"Next match!" Professor Ashton called. "Verelia and Thomas!"
Alaric’s attention sharpened.
Verelia walked into the ring with that sa chanical precision, her expression completely neutral. Her opponent, Thomas, a boy from the other first-year class, looked confident.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, like soone who clearly spent ti in physical training.
They took their positions.
"Begin!"
Thomas rushed forward imdiately, trying to close the distance before Verelia could establish control. Smart strategy against a mage, just get inside their casting range, force them into close combat where they’re weaker.
Except Verelia wasn’t a typical mage.
Her hand moved in a single, precise gesture.
And the temperature in the ring plumted instantly. Frost spread across the mat in a perfect circle around her, expanding outward like a shockwave.
Thomas’s charge faltered as ice ford beneath his feet. His footing gave out, montum carrying him into an uncontrolled slide.
Verelia stepped forward, towards him.
Her other hand traced a pattern in the air. Ice crystallized out of nothing, forming a wall directly in Thomas’s path.
He hit it face-first with a wet thud, dropping to the mat.
Before he could recover, Verelia was there. She placed one hand on his shoulder, and ice spread from the point of contact, creeping up his arm, across his chest, locking his joints in frozen grip.
Not enough to cause frostbite. But enough to completely immobilize him.
The entire exchange took forty-three seconds.
Thomas tried to move, but found himself completely locked, and wisely chose survival.
"I yield!"
The ice vanished instantly, sublimating into mist.
Verelia stepped back, expression unchanged, as if she’d done nothing more interesting than solve a simple equation.
Professor Ashton nodded approvingly. "Rithvale wins. Excellent control and tactical awareness. Thomas, you made the right decision charging a caster, but you underestimated her close-range capabilities. Dismissed."
The watching students murmured with a mix of awe and wariness.
"That was terrifying," Oliver whispered to Alaric, still nursing his bruises from his own match. "She didn’t even look like she was trying."
"She wasn’t," Alaric said quietly.
Verelia walked past them without acknowledgnt, returning to her isolated spot along the wall.
Perfect.
"Next match!" Professor Ashton consulted her list. "Elina Glimor and Cassian Verne!"
Alaric’s attention shifted.
Elina stepped into the ring from the far side, her scarlet hair catching the light. Her golden eyes were focused, sharp, none of the usual irritation she showed around him. This was different, just pure concentration.
Her opponent, Cassian, was lean and wiry with dark hair and calculating green eyes. He moved with the careful precision of soone who relied on technique over raw power.
They took their positions.
"Begin!"
Cassian didn’t waste ti. His hand swept forward, and wind essence coalesced instantly.
A focused blast of compressed air scread toward Elina.
She didn’t dodge.
Golden light flared around her body, essence coating her skin, her arms, concentrating most heavily around her fists and forearms. The wind blast hit her directly.
And dispersed harmlessly against the golden barrier.
Then Elina charged.
"What the!"
Cassian’s eyes widened. He backpedaled, firing off another wind blade, sharper, more concentrated.
Elina smiled and raised her forearm, the golden coating intensifying. The wind blade struck and shattered against her defense.
She closed the distance in three explosive steps.
Cassian gasped and tried to create space, summoning a wind shield.
But Elina’s fist drove straight through it.
The golden essence coating her knuckles punched through his hasty defense like it was paper. Her fist stopped inches from his face, the displaced air ruffling his hair.
Cassian froze, swallowing hard. "...I yield."
Elina pulled back imdiately, the golden coating fading from her skin. She stepped away without a word, breathing slightly harder but otherwise composed.
Professor Ashton nodded. "Glimor wins. Verne, your technique is solid but you panicked when your initial strategy failed. A body path user closing distance should never surprise a wind mage, you should have contingencies for exactly that scenario. Work on it."
She turned to Elina. "Well executed. Your essence coating is impressively developed for a first-year. But you’re too direct. Against a smarter opponent who expects your charge, you’ll walk into a trap."
Elina nodded, accepting the critique without argunt.
As she left the ring, her eyes briefly t Alaric’s.
The sa smug reaction she used to give him, when to prove she’s better than him.
Then the mont passed, and she moved back to where Lily was standing, resuming her usual irritated deanor.
"Your... sister is scary," Oliver said quietly. "That golden essence thing, what even is that?"
"She’s reinforcing her physical form with essence instead of projecting it externally. Harder to master than typical casting, but extrely effective in close combat." Alaric said.
"And Verelia with that ice..." Oliver shook his head. "I’m surrounded by monsters."
"Welco to Silver Crown," Alaric said with a faint smile.
More matches continued, each revealing the capabilities and weaknesses of their fellow students. So were impressive. Others adequate. A few struggled badly and would need serious work to keep up.
But the two that stood out most clearly were Verelia and Elina.
One with cold, surgical precision that ended fights before they truly began.
The other with raw, direct power that simply overwheld opposition through sheer force.
Different approaches. Different philosophies.
But both devastatingly effective.
Alaric filed away every observation, every detail.
Because in the complex gas being played around him, knowing exactly what pieces were on the board was essential.
Professor Ashton’s voice cut through his thoughts. "Alright, that’s enough for today. You’ve all seen what real combat looks like now. So of you perford well. Others have significant work ahead of them. Next session, we’ll be doing team exercises. Dismissed."
The students began dispersing, conversations erupting as they discussed the matches they’d witnessed.
Alaric gathered his things, already thinking ahead to the next steps in Verelia’s campaign.
But in the back of his mind, a small part of him was focused on sothing else.
On the way Lyria had watched certain matches with that sa tired, guilty expression.
On how Nyra’s combat skills far exceeded anything a normal attendant should possess.
On the strange girl with the tail who’d knocked him unconscious.
Pieces everywhere.
And he still didn’t fully understand the board.
But he would.
Given ti, he always did.
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