ARCADIA’S YOUNG ELITES

The competition arena stood like a sleeping giant under the bright morning sun. Its towering walls cast long shadows over the crowd pouring in.

Spectators filled the stands — nobles and commoners alike — the air buzzing with anticipation.

"The Arcadia Young Elite Tournament"

This wasn't just any event. It was a gathering of the strongest young mages of the continent, all under the age of twenty, gathered to prove their worth.

The roar of conversation grew louder as all the 32 contestants began arriving through the grand gate.

A group in deep red and gold entered.

Leading them was a tall youth with white hair and flame-shaped earrings dangling from his ears. He smirked, hands casually tucked into his cloak as he surveyed the arena.

"That's Rovan Yale," someone whispered.

"The heir of the Yale family?"

"A Tier 2 Mage before seventeen. Master of Earth and Flame."

"They say he fought a volcanic spirit beast in a dungeon bare-handed and came out grinning."

"He's cocky," another muttered.

"Because he can afford to be," someone replied.

Rovan cracked his knuckles as he walked, the ground subtly shifting under his feet. His magic wasn't even active — that was just his presence.

Next came a gust of wind — cold and sharp.

A trio of figures landed silently, their arrival almost unnoticeable. At the front was a youth in dark blue robes, a greatsword strapped to his back, his silver hair whipping in the breeze.

"It's Zephyr Albrecht!"

Gasps echoed through the stands.

"He mastered Tier 2 magic spells in both Wind and Ice before he turned nineteen!"

"Fastest mage under twenty."

"They say he once sliced through a mountain ridge in under ten seconds. He fought with hunters inside dungeons and his achievements are awe-inspiring."

Zephyr's calm, unreadable expression didn't change. He moved like the wind itself — weightless, smooth, and dangerously quiet.

And then — lightning crackled in the air.

The temperature shifted again as a girl stepped into view, silver hair braided neatly over one shoulder, her eyes glowing faintly with power. It felt like mana shimmered around her.

"Lilith Starwind has arrived!"

Even the noble families leaned forward in their seats.

"Twelve years old… and already a Tier 2 Mage."

"She has four affinities — Lightning, Gravity, Healing, and Air."

"She defeated five instructors simultaneously at the Starwind estate last month."

"Her father is a Tier 5 Hunter!"

"Her mother's a national-class healer!"

Lilith stood with folded arms, eyes scanning the arena like a queen looking for entertainment. She yawned.

"None of these look interesting," she muttered. "Just another crowd of insects."

In the high balcony, her father Noah frowned slightly but said nothing. He only hoped someone here would put a dent in that pride.

A sudden murmur rippled through the arena.

A young man in black and silver robes stepped in, a golden crest of the royal family shining on his chest.

"Prince Rowan of the Royal Bloodline?"

Everyone stood up to show respect.

"The king's third son. He's never appeared in public before!"

"Trained by the royal court mage. Rumor says he's Tier 2 as well — specialized in Fire and Lightning magic."

"He beat the s**t out of an entire platoon during a mock war test!"

Rowan didn't acknowledge the whispers. His presence was serene but imposing — like a sword sheathed in velvet.

Right behind him came another stir.

A swordsman — not clad in mage robes, but simple martial attire, a great curved blade across his back. His posture was flawless. Every step was like a flowing strike.

"The Sword Saint's disciple?"

It's Morgan Benedict.

"He's not even a mage!"

"No, he is — he awakened Wind and Lightning affinities."

"I heard he cut through a wyvern's wing in a single slash during a dungeon raid!"

Whispers flooded the arena — comparisons, bets, debates.

After that there was silence for a brief moment.

Then entered … the team from the Smith Family.

The crowd leaned forward.

From the shadows of the arch, Darius Smith emerged, regal and composed, his robe perfectly tailored, magic rippling like coiled serpents beneath his skin. His control was immaculate — no flare, no flash, just sheer force compressed within him.

"Darius!"

"He's the genius of the Smiths."

"Three affinities — Fire, Air, and Gravity."

"They say he's already stronger than some Tier 3s!"

"Yes. But he is still just Tier 1 mage. So nothing big."

"You stupid. Tier 1, yes. But Tier 1 in all three affinities. And he is close to a breakthrough. Another one or two months and he will swipe the whole floor with others."

"Yeah, yeah. But he is nothing compared to the big wigs like Rovan, Zephyr, Morgan or the prince. Or even Lilith Starwind."

"You know nothing. Do you know who he was trained by? It's Kael Thorne, the war mage. Who trains the royal guards of the Royal family."

"What?!"

Even Rovan arched an eyebrow.

Zephyr's eyes narrowed slightly.

Lilith clicked her tongue. "Tch. Another arrogant fire mage."

And yet — right behind Darius, almost unnoticed, walked another figure.

He wore simple black trousers and a dark, hoodless cloack that draped over his shoulders, his face calm, eyes half-lidded as if he was bored.

"Who's that?"

"Another Smith?"

"Doesn't look like much. Seems like just a kid."

But Lilith Starwind is of the same age as well, maybe.

"How can you compare a goat with a dragon? He is probably a filler. Or Darius's shadow."

The announcer didn't call his name. The records only showed:

Logan Smith – Tier 1 mage.

But nothing about his deviant or latent affinities were mentioned.

The crowd moved on. But in the noble box, an old Archmage watching quietly stroked his beard.

"…That one in the black cloack ," he said under his breath, "walks like he's already seen death."

Back in the participant zone, Rovan grinned.

"This is gonna be fun."

Zephyr closed his eyes.

"I feel… the tournament is going to be exciting."

Lilith turned toward Darius. "Three affinities, huh? But still nothing compared to me."

Darius could sense all the glances. But nothing concerned him. Except one…

His nightmare… walking just behind him.