The late afternoon sun cast golden rays across the arena, but the warmth in the sky couldn't reach the tension blooming in the Smith family balcony.
Alice's fingers clenched the railing, knuckles pale.
"Will he be alright?" she whispered. Her eyes followed the gates across the field, searching for a glimpse of her son.
"He'll be fine," Rudeous said quietly, though his voice lacked conviction. "He always is."
Even he couldn't hide the tightness in his jaw. Darius had already fallen. If Logan lost as well, House Smith would be remembered not for its heirs—but for its failures.
Mirena stood slightly behind them, lips pursed in silent thought. Let the boy fall, she mused. One more defeat, and Darius's path will be clear again. Prestige is a fragile thing… and easily redirected.
The gallery stirred the moment the match was announced.
"Oh-ho! The boy wonder returns!" Rovan Yale leaned forward with a grin. "Let's see what he's really made of. I couldn't enjoy his match in the first round. He better not ruin my expectations."
Marquess Yale chuckled. "He was a surprise, I admit. But Wynn isn't just some academy brat. She's got poise. Discipline."
Alek Albrecht crossed his arms, stone-faced. "Smith's boy… he's not ordinary for sure. Watch closely." He told the nobles beside him
From another corner of the balcony, Noah Starwind murmured, "I am curious to know more about him. Though he is the same age as Lilith, his movements… those confident eyes… strong yet curious expression… all indicate he's definitely hiding a lot."
Emily Starwind remained silent, her eyes focused on the gates. She shared the same thoughts as her husband. As seasoned adventurers, their instincts were sharp. And their sixth sense screamed every time Logan's name was mentioned.
"He is not normal."
From the south gate, Lira Wynn stepped onto the stage.
Her movements were elegant, almost too smooth—like a feather riding the wind. She wore no expression, only calm detachment. Her silver-white hair flowed behind her, and her sharp gray eyes swept the arena once before settling into stillness. No nerves. No arrogance. Just silence.
From the opposite gate, Logan emerged—cloak fluttering slightly as he walked. As he stepped forward, his hand rose, and he lowered his hood, unveiling calm but excited eyes.
He met Lira's gaze. No words exchanged. Just the quiet understanding between two fighters.
"This time too, I'll only use lightning and air," Logan thought. "The less I reveal, the fewer enemies I'll make."
Down at the betting corner, Albert was in rare form.
"Alright folks! This one's hard to call! The quiet wind goddess versus the stormborn upstart! Who's betting on a shocker today, eh?"
Gold coins clinked. Voices rose. But the energy felt tighter than before—tainted with tension.
The referee raised his hand.
"Contestants—ready?"
Two nods.
"Begin!"
The moment froze briefly, then a hum rippled through the air.
The crowd roared.
Lira moved first. A burst of wind launched her forward, blades of compressed air swirling in her palms. She slashed horizontally—twice, three times—each strike sharp and invisible.
Logan moved between them, feet gliding across the arena with wind-boosted grace. A flick of his wrist unleashed a crackling bolt—Lira barely dodged, singed fabric fluttering around her shoulder.
They danced.
Another exchange—Lira's blades met Logan's spiraling lightning arcs. Her attacks were fast, but his were faster. Controlled. Focused.
BOOM!
A crackling jab struck Lira's ribcage. She slid back, blood trailing from the corner of her mouth.
She lunged again—only to take a spinning air-kick to the shoulder. Another hit.
The crowd gasped.
"She can't even touch him."
"Two hits already! He's not even breaking a sweat!"
But Logan felt something was off.
Is she really just a Tier 2 mage? Her power feels beyond even some Tier 3s…
He was struggling more than expected—especially with only two Tier 1 affinities in play.
But to the audience, Logan seemed firmly in control.
In the balcony, Alice covered her mouth. Rudeous nodded slightly, finally seeing hope.
Mirena, however, frowned.
On the stage, Lira stood still, her eyes narrowed. "Damn it! You're telling me he's only twelve? There is no way i can defeat him like this"
And then…
In her mind, a voice echoed—
"Only use this if absolutely necessary. On Prince Rowan. Not before."
She remembered King Malrik's advisor. The black case. The Tranquilin Needle. The warning.
And yet—
If I can't defeat Logan now… I'll never make it to Rowan.
Her eyes flicked to the needle strapped to her thigh beneath her robe. She made her decision.
"Just once. One small opening." She thought.
She exhaled—and charged.
Logan moved to counter.
She dipped low, swung wide— and saw his hand coming—just as planned. She took the full force of his palm to her side.
Blood flew from her lips as she spun—but her hand moved faster.
Prick!
A flash of pain lanced through Logan's wrist.
He paused.
A sting—like a mosquito bite.
He looked down.
A drop of blood slid down his arm.
Lira crashed to the ground, coughing, her face twisted in pain.
Logan tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. That last attack had felt too easy. She hadn't even tried to dodge.
Still… he saw no spell. No hidden weapon.
Maybe she's slipping - exhausted from the fight.
But in the shadow of her fall, Lira exhaled deeply.
"It's done."
The needle had struck.
"Your mana… is about to vanish, prodigy boy. What a shame. You're just another victim of someone else's plot. You could've easily made it to the finals. Better luck next time… if you're still alive."
She whispered beneath her breath.
She rose slowly. Blood streaked her chin, but her hands glowed brightly now. Wind spiraled around her louder than ever.
"I'm ending this," she announced.
The crowd leaned forward.
Logan raised his hand, ready to cast a spell.
"Air wall—"
But suddenly…
Nothing.
His hand trembled. His left eye twitched. No mana flowed.
He blinked. Tried again.
Still… nothing.
His heart skipped a beat.
Why… can't I cast?
Lira was already charging.
Panic flickered in Logan's eyes—not fear, but…
Regret.
Is this… how I'm going to lose? I wanted to face the others. Did I not train hard enough?
But before the answer could come—
CRACK!
Lira's spell landed. A condensed spear of wind, sharp as a blade, pierced Logan's chest.
And in that fleeting second, he realized—this wasn't a yield spell.
It was a killing move.
A Tier 4 attack…
So the reason I couldn't use my mana…
BOOM!
The blast launched him ten feet into the air.
He hit the ground hard—skidding across stone, carving a crater.
Dust exploded.
Silence.
The stadium froze.
Alice screamed. Rudeous's fists clenched.
Mirena's eyes widened… then slowly narrowed, hiding her glee.
And in the center of the dust-filled crater, Logan's body lay—
To be continued__