Outperformed

„She seems to be fond of him."

Avalon listened to Gunvar; his assumption wasn't wrong—he knew the woman who tested these children; she was the one who worked on the concept of schooling children from all kinds of regions. Seeing her efforts paying off made Avalon cross his arms—he hesitated bringing the boy with him after he had found him lying on the ground; his bloodied back was the only detail Avalon remembered from that night.

Midas grew quite substantially when it comes to his mana usage, without even realising, he managed to get a much sturdier control over his stone. Yet, his concentration was lacking—just a foreign glance was enough to make him lose focus. His aimless glance that looked in the direction of the duel was barely visible from up here. Gunvar seemed to be intrigued by the next fight, stepping closer to the stone wall, which acted as a railing for the viewers.

Midas turned to his side; the girl next to him barely was able to stand, laying her hand on her stern brows—seemingly trying to quench her aching. Turning away from the starting duel, Midas crouched next to her, trying to make sense of the situation. Her teeth clenched softly as she briefly looked at his worried expression.

Her brother's duel partner met his dash forward by colliding with him; the hooded boy's double daggers met the wooden staff of his enemy. The dark wood easily withstood the roughed-up metal that pressed against it—both of them halting in the position as they pressed against each other with their respective weapons.

„Are you alright…? Do you need assistance…?"

The youth didn't know what he should do at the moment; none of the guards seemed to have picked up on them—getting them to help Jevaila would be complicated, given Midas's understanding of the water kingdom's language still lacked.

Fortunately, from one of the open entrances that led to the fighting ground, Avalon emerged—jogging towards the two of them, luckily having seen Midas struggle to help her out.

Seeing her hold onto her forehead made Midas remember his past, the few dreams he had always ended with a never ending ringing, its pitch earnumbing - something that wasn't able to be blocked out by holding onto your ears or clutching your teeth to bare the pain. Despite knowing that, all he was able to do was watch her state slowly worsen.

Upon Avalon's arrival, Midas caught her limp body; Jevaila had lost consciousness—her shut eyes now completely relaxed, unable to move any muscle. Avalon checked her pulse with a stern expression.

„She just curled up in pain, then she fell… Ah, her nose is bleeding."

The youth backtracked as a slim flow of blood escaped one of her nostrils. Avalon and the boy quietly exchanged both equally worried and puzzled glances before her body was eventually picked up by the red-haired man.

„I'll bring her to someone who might know better than us. I just hope her brother won't have to be brought to the doctor as well…"

Avalon's light remark made Midas turn to the duel that played out in front of them with a serious expression. Javelin didn't seem like a soft-mannered person yet—the way he uncontrollably dashed head-on towards the enemy was worrisome.

His opponent was a shorthaired boy, his brown hair muted, almost grayish—shorn and regrown to somewhat cover his scalp. His wooden staff easily kept Javelin at a comfortable distance, using the range advantage he had over the double daggers.

Evading being caught by the staff by ducking under it, he propelled forward—holding his dual blades to his sides, Javelin's glare was set only on the relaxed eyes of his enemy. His attack yet again blocked by him, he was pushed away as his enemy grasped the long weapon with both of his hands to push him away.

Flashing his teeth in annoyance, Javelin realized he was somewhat out of breath, constantly having to dash towards the enemy—unable to land any hit in time. His time to think was cut short, the staff of his enemy already swung out at him again as he closed the distance.

Dodging the poke, ducking under the following strike. Throwing out one of his daggers, Javelin was able to open up a slim time frame in which he could act. His hand briefly hovered over the dusty ground as he dashed forward. Busy evading the incoming metal launched at him, his eyes quickly set on the hooded opponent in front of him.

Ramming his stick into the ground, climbing and grasping the sturdy wood, he extended his leg in order to kick Javelin into the ground, freeing the wood from the earth again as he spun around to land on the ground. Already knowing his opponent evaded the strike, he dashed towards Javelin.

Already sensing the fact he didn't pay attention to his free hand, Javelin brought his palm out to the enemy—dust and sand flying into the eyes of the short-haired opponent. Making his lids flinch, he closed his eyes shut, blocking it with one of his hands.

Already dashing towards the blind enemy, Javelin pointed his blade out at the enemy's unprotected hip. From the fast-dissolving cloud of sand and dust, the dull end of the wooden rod emerged—almost instantly landing a hit onto the wide-open stomach of Javelin. Cutting off his already faint breathing, the hooded boy collapsed—his body falling to the ground as Javelin was unable to catch his breath in time.

„Do you really have to win these duels in order to qualify for a seat…?"

Midas turned his back to Avalon again, his arms holding onto Jevaila—the bits of blood caught by the grey silk that wrapped around her neck, staining it in a deep red.

„Winning or losing in these duels doesn't matter, Gunvar told me. Whether you'll be accepted into this university or not depends on the combined outcome of your written and practical exams… The most important things for them to look out for are the way a contestant is able to use their mana, if they are able to use it in a fight… and how secure their control over it is."

The boy with the staff joined the left group with Javelin lumping right beside him—both of them quietly being brought back to their group by one of the guards. Javelin's eyes quickly lightened up in what seemed to be fear—his loss was completely forgotten once he saw his unconscious sister in Avalon's arms.

„She had some sort of headache, I think… After that, she lost consciousness, and her nose began to bleed. Don't worry… Avalon here will bring her to the doctor as quickly as possible."

His hand remaining on his stomach, Javelin took a long breather—still somewhat shook by the wooden stick that rammed into his stomach, he plumbly let himself fall back onto the ground, sitting in front of Midas as he stashed his blades into their holsters.

„That son of a…"

His voice dry and tired, Javelin murmured to himself in frustration. His opponent kept his dim expression, quietly sitting down next to Midas—as the three of them loosely formed a circle. The three of them watched as Avalon made his way out of the battlegrounds, vanishing into the shade of the halls that looped around it.

Turning back to the two of them, Midas was faced with a scanning glare from the staff-wielding boy next to him, his blue eyes set on him with a calm expression. Returning his glance with somewhat stern brows, the two of them stared at each other quietly until Javelin got a word in.

„Why didn't they escort me out of the ring like that other guy you fought…?"

Finally able to turn to Javelin, already tired from side-eyeing the mute boy next to him, Midas's expression softened.

„He, who carried Jevaila, told me about how this exam really works… Whether you lose or win, they only judge the way you are able to use your mana and weapons in a fight…"

Javelin scooted closer to the two of them, his eyes scanning Midas's face as he heard the words he spoke. His dark brows sharpening to form a dimly surprised look, seemingly not having anticipated her sister to be sharing that information with someone like Midas.

„She told you our names…?"

Midas nodded quietly, meeting the perplexed glance of Javelin infront of him - his demeanour much softer now, knowing Avalon was quite beneficial given he might've never come to help his sister. Hopefully, that alone would help him and Javelin get on better terms with each other.

Using his free time as the third duel commenced, Midas's eyes sternly viewed his group—none of the children that made up the crowd even resembled Inaya or Haya, even though a considerable amount of them seemed to be from the northern desert.

Before Midas realized it, the group in front of him dissolved, some being guided outside while others were brought to be in the group of contestants Midas was a part of. After the last duel had officially been ended, the three of them got up from the ground, reluctantly stepping forward towards the woman on the wooden pedestal—her gesture calling them to stand in front of her.

Now condensed to roughly forty to fifty children, they were forced to listen to the announcement of the older woman in front of them, her expression somewhat proud as she spoke to them—no one knew her exact words, but the context and her tone were enough to make them understand that the exam came to an end.

Upon her speech, Midas, Javelin, and the mute boy that waited in the messy line at the exit of the arena alongside them slowly made their way towards the exit of the building, being stopped shortly by a knight in front of the door to be handed a paper scroll before being able to finally leave.

Looking down onto the scroll, Midas's eyes were set on the blue wool string that bound it together, secured by red wax to keep it sealed.