Chapter 290: No Surprise
"Ladies and gentlemen," the speaker rushed to dissolve the chaos, "a minor containment issue has been resolved. The barrier is fully operational. We extend our apologies to those affected and our gratitude to the medical team for their swift response."
He paused, allowing the crowd to settle to their seats. "Now, let us bring our focus back to the competition. With that spectacular victory, Frieda Castleloft earns one hundred points for Elementalist-D!"
A few people clapped, but the overall mood had been poisoned by what had just happened.
Professor Phiodor still stood with arms crossed and barely an expression on his face. His eyes moved to the scoreboard, where Elementalist-D had just taken the lead.
That satisfied him.
Up on the golden table, Dean Ordenance leaned back in his chair and studied the Elementalist professor with something close to disgust.
"Does Phiodor have a glimpse of empathy in his body?"
Headmistress Danistasia Ardental sitting beside him looked down at the instructor. "Mhm. On that, you and I agree, Dean Ordenance."
The Dean glanced at her, surprised.
Who would have expected the Ice Witch to agree with him here? Empathy was not a word often associated with her.
"Even I know when it is important to tend to a person," she continued, her voice cool. "If not for the fact that they are your students, then at least for the fact that they are your greatest asset."
She paused, her gaze settling on the unmoving Phiodor with something that looked very much like contempt. "He is self-absorbed and, worse, foolish."
Dean Ordenance nearly laughed. When Danistasia wasn’t scheming, her plain use of words was genuinely funny. "No surprise he has never been promoted."
Danistasia’s expression did not change. "No surprise," she agreed.
The tournament continued.
The crystal-blue plates reset with a pulse of magic, the scorch marks and cracks smoothing over until the arena floor was pristine once more.
The drone cameras repositioned and the crowd’s attention slowly returned to the competition.
"Next match! Representing Specialist-D, Sienna Starbridge! Representing Enchanter-D, Amira Vineheart!"
Sienna, now at Lvl 16, had seemingly grown a lot in her fluidity and speed. Throughout the battle, she basically moved like water, flowing across the arena and losing arrows in rapid, graceful volleys that filled the air with streaks of gold and red.
Her arrows curved when they needed to, tracked Amira everywhere until she eventually had to spend Grace to shield herself.
Sienna was fast, precise, and relentless.
But Amira clearly had the edge throughout the course of the battle.
She used Grace to forge all sorts of weapons to defend and offend. Shields to block attack, gauntlets to protect her face, swords to lunge and even a powerful Grace Spear she hurled at supersonic speed.
It almost impaled Sienna had she not rolled out of the way.
The two young women traded blows for several minutes, neither giving ground, neither backing down. Sienna’s arrows found gaps in Amira’s defenses. Amira’s constructs shattered Sienna’s rhythm.
Lancet watched from the Summoner table, his chin resting on his knuckles. He could already see who was going to win.
Amira, did. If it wasn’t already obvious.
She feinted with a Grace-blade and drew Sienna’s arrow. Then she followed-up with a blast of raw concussive force and caught the Archer square in the chest.
Sienna hit the ground, rolled. When she tried to rise, she found Amira’s boot on her bow.
"And Vineheart takes the match! One hundred points for Enchanter-D!"
The standings shifted. Specialist-D still held their hundred. Enchanter-D joined them. The race was tightening.
"Next match! Representing Specialist-D, Kallan Kallahan! Representing Elementalist-D, Morras!"
Kallan stepped onto the arena floor with swagger, lightning crackled all around him erratically.
He was Level 15 now, only a small growth but good enough.
Morras was his opposite in every way. From what Lancet knew, Morras was a pretty chill guy.
He was a Vanguard Knight, Level 14, clad in bulky plate armor that gleamed under the arena lights. Kallan was taunting him but Morras didn’t retaliate. He simply planted his feet and waited.
The speaker called the start.
Kallan rushed forward with a thunderclap. Lightning bolts screamed from his palms, wild and unrefined, striking Morras’s shield in showers of blue-white sparks.
He poured everything he had into an overwhelming assault, convinced that sheer power would be enough.
Morras activated his shield. It lit up and absorbed all of the lightning, his armor grounded the current, and his feet did not move an inch.
The match went on this way and only when Kallan exhausted his first volley and paused to catch his breath, did the Vanguard Knight advance.
Kallan panicked and unleashed another bolt. Morras caught it on his shield and kept walking.
Kallan’s lightning grew more desperate, more erratic, and then Morras was close enough to strike.
He used shield bash on him, first activating Giant Form with his army and making himself look much larger than he naturally was. Then, with no way to run, Kallan was bashed with the golden shield and sent flying backward.
He hit the ground hard, his lightning dying in his palms, and before he could rise, Morras was standing over him with the edge of his shield pressed gently against his throat.
"Match to Morras! One hundred points for Elementalist-D!"
Lancet watched Kallan rise, sputtering and furious, already shouting at the referee about something. He was probably claiming Morras had cheated, or that the barrier had interfered, or that the sun had been in his eyes.
Kallan had a hundred excuses for every failure, and not one of them had ever been true.
"Summoner-D versus Enchanter-D! Luke Travers versus Jon-Mark!"
Luke immediately stepped onto the field. He was at Level 17 now which was good to see.
However, Jon-Mark was a Rune Maker at Level 16. Rune Makers although support classes were no pushovers. Giving things powers through runes was very OP if one knew how to draw really really fast.
And Jon-Mark did.
He already drew on his hand for strength and leg for speed. He’d drawn on the ground beneath his feet to make it a trap.
Luke got tired of waiting and immediately attacked. To Lancet’s surprise, Jon-Mark was vanquished in what was the fastest match of the tournament.
Just the third swing of his hammer sent the Rune Maker stumbling backward, his runes crumbling before they could fully form.
’Luke has really mastered how to use that hammer huh?’
"Match to Travers! One hundred points for Summoner-D!"
The crowd cheered, but Luke did not celebrate. He walked off the field with his jaw tight and his eyes downcast. The victory had been too easy. Not the kind of victory he wanted.
Lancet understood.
The next match came and went. Elementalist-D versus Enchanter-D.
Leslie Letterknight, the Ice Mage with hair the color of fresh snow, took the victory after defeating the Enchanter representative.
The hundred points went to Elementalist-D without much contest.
The scoreboard updated, and the numbers told the story:
Specialist-D: 100
Elementalist-D: 200
Enchanter-D: 100
Summoner-D: 100
No outright winner yet. But the math was simple. If Summoner-D won their next match, they would stand at two hundred points alongside Elementalist-D. A tie for the top.
The speaker’s voice rose above the murmuring crowd, amplified by magic and anticipation.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the next match will determine the fate of the leaderboard. Representing Summoner-D, Lancet Leogardt!"
Lancet was surprised by the amount of cheers he got. The noise rose in a wave of sound that shook the floating scoreboards and made the brass-plated drone cameras wobble in the air.
"His opponent. Representing Specialist-D. The Heavenly Knight. Renan Falconhart!"
Renan’s cheer was probably louder, but they were both praised loudly. Their match was the most anticipated amongst the others it seemed.
Lancet saw Renan come out of the tunnel just in time. Then, he rose from his seat and their eyes locked.