Chapter 24: You Signed Up Too?

The annual Faeil Academy Tournament kicked off in a storm of excitement. The campus buzzed with energy as participants stood bright-eyed and eager, faces flushed like they'd been splashed with dog's blood.

"Look, is that the City Lord?" Beatrice tugged at Professor Maria's sleeve, pointing to the VIP stand where a rotund, opulently dressed man sat surrounded by academy officials. Thunder's gaze snagged on a familiar face—the old man from admissions.

"That's him," Maria confirmed. She'd been roped into judging today and had rushed over to encourage her students.

"Wait, why's that old guy up there?" Thunder frowned.

"Who?" Eric followed his gaze.

"The one dressed like a hobo grinning like a creep." Thunder pointed at the scruffy elder beside the City Lord.

"Bro Thunder, you don't recognize him?" Eric's newly pomaded hair gleamed as he leaned in—the two outfits Thunder bought him yesterday had clearly upgraded their relationship.

"He's famous?" The moment Thunder asked, Beatrice shot him a look reserved for village idiots. Even Professor Maria suppressed a smile.

"That's our Headmaster Laurent. You're new, so it's understandable."

"A wind archmage," Eric clapped Thunder's shoulder. "You know him?"

*Damn, the headmaster?*

"He processed my enrollment."

"Headmaster enjoys... eccentric hobbies." Beatrice scowled. "Ever seen a principal who harasses female students?"

"Disgusting!" Thunder joined her outrage. Now he noticed the old man's beady eyes scanning the crowd, lingering on female attendees.

"This tournament's unusual," Maria murmured. "The City Lord never attends, let alone half the nobility."

True—the event reeked of hidden agendas.

"Regardless, do your best!" Maria pumped her fists.

"I'll win first place for you, Professor!" Beatrice lunged into another bosom-crushing hug that left Thunder envious.

---

War drums thundered, silencing the crowd. Headmaster Laurent and the City Lord rose.

"Prepare yourselves—individual matches start soon. With so many entrants, I'm needed elsewhere." Maria vanished into organizer duties.

Laurent launched into an hour-long speech through a trumpet-like alchemical amplifier—glorifying the academy's past, present, and future while spraying saliva. The City Lord mercifully kept it brief: "You are Faeil's pride. As your lord, I declare the tournament begun!"

Deafening applause erupted.

The competition split between warriors and mages, the latter further divided into fire, water, wind, earth, wood, lightning, and ice disciplines. With hundreds of participants, individual matches occupied the morning, team battles the afternoon.

"Pin your numbers." Beatrice fastened her "8" plaque to her chest—auspicious in this world—making her new bracelet chime. Eric followed with his "9."

They froze upon seeing Thunder's chest emblazoned with "100."

"Bro... you signed up for individuals?" Eric gaped.

"Participation matters most," Thunder smoothed his robes. "Nice round number, eh?"

"Lightning Class's reputation is doomed," Beatrice facepalmed.

"It's fine!" Eric forced optimism. "The magic shields prevent injuries. Good experience!"

"I hope you face me first," Beatrice hissed. "Otherwise, prepare for humiliation." Who'd have thought the academy's top wastrel would sneak-register?

Fate had other plans. A teacher immediately called Beatrice's number.

"Coming!" She threw Thunder a pitying glance. "When your turn comes, surrender the instant your shield cracks!" With a stomp, she marched to her arena.

Matches were randomly assigned by teachers drawing numbered plaques. No fixes, pure luck.

No sooner had Beatrice left than Thunder and Eric heard their numbers called.

"What are the odds?" Eric chuckled.

They soon realized it wasn't a matchup—with over 100 participants (nearly the entire student body), multiple matches ran simultaneously to save time.

**Will Thunder's secret preparations bear fruit—or will his first match end in disgrace?**