The others chuckled as the atmosphere in the arena buzzed with growing anticipation. Then, a hush began to settle over the spectators as someone familiar stepped out onto the training floor.

  It was Professor Rhea.

  Cd in her usual fitted leather armor, she moved with the casual grace of someone who knew how to fight—and win. Her long red hair was braided tightly down her back, swaying slightly with each step like a whip waiting to strike. Fiery amber eyes scanned the arena, sharp and intense, daring anyone to question her authority.

  Her build was impossible not to notice: toned, muscur, and undeniably curvy. Every step she took carried the weight of power and confidence. Despite her youthful face—still strikingly beautiful—her presence gave off a seasoned warrior’s aura, one that said she didn’t just teach combat… she lived it.

  Oliver’s eyes widened. “The referee is Professor Rhea!?”

  But before anyone could respond, Professor Rhea’s voice rang out across the arena, loud and clear. “Now, I know I don’t usually lower myself to judging matches below fourth-year level…” she said with a dramatic sigh, pausing just long enough to smirk, “but today I’m making a special exception—because one of the participants is my cute little brother.”

  A collective murmur rippled through the stands as all eyes darted toward the third-year team. Sure enough, one of the boys—a tall, broad-shouldered student with dark hair—suddenly turned beet red.

  “Rhea! Just start the match already!” he barked, his voice cracking with embarrassment.

  “Oh my, getting shy again?” Professor Rhea teased, resting a hand on her hip. “That’s what I love about you. So adorable!”

  The third-year boy groaned audibly, dragging a hand down his face, while his teammates tried and failed to stifle their ughter.

  Clearing her throat, Professor Rhea finally moved on, raising her voice again for the crowd.

  “Today, we’ll be having five matches between the teams Dream Team and Red Dragon! And before anyone asks—no, this isn’t a best-of-five. All five matches will be fought regardless of the outcome.”

  She turned slightly, gesturing to the team on the left. “Representing the Dream Team, we have first-years: Christopher Lightwatch, Ravyn Albright, Kael Varn, and Daniel Rooks!”

  Cheers erupted from the stands—not as thunderous as what a packed tournament would offer, but enough to stir the air with excitement.

  “Go Christopher!” Celica shouted with both hands cupped around her mouth, her eyes sparkling. “You’ve got this!!”

  “Try not to trip over your sword, Daniel!” Oliver yelled, earning a nudge from Ethan.

  “Show them what first-years are made of!” Misha added, cpping.

  Ethan simply smirked and raised a hand. “No pressure, Dream Team! But we’re all watching!”

  Anya joined in with a ugh, “Don’t hold back just ‘cause they’re older!”

  Down in the arena, Daniel grinned sheepishly and gave a thumbs-up, while Christopher offered a polite nod toward the stands—his usual calm and composed demeanor never faltering, despite the noise.

  Then Professor Rhea pivoted to the opposite team. “And facing them—our prideful uppercssmen, the Red Dragon team! Made up of third-years: Jared Vexwood, Mar Vex, Orrin Graycliff, and... my adorable little brother, Stefan Lorne.”

  A round of surprised ughter broke out in the stands. Stefan, already bracing himself, visibly flinched and buried his face in one hand.

  “Rhea!” he hissed. “Could you not?”

  Professor Rhea just grinned like a fox. “Aww, don’t be like that, Stef! You know I only embarrass you because I care!”

  "Then stop caring!" was what Stefan wanted to shout. The words burned on the tip of his tongue, but he clenched his jaw and bit them back. Experience had taught him that the more he pushed back, the more fuel he gave her teasing fire. The best move now was silence—grit his teeth and endure.

  Professor Rhea raised an eyebrow, noting his tight-lipped expression. Her grin softened just a bit, a mix of disappointment and pride flickering in her fiery amber eyes.

  “Well, would you look at that? My little brother’s finally learning restraint.” She winked pyfully. “Good. I was starting to worry you’d never mature.”

  Stefan exhaled slowly through his nose, doing his best to ignore the chuckles from both sides of the arena.

  “Now then!” Professor Rhea continued, raising her voice so everyone in the stands could hear clearly. “Here are the rules: this will be a simuted battle using standard academy safety enchantments. Pain will be dulled to fifty percent—the same threshold used in official tournaments. You’ll still feel the hits, so don’t go in expecting tickles.”

  There was a tense hush as she paced a few steps across the arena floor, the tip of her sword tapping against her boot with each step.

  “Because these matches involves first-years, spell usage will be limited to first-grade magic only. As for skills, you’re limited to Accelerate, Power Strike, and Deflection—no exceptions.”

  She turned, leveling a serious gaze at both teams.

  “Each side has a designated leader,” Professor Rhea announced, her voice ringing clearly through the arena. “If your leader is taken down, your team loses—regardless of how many members are still standing.”

  She gestured toward both teams, then added, “To make it obvious, leaders are marked with headbands. So if you're unsure who to protect—or who to target—just look for the headband.”

  She gave them a second for that to sink in before continuing.

  “The second win condition is to destroy all four of your opponent’s fgs. Each team has four, and you can pce them however you like within your territory. But I see you are already done preparing, so let's skip to the next condition.”

  “The third and final way to win,” she said, raising a finger, “is by surviving the clock. The match will st five minutes. When time’s up, the team with the most fgs still standing wins.”

  She paused, then added with a shrug, “This is the most common way matches end, honestly. A bit boring in my opinion—but hey, we can’t have you fighting forever, right?”

  Laughter rippled through the stands at her remark, breaking the tension just a bit. Even some of the participants cracked a grin.

  She looked between both sides. “If you have questions, now’s the time. Raise your hand.”

  Silence.

  “Good,” Professor Rhea said, fshing a grin. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

  The fgs had been set, the leaders had been chosen, all that was left now was the final count down.

  She raised her hand and began.

  “Five…”

  The air thickened with tension.

  “Four…”

  Ethan leaned forward in his seat.

  “Three…”

  Misha held her breath.

  “Two…”

  Celica whispered something under her breath that might’ve been a prayer.

  “One…”

  “BEGIN!”

  The arena burst into motion.

  Kael, previously crouched behind Christopher and Daniel like a hidden bde, exploded into a sprint along the outer ring of the arena, his figure a blur as he made a wide arc. At the same moment, Ravyn raised her staff and unleashed a blinding fre of light—an overcharged 1st-grade illumination spell. The sudden fsh flooded the center of the battlefield, forcing the Red Dragon team to shield their eyes, momentarily dazed.

  Christopher and Daniel surged forward in unison. Their coordination was crisp—no hesitation, no wasted movement—as they aimed directly for Jared, the third-year team’s leader.

  “End it fast,” Ethan murmured in surprise, watching the speed of their assault.

  Below, the Red Dragon team quickly began to recover. Jared backpedaled, blinking against the lingering light, while Stefan, tall and broad-shouldered, stepped in front of him with sword raised. He met the charge without flinching.

  “Orrin! Fg assassin, right!” Jared barked as he spotted Kael already halfway across the arena, beelining for one of the team’s fgs.

  “Gotcha!” came the reply. Orrin dashed after Kael, activating Accelerate and covering ground with blistering speed.

  “Ugh! I feel useless with just first-grade spells!” Mar groaned, her hands glowing as she unched a swarm of small fireballs toward Christopher in rapid succession.

  Meanwhile, in the stands, Ethan and the others were caught in the tension of the csh unfolding before them.

  “Wow! This is intense!” Misha leaned over the railing, her eyes wide with excitement.

  “I thought it’d just be a straightforward fight,” Ethan admitted. “Didn’t know about the fgs at all.”

  “Oh, it’s your first time watching a team match?” Oliver asked, not taking his eyes off the battlefield. “Yeah, the fg rules are a big part of it. Keeps the battle dynamic—forces teams to multitask.”

  “So, what’s your read on it?” Ethan asked. “Think they’ve got a shot?”

  Oliver nodded slowly. “They’re doing better than I expected. Honestly? With a little luck, they might win this first round.”

  “Really?” Ethan raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes. But you can forget about a second win.” Oliver said. “The third-years probably thought it’d be a walk in the park. But after this? They’ll take it seriously. So our chances to win will be close to zero.”

  Ethan frowned slightly. “Which means the real challenge comes next…”

  “Exactly.”

  Seeing Mar begin her chant, Ravyn reacted immediately. One line of glowing runes formed in front of her, then another, then another—appearing in rapid succession as if her thoughts were drawing them straight into reality. In mere seconds, a complete spell hovered before her.

  A water orb, about the size of a soccer ball, shot forth, gliding through the air with purpose. It intercepted the first fireball in a sizzling hiss, extinguishing it instantly. Without pause, the orb surged forward again, devouring the next fireball—and then another—shrinking slightly with each impact but showing no signs of stopping.

  “Whoa…” Oliver muttered. “Ravyn’s spell is eating them.”

  Meanwhile, the duel between Christopher, Daniel, and Stefan had escated. Their teampy—Daniel’s heavy swings paired with Christopher’s rapid strikes—began to overwhelm the third-year defender. Stefan grunted as he blocked another blow, sweat dripping from his brow.

  But just as Christopher spun in for a decisive strike, Jared stepped forward, intercepting the attack with a well-timed parry. The rhythm of battle shifted instantly.

  Jared’s presence rebanced the scales, and the csh between the four fighters settled into a fierce stalemate. Sparks flew from bdes, bursts of mana fred between them, but neither side could find an opening.

  Elsewhere, Kael’s speed had already earned his team their first major victory. He darted into the Red Dragon’s backline, sliding under one of Mar's spells and sshing through the first fg with his dagger.

  “One down!” Kael shouted triumphantly—just before Orrin reached him.

  Their weapons cshed in a burst of mana, and though Kael moved with lightning agility, Orrin’s speed and precision showed a clear edge. Their duel exploded into a blur of footwork and steel at the edge of the arena.

  From the stands, Anya nearly leapt out of her seat.

  “Oh gosh! We’re winning! Kael broke the fg!”

  “Go Christopher! Fight!” Celica yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth.

  Misha clutched Ethan’s arm, her voice a breathless whisper. “Can we win!? Can we really win!?”

  Ethan’s eyes stayed fixed on the battle, though a lower part of him was distracted by Misha’s grip on his arm. “If we can hold out until the time limit, we’ve got a real shot. But…”

  He gnced at the growing csh between Kael and Orrin, and the double duel intensifying in the center of the arena.

  “…the question is whether we can hold out that long.” Ethan eyes flicking to the hourgsses mounted above the arena. Three were already empty. Less than two minutes left.

  Down in the arena, the fight was intensifying by the second.

  “Change of pns,” Christopher called, parrying a strike with his shield. “Daniel—go to point B!”

  Daniel looked like he wanted to argue, but one gnce at Christopher’s focused expression was enough.

  “…Good luck,” he muttered, disengaging with a feint before darting sideways. He slipped behind Christopher, who moved to block Stefan’s immediate attempt to pursue.

  “Damn it! Don’t let him escape!” Stefan shouted.

  “Oh no, you don’t!” Christopher stepped into his path, sword and shield raised.

  Jared narrowed his eyes. “You think you can win against both of us by yourself?”

  “No,” Christopher replied calmly. “But I don’t have to win. I just have to survive.”

  Jared barked a ugh. “Fine, then let’s see if you can!”

  He shifted tactics immediately. “Stefan—full pressure. We take him down, they lose. Orrin, watch your back!”

  “On it!” Stefan responded, already unching another heavy strike.

  Christopher dug in his heels, taking the blow and redirecting it with expert form, shield absorbing the force. He was no longer going on the offensive—only holding his ground, drawing all their attention.

  Meanwhile, Daniel sprinted toward Kael’s position on the far fnk. Orrin, still tangled in combat with Kael, caught sight of him just in time to dodge a sneak attack that nearly clipped his shoulder.

  “Look out!” Kael shouted as Daniel’s bde swung dangerously close.

  “Sorry!” Daniel grinned.

  “This guy’s fast—faster than me!” Kael warned as he backed off a step.

  “Yeah, I just noticed,” Daniel agreed, panting.

  “Then let’s go with joint attack Pn B!” Kael proposed.

  “Got it!”

  Daniel immediately shifted forward, putting himself between Orrin and Kael. Orrin readied for the inevitable two-on-one, scanning for Kael’s follow-up strike… but it never came.

  Instead, Kael had already broken off and was sprinting full-speed toward the next fg.

  “Damn it!” Orrin hissed. “You sneaky little—!”

  He tried to move, but Daniel was right there, cutting off his path with a flurry of swings.

  “Where are you going?” Daniel grinned, stepping forward. “We’re just getting started!”

  Back in the stands, Ethan clenched the railing.

  “Kael’s clear,” he said. “He might actually get all the fgs!”

  “Come on, come on…” Anya whispered.

  A wave of cheers erupted from the stands as Kael darted past a distracted Orrin and smmed his bde into the second fg. The wooden post cracked and toppled with a satisfying thud.

  2nd fg down!

  Kael didn’t stop. He pivoted cleanly and made a beeline across the remaining stretch of the arena, his footwork precise, his momentum never breaking. Another ssh—another fg shattered.

  3rd fg down!

  The crowd held its breath as he approached the st one.

  4th—

  No.

  Someone dropped in front of him at the final moment, arms wide, stance solid.

  Mar.

  She was panting, her fiery hair clinging to her cheeks, clearly having dashed away from her magic duel with Ravyn to intercept him.

  “I’m not letting you have this fg!” she decred, eyes bzing.

  Kael skidded to a stop, breathing hard. “I don’t need it.”

  “What do you—”

  Crack!

  A blur of water-blue light whipped past Mar’s side.

  The st fg, which had been just behind her, exploded into splinters. Ravyn stood a few paces away, arm still outstretched from the spell she’d fired mid-sprint.

  Silence followed for just a second.

  Then—

  “The match is over!” Professor Rhea’s voice rang out, clear and smug. “Victory goes to the Dream Team!”

  Cheers erupted in the stands.

  The entire arena burst into life, especially on the first-year side. A wave of celebration swept through the younger students, most of whom had never expected to see such an overwhelming victory.

  Ethan, swept up in the moment, pulled Misha into a hug, lifting her off the ground slightly as he ughed in disbelief. “We actually won!”

  Misha squeaked in surprise, but her arms wrapped around him just as tightly, her face glowing with excitement and warmth.

  Next to them, Anya spun and threw her arms around Oliver with a triumphant grin. “We did it!”

  Oliver, caught completely off guard, blinked twice, stiff as a board in her embrace. “Uh… y-yeah, we… totally did?” he managed, unsure whether to pat her back or keep his arms at his sides. He settled for awkwardly patting her shoulder with one hand.

  And then there was Celica—spinning in pce, her long hair whipping through the air as she jumped up and down on the bench, pumping her fists skyward. “CHRISTOPHER! YOU’RE THE BEST! I KNEW YOU’D WIN! AHHHHH!”

  Meanwhile Professor Rhea crossed her arms, grinning wide already imagining how she’d torment her poor baby brother ter. This was going to be so much fun.

  The following matches unfolded just as Oliver had predicted.

  The second match began much like the first—with energy, strategy, and careful coordination—but the third-year team was ready. This time, Orrin didn’t take a defensive stance against Kael. Instead, he grinned and challenged him head-on in a breakneck fg-hunting race. Speed for speed, it was a daring gamble… and a ndslide. Kael, despite his agility, was no match. Orrin not only outpaced him but managed to tag two of the Dream Team’s fgs before Kael could even reach the second. Victory went decisively to the Red Dragons.

  The third match held the same frantic tempo, but this time the Red Dragons changed their approach. Orrin, after making an obvious push for the first fg, suddenly abandoned it and looped around, catching Christopher completely off-guard. The sneak attack came without warning—one second Christopher was guarding the center, and the next, Orrin’s sword was at his throat. The shock on Christopher’s face was clear. He hadn’t even seen it coming.

  The fourth match was Mar’s moment. All through the first match, she’d been forced into mostly a defensive position, but now? Now she showed her true power. Fmes, bolts, shards of ice, and bursts of wind appeared in dazzling patterns above her head. Dozens of first-grade spells, cast in perfect sync, came crashing down like a rain of destruction onto every one of the Dream Team’s fgs. The sheer dispy of magical control was terrifying. Ravyn tried to counter, but Mar’s barrage overwhelmed her completely. It wasn’t just a victory—it was complete domination.

  And then came the fifth match.

  Ethan didn’t even take notes. He just shook his head slowly, watching the Dream Team get picked apart in a calcuted, surgical dispy. It felt like the first match had been a gift. A courtesy, perhaps. Or maybe just a pse in judgment from the Red Dragons. Either way, it made the first win feel like a dream in comparison to the harsh reality that followed.

  Still, as the battle ended, Ethan knew one thing for sure—this experience, humbling as it was, would be invaluable in the tournament ahead. The Dream Team might have lost four out of five… but they had seen what they were up against.

  If the Royal Academy 1st year students were truly on par with their own third years, then at least now they had a realistic benchmark. Maybe their odds of victory weren’t high. Maybe the path ahead was steep—an uphill climb paved with brutal sparring sessions and countless bruises. But now, they had a clear objective. A path that went beyond merely knowing the direction forward. It was forged through experience, sharpened by the sting of defeat, and strengthened by the sobering realization of how far they still had to go.

  This time they fought to learn. Next time, they’d fight to win.

  To prove that even against overwhelming odds, they could stand tall—and triumph.