The two days leading up to the tournament passed in a blur of preparation and tension. Eryon trained relentlessly, pushing his body and spirit to their limits. He practiced not only his sword techniques but also focused on breathing exercises and reaction drills Ardyn had once demonstrated on the road. His opponent, Kor Valor, remained a mystery—a muscular youth with a quiet, brooding presence and the bearing of a brawler honed by real experience.
The morning of the battle arrived, and the arena roared with anticipation. Thousands of students filled the stands, excited to witness the opening match of the First-Year Tournament. In the center of the massive coliseum, sunlight poured over smooth stone tiles, illuminating the battleground where lives would be changed.
Professor Kaelen's voice boomed across the arena. "Match one: Eryon Solaris versus Kor Valor. Competitors, enter the arena."
Eryon stepped into the ring, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Across from him, Kor approached with a calm, almost emotionless expression. His dark eyes locked onto Eryon with calculating focus.
"Begin."
Kor shot forward like a hammer, fists wrapped in coarse bandages glowing faintly from an unknown energy source. Eryon sidestepped, drawing his sword in a smooth motion and parrying a brutal punch that cracked the ground beneath them.
The battle was a storm of speed and strength. Kor's unrelenting pressure forced Eryon to adapt, using precision and footwork to avoid being overwhelmed. Each clash of fist and steel sent shockwaves into the stands.
But gradually, Eryon's strategy began to emerge. He focused on exploiting Kor's over-committed attacks, creating small openings. His sword began to sing through the air—fast, sharp, purposeful.
A sweeping leg strike from Kor caught Eryon off guard, sending him tumbling. But Eryon rolled back onto his feet and, in a fluid motion, countered with a rising arc of fire-infused steel that forced Kor onto the defensive for the first time.
The crowd erupted.
Eryon's aura began to shimmer faintly red. It wasn't true fire cultivation—not yet—but his connection to the element burned with clarity. He pressed forward.
Blow after blow pushed Kor back. A final spinning slash disarmed him, sending the gauntlet on his right arm flying across the ring.
Kor dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
"Enough!" Kaelen declared. "Victory: Eryon Solaris."
Cheers roared from the crowd. Eryon lowered his blade, panting, his arms trembling from exertion. Across from him, Kor gave a small nod—acknowledgment, not resentment.
As Eryon walked back toward the resting area, his eyes lifted to the observation deck above the arena.
There, standing like a silent judge, was Vaen Solarius.
Watching.
Unblinking.
Just beside him, equally silent but no less intense, stood Alice Dawnmere.
Her gaze hadn't left Eryon once throughout the entire match.