been enduring hit after hit—not out of desperation or weakness, but as part of a meticulously crafted plan. Unbeknownst to his foes, he was steadily drawing in the ambient magic particles unleashed in the heat of battle, regardless of their origin. From each spell cast, each element manipulated, and each surge of energy unleashed, Arion had siphoned fragments of magic, weaving them into a reservoir of fire energy deep within him. His opponents, seeing him struggle and stagger under their blows, had assumed he was barely hanging on. They thought they were breaking him down, reducing him to a mere obstacle.

In truth, however, he had been using their very assaults to forge a weapon of devastating potency. Arion’s unique technique allowed him to transmute these absorbed magical energies into his own element: fire. Slowly, he cultivated this stored energy, compressing it into a single, massive fireball that would grow stronger with each particle he absorbed. His earlier acts of endurance and apparent weakness had all been part of his ruse, a carefully maintained façade to lull his opponents into a false sense of superiority.

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The arena lay steeped in murmurs and muttered discontent. All save Arion’s team and Zar appeared unsettled, unsatisfied with the abrupt end to the match. Many had anticipated a grand, fierce battle against the unleashed Morbaxes, yet it concluded in a single, decisive blow—delivered by none other than a high schooler. As Arion strode past, senior participants shot him annoyed, almost accusatory looks, as though he had wronged them by ending the spectacle so swiftly.

But Arion was unbothered by their silent judgment. Victory was all that mattered to him. He ignored their stares, his expression untouched by care or concern, and continued on with a calm, unwavering stride. Making no attempt to meet their gazes, he walked directly toward Zar.

Zar, delighted by his pupil’s triumph, greeted him with a cheerful smile. In a slightly playful tone, Arion remarked, "I may have claimed victory, yet in truth, I am defeated—do you truly believe I shall stand ready for the final round, given these wounds?"

Zar chuckled, a glint of reassurance in his eyes. "The final trial lies five days hence," he replied. "I have little doubt that you will be restored in both strength and spirit by then."