The Level of Competition

[STADIUM GROUND – EASTERN RIDGE]

A sharp scream tore through the haze.

Then another.

Bodies fell across the cracked earth—some disarmed, others simply unconscious, mana shields shattered and armor scorched. One by one, the hill defenders scattered like dry leaves in a storm. And in the middle of it all stood him.

A tall boy with sharp silver-blonde hair, swept carelessly back from a sculpted face that looked like it belonged on a royal crest. He wore no emblem—long black cloak draped over dark red robes, sleeves billowing with every movement.

And around him was destruction.

[COMMENTARY BOX]

Jake's voice cracked through the stadium like a thunderclap.

"WAIT—WAIT A DAMN SECOND, LOOK AT THAT! LOOK AT THAT!!"

Elira leaned forward, stunned.

"Section 4B. Eastern ridge. One participant has just taken down six competitors in under thirty seconds. Alone."

The floating screen zoomed in—showing a crater of scorched earth, several students groaning as they crawled away. At the center, the boy was adjusting his collar with calm detachment. As if all this was beneath him.

Jake yelled over the noise.

"That's—that's Eryndor Velkhart! The fourth son of the Highlord of Valegard! He's here? I thought Valegard didn't send anyone this year!"

Elira's voice was quieter. "Looks like they changed their minds."

[ERYNDOR VELKHART – POV]

He stepped over a coughing boy who barely had time to summon his second shield. Pathetic.

His hand flicked, and a curved glyph of dark crimson flared beneath his boot. A shockwave pulsed out, knocking the last standing figure flat. Then silence.

Eryndor exhaled softly. Not because he was tired. But because this was boring.

'If this is the level of competition Astrea breeds, I may have made a mistake coming here.'

He raised his eyes to the cliff above—one of the mid-tier hills where a flag pulsed behind a stone barrier.

And more importantly—someone was watching him.

Red eyes. Calm posture.

Kaine.

Eryndor tilted his head.

Ah. That one.

[COMMENTARY BOX]

Jake nearly fell out of his chair.

"OHHHHHHH—OH YOU'RE SEEING THIS, RIGHT?! HE'S LOOKING STRAIGHT AT KAINE!"

Elira spoke over the swell of gasps from the audience.

"This could be the matchup of the trial. The son of Duke Kaelthorn… versus the cold-blooded fourth heir of Valegard."

The crowd was already roaring.

And the two didn't move.

Just stared at one another. 

Dust swirled around the shattered slope where Eryndor Velkhart now stood, cape fluttering in the breeze, gaze locked dead ahead. Across from him, a few levels higher on a slanted path of rock, Kaine stood motionless, the same unreadable expression painted across his sharp features.

They didn't speak.

But the weight in the air shifted. Students nearby could feel it

High above, Jake's voice came through—slightly more hushed than before, yet no less intense.

"Ladies and gentlemen… we might be looking at the real main event of today's entrance tournament. Kaine of House Kaelthorn—known across the eastern territories as the Awakener of Seven Elements—and Eryndor Velkhart, the youngest child of the Valegard overlords… both standing, and staring each other down like this is a personal war."

Elira added smoothly, "Eryndor is a known tactical powerhouse. At sixteen, he dismantled a three-clan alliance in the Frostspire region during a border feud. His Blood magic amplified through elemental disruption runes. That alone makes him dangerous. But Kaine…"

Jake almost cut her off. "Kaine is Kaine. You saw what he did during his awakening."

On the field, nothing moved for a moment.

Then Kaine blinked. That was the signal.

Eryndor moved first.

His body vanished in a blur, dust blasting off from where his feet had been. He descended with brutal speed, drawing a sigil mid-air—three lines etched into the space in front of him that flared in jagged crimson.

The spell cracked open like a scream—pure disruption, aimed straight for Kaine's position.

But Kaine was gone.

He appeared just left of the impact site, one foot skidding across the rock as flames gathered around his right hand, compressed into a blade-thin edge. He didn't swing it. He threw it—one elemental slash that cut the air like a blade of molten pressure.

Eryndor twisted sideways, mid-air, and clapped his hands—two runes colliding, forming a reactive shield that absorbed the flame and detonated it out in a controlled burst around him. The slope cracked from the backlash.

The crowd gasped.

Magic clashed, not just collided.

Jake's voice echoed again.

"WHAT ARE WE EVEN WATCHING—THIS ISN'T 1ST YEAR STUDENT LEVEL, THIS IS—THIS IS A DUEL BETWEEN TWO ELITES!!"

Amelia was already moving.

From Kaine's right, she blurred into position just in time to intercept another rune arrow Eryndor launched mid-roll. Her barrier flared a soft violet, absorbing the impact, and she raised both hands at once.

"Kaine, three o'clock. His binding spell's trying to trace your shadow!"

"I know."

He launched forward.

Their next exchange happened in less than five seconds—Kaine clashing with Eryndor in a burst of fire and force, while Amelia covered angles with rune shields and soft illusions to scatter tracking spells.

Eryndor spun low and swept out a line of blood glyphs across the ground. They detonated upward—but Amelia stomped her heel, a freezing spell unraveling the construct before it activated.

She hissed under her breath. "He's layering his traps."

Kaine didn't respond. His fist connected with Eryndor's chest, but the hit was cushioned by a reactive blood veil that bled away the force. Eryndor retaliated with a point-blank glyph that sliced along Kaine's arm. Not deep, but enough to sting.

They disengaged—only for a breath.

Eryndor smiled faintly.

"You've got help. How sweet."

Kaine exhaled slowly, flexing his bleeding hand once.

"She's not help. She's insurance."

Then the sky split—a massive glyph hovering over the hilltop, drawn by Eryndor's off-hand while fighting.

Jake's voice screamed, "HE WAS CASTING WHILE DEFENDING?! LOOK AT THAT GLYPH—IT'S A WIDE-FIELD MANA DISRUPTER—"

Elira cut in, "That's going to kill all spell output for five seconds. If they're not prepared—!"

Kaine snapped his fingers. A surge of darkness wrapped around his chest like armor, while Amelia immediately slammed a grounding rune into the dirt beneath them both.

The glyph fired.

The whole area went white.

Dust.

Static.

Silence.

Then—

A blur shot through the fog.

Kaine.

Arm trailing sparks, body wrapped in coiled flame and shadow—he came through like a bullet, under the glyph's reach, and slammed his palm directly into Eryndor's chest, sending him skidding backward into the cliff wall behind them.

Not finished.

Amelia followed through next, snapping her fingers and detonating a light pulse that forced Eryndor to shield his eyes—giving Kaine another three seconds to push in.

The wall cracked. Eryndor steadied himself—bleeding now, but grinning.

Finally entertained.

The air still crackled with residual heat and arcane static. Dust floated lazily across the battlefield where Kaine stood firm, sword of coiled darkness crackling in his grasp. Amelia was behind him, one hand extended, her breathing steady but sharp, violet mana flickering in her fingers.

Across from them, Eryndor Velkhart had dropped to a crouch, one knee digging into the cracked stone. His cloak was torn. His left arm hung at an awkward angle, the sleeve sliced open and bleeding where Kaine's strike had landed — dark energy still clinging faintly to the wound like a curse that refused to fade.

Eryndor gritted his teeth.

He didn't scream.

He just stared at Kaine with sharp, gleaming eyes.

"You're using that element this early?" he muttered, voice low and almost impressed. "I thought you'd wait until the final match."

Kaine's sword pulsed once, the dark strands weaving along the blade like ink in water.

"Then you don't know me very well."

[COMMENTARY BOX – MID-FIGHT]

The entire stadium was losing its mind.

Jake's voice practically cracked in disbelief.

"Are you KIDDING ME right now?! These two are still not even officially mid-rank aura users?! I've seen fifth and sixth circles that can't pull off spells this clean!"

Elira, usually composed, looked a little stunned herself.

"That last move—Kaine didn't just use darkness. He bound it. Wrapped it around a sword forged with fire and kept both elements stable. That's elite-court level stuff."

Jake nodded furiously.

"And Eryndor! Did you see that delayed glyph placement mid-deflect? That's not beginner instinct, that's field-honed battle magic!"

The floating screen above zoomed in on Eryndor's injured arm, now pulsing slightly from the residual burn left by Kaine's strike. Blood magic was already sealing the worst of the damage, but the blow had landed.

The crowd's roar was deafening.

Some nobles watching from the upper tiers stood up, fanning themselves, murmuring among each other with expressions of awe and alarm.

"They're still rookies…" someone whispered.

"That boy from Valegard just got pushed back."

[VVIP ROOM – OBSERVATION DECK]

In the private chamber above, Oriana Esraelle leaned forward, her elbow resting on the armrest of her seat, a subtle grin playing at the corner of her lips.

"Hmph. This year is really full of surprises."

Beside her, Iris Ferndale said nothing. But her fingers were clenched tight around her crossed arms.

"That boy's dangerous," Seraphina Lysavelle Aethra di Solenne murmured quietly from her high seat, silver hair pooling over one shoulder. "Both of them are. I wonder…"

[STADIUM FLOOR – FIGHT CONTINUES]

Eryndor rose slowly, blood still dripping down his forearm. His expression remained calm, but there was something new in his eyes now.

"Tch. I don't have time to burn everything here."

He stepped backward once, and the crimson sigil under his boot shimmered—ready-made escape magic. A localized blood displacement field.

"Kaine Kaelthorn," he said coolly, "I'll see you again before this academy year ends."

He vanished in a spiral of red mist—his body flickering out as the sigil consumed itself.

Gone.

The crowd roared again. Not in disappointment—but in sheer adrenaline-fueled shock.

Jake was already on it.

"HE RETREATED! ERYNDOR VELKHART RETREATED! This is unprecedented!"

Elira added, "One thing is clear… Kaine isn't just strong. He's a threat. And with Amelia Solwyn watching his flank, they're going to be impossible to ignore."

Below, Kaine exhaled slowly. The dark energy on his sword hissed, evaporating into the air like steam.

Amelia stepped forward beside him.

"You alright?"

"Fine."

"Liar. Your arm's bleeding."

He flexed his fingers once.

"Not enough to matter."

She snorted. "Still as dramatic as ever."

He didn't argue.

They turned their eyes forward once more—toward the central hill.

The true challenge hadn't even begun.