The morning sun stretched its golden arms across the skies of Velmoria, painting the kingdom in brilliant hues of rose and gold. Flags fluttered high from every rooftop, streamers coiled through lamp posts like vines, and laughter echoed through the streets. It was not just another day—it was the day. The Cup of Power Tournament had arrived.
Banners bearing school emblems waved from the balconies, and the fragrance of flowers and roasted meats wafted through the air as thousands made their way toward the colossal stadium carved from silverstone and enchanted crystal.
Inside one of the highest-viewed balconies, Elijah stood beside Alaric in a velvet-lined V.I.P. viewing room, gazing down at the sea of excited faces. The air inside was cool and perfumed, with golden drapes swaying gently in the breeze that flowed in from the open arches.
"They're really cheering," Elijah murmured, eyes wide at the spectacle below.
Alaric gave a small smile. "It's a celebration for more than magic. It's pride, legacy, and power on full display."
Far across the arena, seated among nobility, stood Karl Serpentine, his tall form draped in dark robes. His piercing green eyes were fixed on Elijah—not with hostility, but unreadable curiosity. Elijah, unaware of his gaze, focused instead on the sudden hush that fell over the crowd.
Trumpets sounded—a bold, victorious melody. The stadium turned their attention to the royal entrance platform.
There, flanked by royal guards in golden armor, walked King Rudolf Arakavas of Velmoria. He was striking, with long curling black hair cascading over his crimson cape and piercing yellow eyes that gleamed like suns. Beside him walked his daughter, Princess Cilie Arakavas, her wavy blue hair glistening like ocean tide under daylight. Her eyes, golden like her father's, surveyed the crowd with quiet authority.
Alaric leaned toward Elijah. "That's Rudolf Arakavas—the Third Rank Monarch. His kingdom's essence pool rivals even the old empires."
Elijah blinked. "Third rank…? That high?"
"Only two monarchs stand above him," Alaric replied. "And none in Velmoria question his rule."
Rudolf raised a hand, and the stadium hushed instantly. His voice, deep and commanding, rang out like rolling thunder.
"Mages of tomorrow, today you stand at the crossroads of destiny! This tournament is not a mere game of power, but a trial of will, unity, and purpose. You stand as representatives of your schools, your cities, your homes! Let your magic be the voice of your soul. Let the world see the fire in your hearts.
Win or lose—show us your truth."
A thunderous applause followed. Elijah felt goosebumps on his arms. Even through his illness, the energy of the crowd stirred something deep inside.
The king then extended his hand. "Let the contestants present themselves!"
A parade of students entered the arena, four groups strong, each marching behind their school's flag.
Alaric pointed from above. "That's Constantine, our school. Behind them—Rosania. Then Arcadia. And lastly, Howarth."
Elijah frowned. "Only four schools?"
Alaric nodded. "To enter the Cup of Power is no simple feat. Out of hundreds of academies, only these four made the final cut."
A voice behind them chimed in, laced with icy sarcasm.
"That's why ten minutes is all they get." Karl had approached, arms folded.
Elijah turned. "Ten minutes to showcase magic?"
Karl nodded. "That's why it's called the Cup of Power. You don't show strength by prolonging. You show it through precision, impact, and control."
Soon, the judge stood at the center of the arena, his voice magically amplified.
"Let the First Round begin—Magic Showcase. Each group will present their core strength within ten minutes. Any delay will result in disqualification."
1st: Rosania Academy
Rosania entered with grace. Their robes shimmered in shades of silver and pearl. Their magic was elegant—like dance. Spells bloomed like flowers. One girl formed a dome of frozen rain that danced in the air, refracting sunlight into a thousand colors. A male mage conjured a phantasmal beast that roared across the arena before fading in a shower of light. Their performance was fluid and poetic—grace and beauty over brute force.
2nd: Arcadia Academy
Arcadia took a different route. Their magic focused on fusion and chemistry. Students performed synchronized spells—lightning interwoven with wind, flames turned into crystalline blades. The crowd marveled at their precision, but the judges' expressions remained unreadable. They lacked the 'wow' moment, but displayed innovation.
3rd: Howarth Academy
Howarth's team marched in with a soldier's discipline. Dark red uniforms, metal trim. Their magic was explosive. The arena quaked as stone pillars erupted from the ground. One mage bent the air into a vortex, launching arrows of fire through a rotating cyclone. Their power was raw, devastating, and loud. The crowd roared with them. They felt like a threat.
4th: Constantine High
Daud led the group with his hand raised high, flames spiraling around his fingers. Beside him, Ayn summoned a massive storm cloud that hovered over their circle, while Sylphira sang—a melody that channeled essence, turning the flames into crimson birds soaring through the cloud. Anna created mirror constructs that refracted each spell for a visual illusion, while Drake raised the ground beneath them, lifting the team high into the air like a floating stage.
For a moment, Elijah forgot to breathe. It was creative, powerful—and deeply united.
As they finished, the cloud dispersed in a sparkle of mana dust, and the crowd clapped.
Karl gave a half-smirk. "Not bad… for students."
Soon after, the judges convened and announced the scores.
"1st Place: Howarth Academy.
2nd Place: Rosania Academy.
3rd Place: Constantine High.
4th Place: Arcadia Academy."
Gasps and murmurs erupted from the crowd. Daud exhaled sharply. Sylphira looked disheartened. Drake clenched his fist, but didn't speak.
Elijah looked to Alaric. "They were incredible. Why third?"
Alaric shrugged. "Politics. Or maybe raw power speaks louder than creativity in this round."
As the teams returned to the waiting zones, Elijah spotted Karl once more in the stands, his eyes sharp, unreadable.
Something told him… this tournament would be much more than just a test of strength.