Chapter 287: Completely M.I.A
The competition platform was alive once again.
Lancet sat in his Class Group sector, surrounded by his fellow Summoners, while the noise of the crowd washed over him.
As usual, hundreds of voices blended into a single, rolling thunder vibrating in his chest. Banners representing each Class Group snapped in the wind that channeled through the open roof.
Beside him, Kasto watched his friend intensely, almost like he was studying a puzzle. He had been quiet for most of the pre-event buildup, but Lancet could feel the question building in his friend like pressure in a sealed bottle.
"So," Kasto said finally. "Really. Where were you for the past five days?"
Lancet kept his gaze forward. "I told you already."
"Yeah, you said you locked yourself in a training room and refused to leave until you got better and stronger." Kasto turned to face him now, his expression caught between skepticism and concern. "But Amira and Min Tu said you never returned to the dorm once. Not a single time. You’ve been completely MIA."
"Like I said. I was training."
"For five days straight? Without sleeping in your own bed?"
"I napped on the floor."
Kasto stared at him for a long moment. Then, he used a simple appraisal Skill, one of the basic techniques most students picked up in their first year.
His brow furrowed.
"But what is the difference?" he asked, genuinely confused. "You didn’t level up. You’re still at Level 25, same as you were just before you disappeared."
Lancet turned to look at his friend. Then smiled. "You’ll know the difference when you see it."
Kasto watched him return his gaze back to the field.
What was up with him?
He remembered the duel Lancet had with Renan Falconhart. Lancet lost as expected and the next day, he was evidently affected because of it.
Was it because he knew he was facing Renan again that he had embarked on this solitary journey? Had the prospect of another loss driven him to lock himself away for five days, pushing himself to some unknown limit?
Kasto didn’t ask. But he filed the thought away.
The speaker’s voice boomed across the colosseum.
"Students, faculty, and honored guests of Awakener Supreme!"
The crowd roared in response, clapping their hands and chanting.
"Welcome to the seventh challenge of the Inter-Class Competitions!"
Another roar. Banners waved. Students stamped their feet. The noise was deafening.
"This challenge has consistently been ranked as the most exciting event in the entire competition’s history!" The speaker thrilled.
"It is not a bracket tournament. It is a table point system! Each of the four Class Groups will field three participants. Every Class Group will fight the other three groups directly. That means each group will complete three fights total before the event concludes!"
The scoreboards shifted, displaying the tournament structure in clean, glowing lines. Four columns. Three matches each. Points waiting to be claimed.
"The rules are simple. A win in any fight awards your Class Group one hundred points. The group with the most total points, a maximum of three hundred if they win all three matches, wins the event!"
The speaker paused, letting the anticipation build.
"But there is one key restriction that makes this challenge truly legendary. Summoners must fight personally. No Summons are allowed. No hiding behind stronger beings." His voice dropped, becoming grave. "Fighters go one-on-one, alone, with nothing but their own skill, their own power, and their own will to carry them to victory."
The crowd erupted. Summoners in their sector exchanged nervous glances. Elementalists cheered. Enhancers pounded their fists against the seats. Specialists looked more prepared than anything.
Lancet felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Miss Maecil standing at the end of the row, her expression a mixture of warmth and urgency. She gestured for him to follow.
He gave Kasto a fist bump and rose from his seat. He made his way down the tiered steps, past rows of Summoner students who watched him pass with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright awe.
He reached the front table where the Summoner-D representatives were seated. The table was positioned at the very edge of the arena, close enough to feel the latent magic humming through the crystal-blue plates.
There were three chairs, two of which were already occupied.
Min Tu Akaran sat on the left. Her dark hair was gathered in a double bun, and her expression was its usual mask of mild irritation.
She looked at Lancet as he approached, her eyes tracking him from the corner of her vision without turning her head.
Luke sat in the farthest chair. He had been staring at the arena floor, his posture rigid, his face still carrying the shadow of his defeat against Renan.
But when Lancet pulled out the chair to his left and sat down, Luke’s eyes shifted toward him.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Luke’s voice came. "So. What legend did you summon to help you with your training?"
Lancet raised an eyebrow, still looking ahead at the arena. "Would you look at that? You’re talking to me now?"
Luke grunted. "Just answer the question."
Lancet allowed himself a small smile. "You’ll find out later."
Min Tu eyed Lancet with the corner of her eyes then sighed angrily. She forced herself to speak. "Welcome back."
Lancet turned to look at her. She was still facing forward, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
He realized himself and smiled apologetically. "Hey, Minnie."
Her eye twitched at the nickname. "Whatever." She shifted in her seat, still not looking at him. "It’s good to have you back."
Before Lancet could respond, the speaker’s voice boomed across the platform once more.
"Our first match of the tournament!"
The crystal-blue plates in the arena floor pulsed with sudden light, their latent magic flaring as the combat ground stabilized. The drone cameras swooped into position, their lenses zooming toward the two entrances on opposite sides of the arena.
"Representing Elementalist-D... Frieda Castleloft!"
The Elementalist-D section erupted. Frieda stepped out of the entrance and onto the crystal-blue floor, her flame-colored hair whipping behind her from the dramatic wind.
Despite Frieda being one of the powerful students in Class Group-D and the most powerful in Elementalist-D, she was being chosen to face Min Tu rather than Renan Falconhart or someone in the Specialist Class that would have definitely been more difficult than someone in the Summoner Class.
This meant that Lancet was right.
Miss Maecil gave him a sweet look that said well done.
Even more, the reason for this was evident. Frieda’s shoulders were tight. Her steps were hesitant. Her eyes darted toward the opposing entrance, then toward her section where Professor Phiodor Blaze stood watching her with a glare that could have melted steel.
Frieda’s poor control of her overpowered ability had been her constant dilemma, hanging over her like a shadow that never lifted.
Min Tu was Level 14 and she was Level 15, so she was better than her opponent on paper. But levels meant nothing if you could not control what you unleashed. And Phiodor’s gaze made it clear: he would not accept failure from her this time.
"Representing Summoner-D... Min Tu Akaran!"
Summoner students cheered as Min Tu rose from her seat gracefully. She walked toward the arena floor, her dark energy already coiling around her fingers like invisible smoke.
Even though she was a Necromancer, Lancet remembered seeing Min Tu fight during the Token coins competition. She was a very capable combatant.
She stepped onto the crystal-blue plates and faced Frieda.
The two young women stood opposite each other, the vast arena stretching around them, the hundreds of spectators watching in breathless anticipation.
Frieda took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down and focus on the moment.
For Min Tu, Necromancer, it was difficult to know when she was nervous or courageous. She mostly looked annoyed at something all the time. And Frieda felt like it was her she was annoyed at this time.
At the Elementalist section, Professor Phiodor Blaze watched with arms crossed, face still stern..
At the Summoner section, Maecil cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Give it all you’ve got, Min Tu!"
Phiodor looked at her and Maecil looked at him. Their glares locked, filled with years of their intense rivalry.
The speaker’s voice rang out one final time.
"Ready? Fight!"
Min Tu summoned her daggers from her sheath using dark energy.
Frieda lit her hands with great balls of fire, sizzling and hungry for flesh.
They ran toward each other.
Flames trailing. Shadows coiling. The distance between them collapsing with every heartbeat.
Then they pulled back their attacking hands, ready to strike.