The mage facing Kier stood still. A nky man with pale skin and an unremarkable face. No staff. No catalyst. Just a ready stance, open hands, and twitchy fingers.

  Kier was pnted at the opposite edge with his hood up and staff held out, ready to cast the second he saw an opening. He wasn’t posturing, no grinning, no chuckles. He looked earnest—actually earnest. I’d never seen that on him. It looked weird.

  Neither of them wanted to make the first move, but nobody came here to watch a staring match, and certainly not me; someone would have to crack.

  And the Astaria mage was the one who moved first. He smmed a palm to the ground. A wall of fire erupted, slicing a line toward Kier.

  Normally, Kier would have tried to block it. He’d have thrown up a zy shield. It would’ve fractured. But this was a new Kier.

  Hopefully.

  Kier blocked with a weak barrier, but this time he pivoted.

  He shouldn’t be relying on that barrier for everything anyway.

  The Astaria mage saw the opening, dashed forward, and cut off Kier’s escape. The mage held his palms out, and a nce of wind formed, aimed right for Kier’s head.

  “He’s pretty fast for a mage.”

  “Mhmm,” Victoria hummed her response from beside me.

  With searing fire at his back and cutting wind at his front, Kier was forced to cast. He lifted a hand instead of his staff, and a tiny bolt shot from his finger and zapped his opponent. The jolt was just strong enough to scatter the wind nce spell. But the Astaria mage recovered quickly, another spell already gathering at his hands.

  Kier yered wind around his barrier and slipped backward through the thinning fire. He ran the edge as it colpsed, using heat shimmer and smoke for cover while casting something under his breath.

  A sudden bst of pure mana tore a hole through the tiny pilr of fme that still remained. Kier jumped out from the side with his staff pointed.

  A massive Magic circle materialized at the tip. Intricate with dozens of runes running along its edge. Way too complex for me to recognize.

  Huh... wonder what that does? Aren’t spells that need Magic circles supposed to be like super powerful?

  The other mage locked up, staring at Kier, who’d just burst from the smoke and had a staff leveled at him.

  Six balls of lightning formed along the outer ring, evenly spaced and pulsing. Thin arcs linked them together. The hissing was loud enough to hear from all the way in the tunnel.

  The mage snapped out of his hesitation and reacted.

  A basic mana barrier formed before him, then another yered over it, and another. In an instant, he’d formed a multi-yered defense, all focused forward. He hunkered down, ready to take the hit head-on.

  Kier released the spell.

  Six beams of lightning fired. They shot right past the mage.

  Every single one of them.

  “He missed!” I blurted, bumping Victoria’s shoulder.

  I was sure he’d missed. Then the ground lit up. Lightning tore straight up from it in white columns, six of them, trapping the mage in a cage of crackling light.

  The Astaria mage flinched—but only for a moment.

  He jumped and didn’t come back down. His body lifted higher, mana visibly rippling around his body he willed himself upward. Pure flight—no ptforms, no tricks—just raw Magic holding him aloft as the lightning trap closed beneath him.

  “Whoa, that’s so cool!” I hopped in pce, tugging at Victoria’s arm. “I wanna fly.”

  She kept her eyes on the fight. “You can learn something simir with Aura when you form a stage five Core. Or perhaps you’ll awaken a flight Aspect.”

  “Oh.” I paused, imagining it. “You think so?”

  I don’t need something simir. I’m gonna learn Magic, and I’m gonna fly with it. Maybe there’s even a way to give myself cool wings.

  The Astaria mage hovered twenty feet up, his body perfectly still despite the wind whipping his cloak. Constant, invisible adjustments of mana kept him airborne. It was ridiculously cool.

  And Kier? He lowered his staff just a fraction. Not smirking. Not rexed. Just standing there watching, like that was always how the spell was supposed to end. Definitely not cool.

  The Astaria mage stayed in the air with perfect bance. He raised his hand, and a translucent barrier fshed into pce just in time to block another lightning bolt. Then he answered it immediately with his own spell. Compressed fire—barely rger than his fist, thrown straight at Kier’s chest.

  Kier leaned aside. Wind swirled around his body, a cushion just good enough that the heat passed by without scorching him.

  Three more spells came in rapid succession. A slicing gust. A burst of frost. Another firebolt, all staggered, all aimed to force Kier to move, to respond. Each one was small. Each one was fast. No wasted mana.

  “Hmmm,” I muttered. “That seems annoying.”

  What would I have done if I had to fight that guy? Throw my sword at him? Can I even jump high enough to reach him? Wait... fly? [Detonation]...

  “Hehehe.”

  Victoria gave me a strange look.

  Kier answered the barrage with one of his own. Thin bolts. Quick releases. The mage deflected some, dodged others, barriers fshed and shattered, only where they were needed.

  The exchange dragged on as they kept trading spell after spell. Kier shooting up, the mage shooting down, snow and stone exploding. The crowd was loving every bit of it as every clean exchange drew more cheers.

  The Astaria mage was starting to slow down. His casting got messy, mana fatigue catching up with all the spells he’d thrown. His flight was getting sloppy—he wasn’t dodging as often, and he wobbled every time he tried to cast too quickly.

  So flying takes a lot of mana, huh? Good to know, I suppose. But I don’t think I’ll have the same issue as this guy. He’s burning out kinda fast, isn’t he?

  Kier noticed as well. He stopped attacking.

  I leaned forward to get a better look.

  Kier hadn’t lowered his staff, but the lightning around him thinned. Residual arcs snapped overhead, but he wasn’t pressing the attack anymore. He was watching. Waiting.

  The Astaria mage noticed the change and took it the wrong way.

  He fired again, two spells back-to-back. Both aimed to keep Kier pinned in pce. Kier dove aside, his wind carrying him further than he could do with physical power alone.

  The mage continued his onsught with another flurry of small mana bsts. Kier dodged and blocked every one of them, missing him by inches. He was barely keeping himself untouched. But that’s all he needed.

  The longer it went on, the clearer it became. The Astaria mage was spending mana every second he stayed airborne. Tiny adjustments. Constant stabilization. Spell after spell, all relentless in their cost.

  “Hey Vi, why doesn’t Kier just fight with his brain more often?”

  “That’s the kind of person he is. I’m not sure he even wants to be here most of the time.”

  “Well, if he manages to get hit and lose at this point, I’m really gonna kill him.”

  The mage tried to climb higher, looking for distance, but his Magic stuttered. His ascent swayed and slowed. He fired another spell from his hands to cover himself, but it came out wild as he tried to regain bance, harmlessly hitting nothing but stone.

  Kier raised his staff with another Magic circle formed on the end of it. The air above the arena twisted as the wind gathered. A storm surrounded the mage, powerful currents pulled at him, dragging him down and halting his movement.

  Lightning traced the wind’s paths, splitting through the air around him and branching through the space around the mage. He formed a barrier on instinct, but the pressure around him twisted his bance.

  Kier stepped forward and brought the staff down. The wind colpsed inward with a loud boom. Lightning surged along with it.

  The mage was flung out of the air. He hit the arena floor hard enough to fracture the stone. He grunted, rolled once, and stopped. His fingers twitched, then went still.

  Then the announcer called it, and the crowd popped.

  I stared out at the field, then at Kier. He stood there, staff lowered, shoulders rising and falling with slow breaths. When he turned back toward us, there was no silly grin. Just relief. Like he’d finally proven something to himself.

  He savored the moment before walking back. Then he stopped in front of me.

  “Satisfied?” he asked.

  I punched his arm hard enough that he bounced off the wall.

  “Ow!”

  “See? You just needed to actually try.” I grinned. “You’re lucky that guy has tiny mana reserves; he almost got you at the end.”

  He rubbed his arm, holding back a smile. “Yeah, whatever.”

  “We’re still down on points but...” I stopped and gave Victoria a visual check. “I guess it’s fine. Vicky won’t lose, right?”

  “Sure.” Victoria gave me a curt answer, normal for her, but this time it was different. She seemed extra focused. I wasn’t even sure she actually understood what I said, just replying automatically. But I trusted her. She didn’t need any pep talks or threats of punishment from me.

  She adjusted her gloves, checked the csp of her cloak, and walked out into the light.

  My gaze followed her walk for a bit, then I caught the spearman heading out to match her. Then the hairs on my arms went stiff. There was a cold stare piercing into me from across the arena. It was Asher gring, but he turned away as soon as our eyes met.

  The spearman seemed cocky, and his smug face didn’t help. He spun his weapon as he walked out, showing off for the crowd. He was about the same height as Victoria, with a spear just as tall.

  My opinion of him... Not very cool. The flying mage was cooler.

  “Show off,” I scoffed.

  “Funny, coming from you. I seem to recall you decring yourself as the world’s best actress,” Kier noted, using his smooth brain to remember stupid details. “Anyway, if he keeps her at bay, she can’t get inside his guard.”

  “Victoria is strong,” I snorted. “She’ll only lose to me.”

  The match started as soon as the downed mage was carried off the field.

  The spearman came out aggressive. He used the length of his weapon to poke and prod, trying to keep Victoria on the defensive. He thrust high, then swept low, kicking up snow with the shaft of his spear.

  Victoria moved with the same grace I’d started to admire. She parried with the ft of her bde and didn’t give him an inch. Each strike she deflected looked effortless. It was supposed to be a fight, but she made it seem like a dissection.

  Cng. Cng. Cng.

  The spearman was growing frustrated. His attacks got rougher, desperate. He pulled back for a heavy, Aura Channeled strike, arms glowing with dense energy.

  Victoria matched him, her own Aura fring silver-white.

  They lunged simultaneously. Victoria stepped into his strike, slipping past the spearhead. Her bde caught his and slid it aside, throwing sparks. The shaft of the spear caught on her guard. She twisted her wrist, used his own momentum to drive his weapon into the dirt, and in the same motion, spun and cracked her elbow into his jaw.

  The impact echoed across the arena. The spearman’s head snapped back. He stumbled, boots scraping stone as he tried to reset.

  He didn’t get the chance. Victoria’s sword was already at his chest, hovering near his heart.

  He dropped his spear.

  The announcer called the fight. “Winner! Victoria Velstrad of Team Aegis!” The roars swallowed the announcer whole. A wave of noise, mixed with adoration, curiosity, and probably a ton of bloodlust.

  Victoria didn’t bow or wave. But she did flick imaginary blood from her bde and sheathed it before turning back toward us.

  Not sure how she got that habit, but at least she won, I guess.

  She walked back toward the tunnel like she was returning from a morning stroll.

  Kier let out a chuckle from beside me and rexed his shoulders that I’d thought might have been stuck tight with tension. “That ties the score. Now you have nobody to bme but yourself, Luna.”

  Victoria stopped in front of us and fshed the tiniest of smiles. Her silver eyes were brighter than usual.

  “What are you looking at me like that for?” I asked.

  She instantly frowned. “Luna, what are you talking about?”

  “Sureee, how was the fight?” I grabbed both of her shoulders and stared.

  She nodded. “He was competent. It was a close fight.”

  I tilted my head at her and scrunched my brows. “I think you’re lying to me to appear more humble than you actually are. Cute. But as long as you enjoyed yourself, I suppose.” I released her and cpped my hands. “Okay, we’ll be walking away as champions today, team.”

  Kier snorted. “You haven’t fought yet.”

  “Exactly,” I replied, stepping past them toward the light. “Which means we’re right on schedule.”

  Victoria caught my arm. “Don’t get reckless.”

  I grinned over my shoulder. “No promises! I’ve got a bunch of new stuff I want to try out.”

  I left the tunnel ready to close out the tournament. Six months of training, and this was the final step.

  Win and bring home a trophy for Elira. No... For mom.

  The word still felt strange in my head. New. But right.

  “LUNA! LUNA! LUNA!”

  A section of the crowd to my left was chanting my name, screaming it. I gnced up. The commoner section. They were stomping their feet, shaking the stands like they could will their energy into me.

  I rolled my neck, feeling the joints pop as I walked to the center of the arena. There was barely any snow left, so it was mostly just stone, but spots of snow that had melted into ice were scattered around the field.

  Slippery and treacherous. Noted.

  Asher stepped out.

  He looked like the stereotypical prince or hero in a storybook. Tall, handsome, sharp eyes, and cd in gleaming armor, I wished I could afford. And the longsword he was holding just made it seem even more unfair, a real enchanted sword, with runes etched along the edge and glowing with soft light. The total opposite of me, with my borrowed sword from wherever the hell it came from, and the academy-provided armor.

  He stopped five paces away. Looked me up and down and lingered on my sword.

  “I heard about your equipment,” he said in that mocking-but-polite tone he’d mastered. “A shame. I would’ve preferred to crush you at full strength.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, stabbing it into the stone. “I can beat you with a tiny little stick if I have to. Or maybe I’ll just kick you again.”

  “You have spirit, I’ll give you that.” His eyes hardened. “But spirit doesn’t win tournaments. Discipline does. Technique does. And this time, I won’t make the mistake of treating you like a novelty Velstrad drags around.”

  He drew his sword. The air around him shimmered. Aura radiated off him, melting the snow around his boots.

  I smiled wide enough to bare my teeth. “Good,” I replied. “Because I’m about to make this really embarrassing for you.”

  I pulled my sword from the ground. Lighter than I wanted, but it would do. I fred my mana. Both cores answered. This time, I kept it controlled.

  “Ready?” the referee shouted, backing away to a safe distance.

  I dropped into a stance, knees bent, sword held out to my side and ready.

  Asher raised his bde, the tip pointed at my eyes. “Show me if you deserve to stand on this stage—or if you’re just another accident waiting to be corrected.”

  The horn bred.