Now the stadium roared like a living beast.
Banners of every prestigious academy fluttered high in the wind—Howarth Academy's crimson phoenix, Arcadia Academy's silver spear, Rosania Academy's sapphire crown, and, of course, Constantine High's golden lion.
Elijah stood at the VIP room, beside Cilie, his eyes tracing the sea of colors and students gathered below. The energy was electrifying. The Third Round: The Monster Hunt—the most anticipated phase of the Cup of Power Tournament—was about to begin.
The head judge, clad in ceremonial robes, raised his staff, and his voice echoed across the massive arena through magical amplification.
"—In the Third Round, each school team shall be teleported into an Untamed Wild Zone! There, magical beasts roam freely. Your task: hunt, survive, and return victorious. The team that defeats the strongest creature shall earn the highest points."
The ground beneath the competitors began to shimmer. Elaborate magical circles—ancient runes woven with precise symmetry—glowed with golden light.
One by one, the teams vanished, teleported in streams of ethereal energy to their respective battlefields.
A colossal crystal screen materialized above the stadium, displaying live images of each battlefield in breathtaking clarity.
Elijah leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"I once read that Ancient Magic is strictly forbidden for public use… but this teleportation… it's definitely not ordinary. Why are they using it here?"
Cilie, standing elegantly beside him, her long blue hair catching the golden day sun, smiled faintly.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she murmured. "A world where magic takes countless shapes. Where even the forbidden can find its place."
Elijah nodded slowly. "There are… two kinds of magic, right? Celestial Magic—the one we use—"
"—And Ancient Magic," Cilie completed gently. "Yes. You're right. Celestial Magic relies on spoken incantations. But Ancient Magic is different—it requires both carefully drawn circles and precise incantations. But there's something else too. Something… forgotten."
Elijah's brow furrowed. "Something else? What do you mean?"
Cilie's golden eyes flickered in the sun's reflection.
"There are three types of magic, and this is the last type, Elijah," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "A form of magic so rare that it exists only as a name buried in the deepest archives of the Magus Codex. Even King Solomon's Grimoire of Arcane Genesis never detailed it."
Her eyes met his.
"It's called Mystic Magic."
Elijah's breath caught. The words sent a strange chill through him.
"'Mystic Magic'… I've never heard of it. How do you know this?"
She smiled playfully but there was a veil of mystery behind her expression.
"You'll understand," she said softly. "When you complete your path… when you walk far enough, even at this young age, the world will whisper its secrets to you."
For a moment, they both laughed lightly, the tension easing—just two souls standing beneath the sky, watching the fate of others unfold.
Now their eyes turned to the screen, where the monster-hunting battle was being displayed.
Teams from Howarth Academy, Rosania Academy, Arcadia Academy, and Constantine High were each locked in their own deadly skirmishes.
Monsters of breathtaking terror filled the screens—twisting shadows, scaled beasts, glowing eyes in the dark. Magic flared in bursts of color—fire, ice, wind, steel.
"Look—" Cilie pointed.
One screen showed Rosania Academy surrounded by a swarm of iron-maw wolves, their crimson eyes gleaming. The team fought desperately, their formation broken, spells cast in panic. Blood spattered the earth. Finally, judges intervened, and the students were forcefully teleported back, injured and breathless. Healers rushed to them as the crowd applauded in sympathetic relief.
"They tried," Elijah murmured, heart pounding. "But… they weren't ready."
Another screen lit up.
Arcadia Academy faced off against a colossal serpent, its scales like molten bronze. Their leader—a silver-haired youth—led the charge, wielding twin blades of searing light. The fight was brutal. Explosions. Magic circles. The serpent crashed, dead. The crowd erupted in cheers.
Elijah grinned in amazement. "That was insane… Even injured, they chose to push through. That's the spirit of a leader."
Cilie gave a small nod. "Yes. He made the right call."
Arcadia Academy, however, returned to the stadium soon after—battered, but dignified.
Only Howarth Academy and Constantine High remained on the battlefield.
Elijah's heart squeezed tight as he watched.
"Howarth's fighting a Giant Spider…" he murmured, eyes darting.
"And—wait—"
The screen shifted.
Constantine High—his own team—stood face to face with a young Dragon, its silver scales shimmering, its wings vast enough to block out the sun.
Elijah felt a rush of adrenaline. "That's… a real dragon," he whispered, barely breathing. "I can't believe they're doing this…"
He saw them—Daud, Sylphira, Ayn, Anna, Drake—faces he knew. Faces that now burned with determination as they cast spell after spell, dodging, striking, pushing through exhaustion.
Minutes passed like lifetimes.
Then—
The Dragon fell. The Giant Spider crumpled. Both teams stood victorious.
The magic circles pulsed again, summoning them back to the stadium.
The crowd roared.
The head judge raised his hands as golden letters appeared above.
Howarth Academy: 200 Points
Constantine High: 200 Points
Rosania Academy: 100 Points
Arcadia Academy: 150 Points
The stadium shook from applause.
Elijah saw them—his friends—laughing, cheering, some barely able to stand but still smiling through the exhaustion. Daud lifted Sylphira into the air, Ayn pumped his fists, and Anna wiped tears of joy from her eyes, Drake sank to the ground, utterly exhausted, but a faint smile still tugged at his lips.
For a moment, the weight of politics, of destiny, of fate itself—vanished.
Only friendship and triumph remained.
The Third Round was over.
But deep inside, Elijah knew—
The real trials hadn't even begun yet.
Cilie asked softly, her golden eyes narrowing with concern, "Why do you look so tense, Elijah?"
Elijah exhaled slowly. "The third round is over, but the fourth round is the Group Battle. From what I've seen so far, Howarth is one step ahead of us in terms of sheer strength."
Cilie's expression remained calm, but her voice grew steadier. "Then that's where we'll shift our focus," she said firmly. "The fourth round isn't just about strength—it's about strategy, unity, and willpower. Raw power alone doesn't guarantee victory."
She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "Remember, Elijah, battles aren't won by fear. They're won by those who adapt. Let them have their strength—we'll outsmart them."
Her words seemed to settle the tension in the air as both of them turned their eyes toward the stadium, where the fourth round preparations were beginning.