The magic circle beneath him exploded upward — a sequence built into his movent from the first step he’d taken on the platform.
A trap Varn had never noticed.
It didn’t burn.
It didn’t shatter.
It folded.
The stone twisted under Varn’s feet, rising like fingers to grab his legs, locking him in place.
Then Elias flicked two fingers—
A wind magic bomb detonated behind Varn’s left ear.
Boooooom!!
The referee called it.
"Stop! Combatant Varn is incapacitated. Victory: Elias Verdan!"
The crowd erupted.
This ti, the cheers weren’t confused.
They were raw.
Real.
Frenzied.
The boy who had ghosted through the Maze...
Dictated a team’s synergy without shouting...
Had just dismantled one of Crowgarth’s hardest hitters without a single visible wound.
And barely touched him.
The battle had barely even lasted three minutes and just like that, Elias had once again proven himself.
Reiz exhaled.
"Alright," he muttered. "Now they’re scared."
Renna nodded, eyes wide. "And they should be. We’ll go next. Let’s show them what we’ve got."
In the Dean’s viewing wing, Godsthorn finally rose.
He stepped forward to the rail, looking down as Elias walked off the field, calm as ever, not looking back once.
And under his breath, Dean Godsthorn said one thing...
"Let the board rearrange itself."
~~~~~
Reiz won his match and so did Renna but Cael wasn’t so lucky.
Wyrre’s last participant, Tenn Falharn, had dropped his opponent with a surprise compression rune layered inside a fire magic circle—an unstable construct that should’ve shattered on use, but sohow stabilized long enough to explode at full force.
The crowd roared.
Tenn fell to one knee, grinning.
Then his eyes rolled back.
And he collapsed.
It happened so quickly that most of the audience mistook it for dramatics. Only the announcer, and a few sharp-eyed instructors, noticed the limpness in Tenn’s limbs.
The silence was brief.
Then the dics arrived in a blur of robes and stabilizing spells.
One scan later, the announcer’s voice dropped an octave.
"Participant Tenn Falharn has suffered a full core strain collapse. Magic essence vessel integrity is stable, but he is unfit to continue."
Gasps rippled through the stands.
A minute later, a chi sounded that only the Deans could hear.
High above the arena, inside the magic-shielded pavilion built for deliberations and crisis oversight, the four Deans t in a silent, pressurized room — a space sealed from even the instructors’ knowing.
And for the first ti that day, tension spiked among them.
"I had no notice of a potential collapse," Dean of Dethrein said coldly, arms folded, expression like stormclouds.
Dean of Thornevale nodded, her fingers drumming the side of her chair. "Tenn was stable after his match. There were no markers."
Godsthorn remained quiet, studying Oryll.
Oryll sat back, eyes calm.
He looked... pleased.
"An unfortunate incident," he said at last. "Wyrre prides itself on unpredictability."
"That’s not unpredictability," Seren snapped. "That’s preditated substitution."
Oryll smiled faintly. "We had... contingencies. A standby participant. Registered within the bracket system two days ago."
Dethrein narrowed his eyes. "You anticipated failure."
"No," Oryll said smoothly. "I anticipated strain."
Godsthorn finally spoke.
"And this replacent?"
Oryll’s tone didn’t change. "A student with... peculiar aptitude."
Thornevale’s Dean stiffened. "Na?"
"Kellen Drein."
Godsthorn’s eyes narrowed slightly. "The mimic?"
Oryll’s smile deepened. "Imitation is the highest form of adaptation."
The room fell still.
Kellen Drein.
A Wyrre student not listed on the initial roster. Rumored to possess a rare form of imitative essence mory—the ability to replicate any technique he could understand, albeit in a weakened form.
A flawed copycat.
But his mana reserves were pretty large and his endurance was off the charts.
If he used a technique once, it didn’t just mimic—it amplified, reshaped to his massive essence pool.
Weak copy?
Not when the engine behind it could outlast yours.
Dean of Thornevale exhaled through her nose. "This was your plan."
Oryll inclined his head. "This is my academy."
Godsthorn looked toward the bracket holograms, where the update was already etching itself into the platform.
Substitution Confird: Wyrre – Kellen Drein replaces Tenn Falharn.
"Fine," Godsthorn said at last. "But he follows the order already drawn."
"And he’ll face who he must," Dethrein added, tone sharp. He was already pissed that Elias was dominating the finals and now, Oryll was making substitutions.
Oryll gave them both a mild nod. "Of course."
But there was the glint of sothing more in his eyes.
Like he’d just slipped a blade between the folds of a robe and dared no one to notice.
Back in the arena, the crowd saw the new na appear — so murmuring, most confused.
"Who’s Kellen?"
"Was he even in the Maze?"
"Why now?"
But no answers ca.
Only an updated roster and a fresh match-up for the second round.
In the ElderGlow prep wing, Reiz adjusted the straps on his bracers, watching the floating nas above the hallway.
"New na," Cael muttered, frowning. He wasn’t going to join the next round but he was still with the others.
Renna narrowed her eyes. "Kellen Drein?"
"I’ve heard of him," Reiz said. "Wyrre keeps him off the board. He’s not flashy."
Cael snorted. "He a healer?"
"No," Reiz murmured. "He’s worse."
Elias stepped beside them, eyes following the na as it stabilized.
"He learns," he said softly.
"What?"
Elias tilted his head. "Whatever he sees. Whatever he understands. He becos it."
Cael raised a brow. "So... he’s like you?"
Elias said nothing but shook his head.
Kellen stepped onto the platform for his debut match a few monts later.
He wore standard Wyrre combat robes. His expression was unreadable, and his essence... dull.
Not sharp.
Not aggressive.
Just vast.
A void filled with fog.
His opponent—a high-blood youth from a desert sect near the edge of the continent—approached with confident fire glyphs stitched into every motion.
He struck first.
A blistering chain of fla waves.
Kellen dodged none.
He watched.
And when the final strike ca—an overhead magic circle ant to cleave his barrier—Kellen copied it.
But his version was slower.
Heavier.
Wider.
And when it landed, it cracked the platform beneath his opponent’s feet and sent the boy flying into the barrier wall.
Bang!!
"Winner: Kellen Drein."
Just like that.
Up above, Godsthorn watched without blinking.
"That one’s going to be a problem."
The final match of Round One ca and went.
Then, the bracket re-ford.
Sixteen beca eight.
And the nas for Round Two began to appear.
Reiz stepped forward when the bell rang, stretching one arm, then the other. Cael clapped his shoulder with a tired grin. "Don’t get folded, captain."
Renna smiled. "If he copies you, make sure he copies the losing part."
Elias said nothing. But his eyes lingered on Reiz for just a mont longer than usual.
And Reiz nodded. "I’ve got this."
The bracket flashed.
Round Two | Duel Two
ELDERGLOW: Reiz Varren
vs.
WYRRE: Kellen Drein
The match was set.
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