"W-What the hell was that?"
"Did you see that casting speed?!"
"That wasn't normal—there's no way that was normal!"
"How much mana does he even have?!"
The questions overlapped, rising from every corner of the stadium, each louder than the last. Confusion bled into disbelief, disbelief into excitement, until the entire arena buzzed with restless energy that refused to settle.
This wasn't the first time Alex had used magic in front of a crowd.
Many present had seen him during the Magic Tower Siege, where his performance had already drawn attention. But this was different. Back then, his opponents had been first-years, and even in victory, there had been an unspoken assumption that he had simply outclassed weaker competition.
Now, that assumption no longer held.
What he had just displayed wasn't merely superior—it was overwhelming, precise to a degree that left little room for comparison. The control, the efficiency, the sheer speed at which he cast and layered his spells—it didn't align with what they understood.
Not for someone who had only recently awakened to magic.
Even within Star Shine Academy's own section, the reaction was no less intense.
Cassian's jaw tightened, his gaze locked onto Alex's retreating figure as he stepped off the stage. The earlier dissatisfaction from his own match had long since faded, replaced by something far more volatile.
Frustration—no, anger.
It simmered beneath the surface, sharp and unrestrained, clashing violently against his pride. He had dismissed Alex, questioned him, pushed for this exact moment—and now that it had come, the result was not something he could easily accept.
'How?'
The question lingered, unanswered and unwelcome.
Nothing about that performance made sense to him.
Vivianne, standing not far from him, remained unusually quiet.
Her gaze followed Alex as well, though the emotion behind it differed entirely. There was no anger—only tension, layered with something far more complex.
She exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening slightly at her side before relaxing again.
'So this is what her training produces.'
Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, toward Elena.
Nearby, Arista watched in silence, her usual gentle expression softened by quiet curiosity. Unlike the others, there was no tension in her gaze—only a calm, thoughtful interest as she observed Alex's composure despite the storm of reactions surrounding him.
'Junior, just how much are you still holding back?'
The question formed naturally, absent of doubt or disbelief.
Draim, beside her, let out a low breath, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes narrowed slightly.
"...So, that's how it is." He murmured, more to himself than anyone else, though the weight behind the words carried quiet understanding.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
The reaction within the stands did not settle into a single narrative.
Among the general audience, the noise only grew louder, though much of it lacked direction. Some scoffed, unwilling to accept what they had seen, dismissing it as exaggeration or trickery. Others questioned it outright, their voices edged with disbelief as they struggled to reconcile expectation with reality.
To them, it felt unnatural—something that didn't quite fit.
But not everyone reacted that way.
High above, within the VIP section, the atmosphere shifted along a very different line of thought. The excitement remained, but it was quieter—controlled, measured, and layered beneath something far more deliberate, filled with interest.
Where the crowd saw spectacle, they saw value. Where others questioned, they analyzed. Their attention wasn't fixed on the match alone, but on what it represented.
Alex, a name that, until recently, had carried little weight in these circles. A commoner—once considered effectively crippled, later diagnosed with mana stenosis—someone who should have remained irrelevant on a stage like this.
And yet—
In the span of a single tournament, that perception had been completely overturned.
The first point was undeniable: his talent.
Not merely above average, not simply noteworthy—but exceptional to a degree that disrupted expectations. The speed of his casting, the precision of his control, the efficiency of his mana usage… none of it aligned with conventional growth, let alone within such a short timeframe.
Which led to the second, far more important question:
How?
Reports had already reached them. His mana stenosis had been cured—a rare occurrence, though not entirely unheard of under a set of very rare specific circumstances. At the time, it had drawn only mild interest.
Now, that same detail carried far greater weight.
Because what followed that cure didn't make sense.
Power of that level did not manifest overnight. Even prodigies required time, structure, and guidance. What Alex displayed suggested not just recovery, but transformation.
And that was valuable.
Some leaned back in their seats, expressions thoughtful, while others exchanged quiet remarks with those beside them. No one raised their voice, yet the implications were clear in the way their gazes lingered on the field.
If there was a method behind it, then it was something worth uncovering.
Whether it could be replicated was secondary.
Even if Alex himself was an exception—a singular case shaped by unique circumstances—that alone made him worth attention. Talent at that level was not something to ignore, let alone dismiss.
Interest shifted quickly, evolving from simple curiosity into something more deliberate.
Below, the crowd continued to buzz, unaware of the subtle shift taking place above them. To most, this was still just a tournament.
But for those watching closely—
This was no longer just about victory or defeat.
It was about potential.
And what could be gained from it.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
Alex had already begun to turn away.
The match was over, the outcome decided cleanly enough that there was no reason to linger. His steps remained steady as he moved toward the edge of the field, the noise of the crowd trailing behind him in a restless mix of disbelief and excitement that had yet to settle.
The announcer drew in a breath, preparing to call the next match—
"Wait."
The single word cut through the air—not loud, yet carrying enough weight to halt the moment before it could move forward.
Alex's steps slowed.
Across the field, Myrra Tempest stepped forward. The instant she re-entered the stage, the focus of the entire arena shifted with her.
She stopped a short distance from the center, her gaze settling directly on Alex.
"You're not stepping down yet, are you?"
Her voice carried clearly despite its calmness, measured and composed, leaving no room for misinterpretation. A brief pause followed before she continued.
"If you're going to fight… then fight me."
Alex remained still.
A faint thought crossed his mind.
'So she's choosing this now.'
It wasn't difficult to understand why.
He had just defeated one of Dawnspire Academy's representatives without effort. Leaving that momentum unchecked would only tilt the match further. If there was a point to intervene—to stabilize, to reclaim control—this was it.
Still, the decision wasn't his to make.
Alex turned his head slightly, his gaze shifting toward Star Shine's side of the field, where Elena stood.
The moment Myrra issued her challenge, the crowd erupted, attention snapping toward Star Shine Academy as anticipation surged through the arena.
Elena nodded without hesitation. If Myrra wanted the challenge, she would have it.
Alex's gaze returned to Myrra, the earlier motion of leaving now completely abandoned.
"Alright." he said calmly.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
Myrra had largely recovered from her earlier fatigue. While not fully restored, she was more than capable of carrying out what she intended to do. More importantly, her decision to return had not been impulsive.
It was calculated.
She had stepped forward for a reason.
Among Dawnspire's team, she was the strongest. If there was anyone who could halt the momentum Alex had created—if there was anyone who could even defeat him—it was her.
They stood opposite each other, settling into position as the arena quieted just enough to anticipate what would come next.
"Myrra Tempest. Dawnspire Academy."
Her introduction was calm, her voice carrying clearly across the field without strain.
Alex gave a small nod in response.
"Alex Blanc. Star Shine Academy."
The formalities ended there.
Myrra studied him for a moment longer before speaking again.
"You've been holding back." She said, her tone even, as if stating an obvious fact rather than making an accusation. "If you think you can win against me using only low-tier spells…"
A slight pause followed, just long enough for the implication to settle.
"Then you don't have a chance."
Her words weren't meant to provoke.
They were measured—grounded in what she had observed.
Up until now, Alex had yet to display anything beyond Tier-3 magic. Every spell he had used, every exchange he had dominated, had been built on lower-tier spells executed with abnormal precision and efficiency. For most opponents, that alone had been enough to overwhelm them.
Which led to a natural conclusion.
That was his limit.
It wasn't an unreasonable assumption.
Tier-4 magic marked a clear divide. Even for those with S-rank talent, learning it took months—let alone applying it effectively in combat.
So the theory spread quickly among the more analytical observers in the audience: Alex had simply perfected what he already knew, pushing lower-tier spells to their limits rather than advancing into higher ones.
A logical conclusion—and from Myrra's perspective, it aligned with what most believed.
"Maybe." Alex replied with a slight shrug, his tone calm, almost indifferent.
Neither confirming nor denying.
The signal was given, and the next instant, the match began.