Chapter 21: Announcement of The Grand Tournament and Rewards

As the dust settled and the crowd's cheering quieted down, the head of the academy, Eldric Thorne, stepped forward onto the stage. The golden crest of Valoria shimmered behind him.

"All participants," he began, his voice steady, calm, and booming across the stadium, "You've all done well today. It takes courage to stand where you stood—and even more to keep standing."

The applicants straightened, rows of tired, anxious, bruised young warriors and scholars standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Arthur, Nyelle, Toren, Lucien, Astrid, Prince Alarion—all among them.

"Now…" Eldric raised a single hand. "It is time to announce the results."

Toren nudged Arthur, grinning wide. "Hey… thanks, man. That potion really worked."

Arthur blinked. "Potion?"

Nyelle turned her head. "Wait, you gave him a potion?"

Lucien's voice cut in behind them. "You cheat too? you are interesting man, Arthur."

Arthur stared at them. "It wasn't a potion. That was just bitter gourd juice. It was for Veltron… helps with digestion."

Nyelle blinked. "Wait. That wasn't magic juice?"

Arthur: "Nope."

Lucien snorted. "Well, placebo magic works too, I guess."

Eldric now stood center, holding an open scroll. "The students who are selected will receive a mark of entry. Those who do not—remember, this is not the end, but only a beginning. Train harder. Grow wiser. And come again next year."

He stepped back. A dozen instructors joined him.

Then, with a swift arc of his hand, Eldric used a spell

Suddenly, robes—deep blue with golden trims, marked with the emblem of the Valoria Academy, began to rise into the air in glowing spirals of light.

A collective breath was held in the arena.

The robes danced for a second above the students…

…then shot out in all directions, flying like intelligent birds, zooming over rows of students.

they landed on shoulders.

Prince Alarion.Astrid Caelra.Lucien Vaelric.Nyelle of Drakoria.Toren Cale, who yelped when the robe hit him and laughed like a madman.And—

Arthur.

His robe floated down slowly, landing across his arms. He held it silently for a moment, eyes scanning its fabric, then quietly slipped it on.

He looked good in it. More than good. The cut was perfect.

The crowd began cheering again as robe after robe found its student.

Some wept in joy.

Others stood stunned.

A few students dropped to their knees in disappointment as no robe came to them.

But Arthur turned to Toren, who was holding his own robe like it was treasure from the gods.

Arthur gave a half-smile.

"You did it," he said.

Toren blinked, still half in disbelief. "I guess bitter gourd is magical." 

As the final robe floated into the hands of a student, Eldric Thorne raised his hand once more. The crowd hushed again, their energy now simmering with curiosity and anticipation.

"You may have noticed," Eldric said, his voice clear, "that each robe bears three emblems on the chest—Wits, Physical, and Magic."

He gestured to his own robe, and as if on cue, magical embroidery shimmered on the chests of the new academy students—each symbol glowing faintly.

"Under each emblem," Eldric continued, "you may find a star mark."

Murmurs broke out across the formation. Students looked down at their robes. Sure enough, below each respective emblem, small golden stars had appeared—some robes bore one, some two, and a very rare few bore three.

"These stars," Eldric said, "are earned when you pass a test in that field during the entrance exams. For example: if you passed only the physical test, you will see a single star beneath that emblem. If you passed both the physical and magic trials, you will see two stars accordingly. And yes—some of you have passed in all three."

The crowd reacted with awe. Parents in the stadium leaned over railings to squint at their children's robes, pride blooming in faces.

"But…" Eldric's tone grew firmer, more commanding. "Do not take them lightly."

He paused, letting silence stretch.

"These stars are not decoration. They are earned. And in the year ahead, should you demonstrate exceptional talent, progress, or bravery in any of the three disciplines, a new star may be granted."

Gasps echoed across the arena. Some students straightened, already dreaming of five stars.

Eldric turned, and with a grand gesture toward the back of the stage, banners unfurled from above.

On them: A towering coliseum, golden swords crossed behind a flaming crest.

"The Valoria Grand Tournment," he announced. "Held once every year, only those who attain five stars in a single discipline are eligible to fight. It is the highest honor a student can claim before graduation. The winner shall be granted rare magical armaments, riches from the royal treasury, and a chance to be trained by the greatest master of their chosen field."

Even Lucien's eyes twitched at that. he thought, Damn it, I stupidly slacked off instead of gaining those stars. Anyway I still got a year long to attain 4 more that's not bad for someone like me.

Arthur blinked slowly.

Nyelle's breath caught.

Toren whispered, "Riches and training? Stars, here I come."

Eldric took a scroll from a younger instructor and stepped forward again.

"That brings us to our final announcement—Top Performers of This Year's Entrance Exam."

The crowd erupted in cheers.

"Those who performed at the highest level across their trials, whose names shall now echo within the academy walls."

Silence returned.

The scroll unfurled.

Eldric's voice echoed across the now-silent arena.

"Top performer of the Wits Trial… Lucien Vaelric."

Eldric had walked up and presented him with an ancient book—its leather cover worn but intact, a golden clasp sealing its pages.

A stir of claps rose. Lucien stepped forward from the formation, hands in pockets, eyes sharp and proud—but his stride was lazy, as if he expected it.

"Top performer of the Physical Trial… Arthur."

Gasps broke out in the stands, followed swiftly by cheers. The name was now familiar—Arthur, the one who beat the prince in the physical trial. Whispers turned to loud voices of recognition as he stepped forward, steady and focused. The crowd clapped harder, impressed that a commoner had made it this far.

From the main stage, Valen Draegor came down the steps, his footsteps strong, his cloak trailing behind like a banner.

He stopped before Arthur and handed him a sheathed sword—its handle aged and beautiful, runes carved into the pommel.

"This," Draegor said, a grin tugging at his lips, "It's not just a sword—it's a test. Sharpen yourself as it sharpens you. You're a tough kid. Keep grinding."

Arthur bowed respectfully, taking the sword with both hands.

"Top performer of the Magic Trial…" Eldric raised his voice, "Prince Alarion Valenhart of Valoria."

The crowd roared. Trumpets blared. Alarion, calm and poised, stepped forward—elegant, immaculate in posture and pride.

Vale himself handed him a gleaming magic ornament, shaped like a sigil. The prince accepted it with a nod, eyes flicking once to Arthur and then to the sky.

Then came Eldric again, as fire runes began to circle the banners behind him.

"And now… for the Overall Top Performers of this year's Entrance Examination."

Silence.

A golden scroll unrolled above the arena magically, names glowing one by one.

3 of them passed all 3 tests with high scores which distincted them from others and gained 3 stars respectively.

"At Third Place…""Ravion Drelhast, age seventeen, son of House Drelhast—ranked noble of the east province."

A tall, older-looking noble boy walked up with confidence, his frame broad and expression controlled. Applause rang, his name clearly known among the elite.

"At Second Place…Astrid Caelra of the House Caelra."

Murmurs again—some astonished, others silent in respect. She walked up in her usual quiet manner, gaze fixed ahead. Her performance had spoken loud enough.

And then—

"The Top Performer of this year's exams…Prince Alarion Valenhart, Son of King Hedes, Heir of Valoria."

The stadium exploded in cheers and fireworks lit the sky in cascading waves of red and gold. Alarion walked forward calmly, positioning himself in the center as the light shimmered down upon him.

Astrid stood at his right. Ravion at his left. The three top students of the year.

Just below the stage, off to the side of the formation, Arthur stood holding his sword, and Lucien leaned on his heels, unimpressed.

But Draegor, who had returned to his seat, didn't look at Alarion.

His eyes remained on Arthur.

"I sensed something, something foreign," he murmured, "He is Interesting, although he might not be the strongest yet."