The grand arena was a storm of sound.
Students pressed against the railings, instructors filled the higher balconies, and vendors wove through the crowd selling everything from meat skewers to mana-infused drinks. The air was thick with the hum of wagers—gold coins clinking, gemstones changing hands, whispered promises of favors.
"Five to one on Reks!" someone shouted."Ten says Kael wins it clean," another barked.
The announcer's voice boomed above the chaos.
"First match of the semifinals—Kael vs. Reks!"
The noise exploded.
Kael walked onto the stage with measured steps, eyes locked on his opponent. His cloak fluttered faintly in the wind that coiled around him, his mana already humming in the air.
Reks Valorin rolled his shoulders, his stance loose but radiating raw power. The faint rumble of earth mana followed him like a heartbeat, each step cracking the arena floor.
They met in the center. No handshake. No words. Only the look of two people who had been waiting for this.
DING.
Kael struck first—wind mana swirling into a concentrated lance of cutting air. Reks caught it on a slab of rising stone, the impact sending shards in all directions.
Kael didn't slow. He wove around the barrier, ice blooming from his fingertips into jagged spikes aimed for Reks' blind spots.
Reks answered with controlled precision—pillars of stone, rippling walls of packed earth, and bursts of flame to melt the ice mid-flight.
For the first few minutes, it was a duel of patience. Kael's wind and ice against Reks' earth and measured fire. They probed, tested, waiting for the other to falter.
Then Reks caught him.
A sudden tremor threw Kael's balance, and a stone fist—twice the size of his head—slammed into his side. The crowd roared as Kael staggered, breath ripping from his lungs.
Reks pressed forward, his strikes heavier, faster. Kael's wind began to fray under the relentless weight.
Kael's jaw tightened. He reached deeper.
The air around him darkened—not in color, but in weight. Shadows lengthened unnaturally, curling toward him like living things.
A collective murmur rippled through the stands.
Kael vanished. One blink, he was there; the next, he was a blur of shadow and wind, striking from impossible angles. Reks' guard faltered—just for a moment—but it was enough for Kael to land a slicing blow across his chest.
Blood hit the ground.
Reks bared his teeth. "Fine."
The earth beneath Kael turned molten in an instant, a surge of lava exploding upward. Kael barely vaulted back in time, the heat scorching his legs.
Now Reks used all three of his elements—walls of stone herding Kael into bursts of fire, rivers of magma cutting off retreat. The arena became a furnace, the ground cracking under the strain.
The clash became frantic. Kael's ice hissed to steam the moment it touched the floor; his wind was torn apart by the heatwaves. Shadow became his only cover, darting in and out, searching for that one opening.
It came in the final seconds—a misstep, Reks overextending with a molten strike. Kael's shadow-wreathed blade found his shoulder, driving him to his knees.
DING.
"Winner—Kael!"
Both men collapsed to the ground, gasping. Neither celebrated. The applause felt distant under the ringing in their ears.
In the infirmary, Laziel watched the match's end on the crystal display, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
The nurse stepped in. "Your injuries are not sufficiently healed yet."
He didn't turn from the screen. "I know."
"You should withdraw from the next match. I'll tell the instructors you ar—"
"No." His voice was firm, final. "I'll do it."
"You can't," she said sharply. "Even if you somehow win, you'll take damage that could put you out for the finals entirely."
Laziel finally looked at her, fire burning in his eyes. "I'll do my best."
She sighed. "Then take care of yourself."
Back in the arena—
"Second match of the semifinals—Laziel vs. Ralph!"
Ralph stepped in calm as ever, light mana shimmering faintly in the air around him. Laziel entered slower, shoulders tight, but his smirk didn't falter.
DING.
Wind erupted around Laziel, swift and precise, carrying him into a flurry of rapid strikes. Ralph danced away, his movements sharp, his sword of light parrying each attempt.
For a time, Laziel kept pace. But the strain showed—his steps grew heavier, his breath faster.
Ralph's eyes narrowed. He pressed forward.
Laziel gritted his teeth. If wind wouldn't do it…
Sparks crawled along his arms—lightning mana, raw and unstable. The air crackled.
Then—pain. A tearing jolt ripped through his muscles, forcing a grimace as his body refused to channel it fully. The lightning fizzled, leaving him exposed.
Ralph struck, clean and decisive, driving Laziel back with blinding arcs of light until a final slash sent him sprawling.
DING.
"Winner—Ralph Lumen!"
Laziel lay on the ground, chest heaving, staring at the sky. For just a moment, his smile returned.
The crowd still buzzed as Kael stepped onto the field's edge, Ralph on the opposite side. Their eyes locked, the noise fading into a tense silence.
The announcer's voice rang out.
"Final match—Kael vs. Ralph!"
The arena shook with cheers.
Tomorrow, only one name would be remembered.