The Training Grounds were packed.
It seemed the entire student body had nothing better to do than watch a commoner get publicly executed. Students were hanging off the colonnades, filling the stone benches, and floating on small platforms of mana for a better view.
"This is ridiculous," Arion muttered, standing in the center. "I just wanted lunch. Now I'm a gladiator."
Ten paces away stood the Senior. He had discarded his uniform jacket, revealing a silk duel shirt that probably cost more than Arion's kidney. He was stretching, wind mana swirling around his ankles like eager puppies.
"Prepare yourself!" the Senior shouted, throwing his arms wide to soak in the applause. "Today, you learn the difference between a pebble and a storm!"
Arion yawned. "Yeah, yeah. Storm. Pebble. Can we just start?"
On the raised judge's platform, the Student Representative stood like a statue. She raised her hand. The crowd went instantly silent.
"The rules are Stationary Exchange," she announced, her voice reached every corner of the arena. "You may not move your feet. You may not physically strike your opponent. The first to step off their marker loses."
She looked down at Arion with her cold, grey eyes. "Do you understand the rules?"
"Don't move. Don't punch. Got it," Arion said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Begin!"
The Senior moved instantly. He raised his hand, his fingers tracing a complex geometric shape in the air. Green light trailed behind his fingertips, forming a glowing circle.
"Sto ónoma tou theoú tou anémou..." (In the name of the God of Wind...)
The circle pulsed, spinning rapidly. The mana pressure in the arena spiked.
"...tha sou diatáxo ton aéra!" (...I command the air!)
Three crescents of compressed air, sharp enough to cut iron, shot out from the magic circle. They tore across the floor toward Arion, leaving deep, screaming gouges in the solid stone.
The crowd cheered. Exousia leaned forward in the stands, grinning. "Here it comes."
Arion didn't chant. He didn't draw a circle. He didn't even take his hands out of his pockets.
He just... looked at the blades.
Air has mass. Mass can be heavy, Arion thought.
He blinked.
THOOM.
The air directly in front of Arion suddenly became as heavy as lead. The wind blades didn't hit a wall; they hit a gravity well. They crumpled, shattered, and dissolved into harmless breezes that ruffled Arion's hair.
The crowd gasped.
"What?" Exousia blinked, her grin vanishing. "Where was the Verse? Where was the Circle?"
Sebastian was writing furiously. "No invocation. No geometric stabilization. He just... increased the atmospheric density. Localized gravity manipulation? Fascinating."
In the arena, the Senior stared. "You... you blocked it? Without a chant?"
"I didn't block it," Arion said, looking at his fingernails. "It just got tired and stopped. Are you done?"
The Senior's face turned red. "Blasphemy! You mock the arts!"
He began to draw again, this time with both hands. Two circles formed—one horizontal, one vertical. The chanting was faster, more desperate.
"Sto ónoma tou theoú tou anémou! Megáli thýella!" (In the name of the God of Wind! Great Storm!)
A massive sphere of wind formed between the circles, roaring like a jet engine. The Senior thrust his hands forward.
The blast shot across the arena, kicking up a storm of dust and loose rock.
"Die!" the Senior screamed.
Arion sighed. "So loud."
He lifted one finger. Just the index finger. He drew a tiny, vertical line in the air. No light. No circle. Just a ripple in reality.
The Gale Cannon split in half.
It was like water hitting the prow of a ship. The massive blast parted around Arion, violently tearing up the stone on his left and right, leaving him standing in a perfectly untouched triangle of calm.
He hadn't moved a millimeter.
"You missed," Arion said helpfully.
The Senior was panting now. Sweat dripped down his face.
"Impossible," the Senior wheezed. "You... you don't even pray to the elements! How are you doing this?"
"I eat a balanced breakfast and do some exercise," Arion deadpanned. "Look, kid. Give up. Your legs are shaking."
"I will not yield to trash!" the Senior shrieked. He began to gather every scrap of mana he had, trying to draw a third circle. "I'll blow the entire arena away if I have to!"
Up on the platform, the Student Representative's eyes narrowed. This was dangerous. She prepared to intervene.
But Arion was faster.
He looked at the Senior's feet. They were planted wide on the rough stone floor for stability.
"You know," Arion called out, his voice cutting through the wind. "Stability requires grip. And grip requires friction."
"What?" the Senior yelled, his spell almost complete.
Arion tapped his own foot on the ground. A tiny tap.
The microscopic imperfections of the stone beneath the Senior's boots instantly flattened out. The floor became absolutely, perfectly frictionless—slicker than wet ice.
The Senior shifted his weight to finalize his magic circle. With zero friction to hold him in place, his right foot shot backward with no resistance.
"Whoa!"
He flailed, his arms pinwheeling in panic. To stop himself from doing a full split, he instinctively took a massive, desperate step forward with his left foot.
Stomp.
He stood there, panting, his unfinished magic circle shattering into sparks as his boots finally found rough stone again.
Silence.
Arion pointed at the Senior's feet. "You moved."
The Senior looked down. He was three feet off his marker.
"Winner: Arion," the Student Representative announced, her voice betraying absolutely no surprise.
Arion finally took his hands out of his pockets. He smiled, a genuine, terrifyingly bright smile.
"Steak," Arion said.
The arena remained dead silent for three full seconds.
Then, the whispers exploded.
Up in the stands, Exousia gripped the stone railing so hard the rock began to heat up and crack under her fingers.
"He cheated," she hissed, a wisp of smoke puffing from her lips. "He has to have cheated! You can't just turn rough stone into frictionless glass without a Magic Circle! He didn't even pray to the Gods!"
Beside her, Sebastian had pressed too hard and snapped his pencil. He didn't seem to notice, furiously trying to take notes with the broken graphite tip.
"No chant. No offering. Just a physical trigger," Sebastian muttered, his eyes wide. "He bypassed the gods entirely. The mana control required to alter the surface tension of solid stone like that..."
"It's a trick," Exousia insisted, crossing her arms. She shifted her glare from Arion to the judge's platform. "And why is she even out here? A simple stationary exchange shouldn't require the Student Representative to officiate!"
Sebastian finally looked up from his notepad, staring at the grey-haired girl standing above Arion.
"You don't know who she is?" Sebastian asked softly.
"She's just a third-year, right?" Exousia huffed.
"That is Kara Abyssos," Sebastian said. "Heiress to the Abyssos family. She absolutely never wastes her time on trivial disputes between students. If she is personally officiating this match, then..."
"Then what?" Exousia asked, narrowing her eyes.
"It means she is personally interested in him," Sebastian concluded, his tone entirely serious.
Exousia jumped, her boots slamming against the stone bleachers. Her hair literally burst into a halo of sparks.
"What do you mean 'interesting'?!" Exousia shrieked, completely forgetting where she was. "There is nothing interesting about that cheating, ancient fraud! Why would she be interested in him?! I am the one investigating him! Me!"
Sebastian sighed, rubbing his temple. "Exousia, your volume is currently—"
"I will not lower my volume!" she yelled, leaning so far over the railing she nearly fell. "He is highly suspicious, not interesting!"
Down in the arena, Arion winced, vigorously rubbing his ear. He looked up at the stands, easily spotting the furious fire mage waving her arms and glaring daggers at him.
"Does she have a volume control?" Arion muttered. "My head is already pounding."
Kara stepped off the judge's platform. She didn't use the stairs; she simply stepped into the air, and the wind carried her gently to the ground. As she descended, her cold, whirlpool eyes drifted up to the stands, locking onto Exousia. The fiery girl froze mid-rant, suddenly feeling a chill that went straight to her bones, before Kara calmly dismissed her and turned her attention back to the stone floor.
She walked over to Arion, who was busy trying to wipe rock dust off his cheap shoes.
"Your magic is highly irregular," she stated, her gaze shifting to the silver ring on his finger. "You manipulated the earth with just a single tap."
Arion looked up, dusting his hands off. "It's just rock. It does what it's told if you push hard enough."
She stared at him. The air around her grew heavy again, that suffocating ocean pressure testing him, probing for a reaction. Arion just yawned, tapping his stomach.
"Steak time," he reminded her.
For the first time all day, the girl let out a breath that sounded almost like a sigh.
"You may cease calling me Representative," she said, her voice dropping an octave. "My name is Kara Abyssos."
Arion blinked. "Okay, Kara. Does Kara want to come watch me eat a free steak?"
Kara's whirlpool eyes spun slightly faster. She turned toward the exit, her back perfectly straight.
"Follow me," Kara Abyssos said. "I will ensure he pays his debt. And then, you and I are going to have a very long conversation."
Arion groaned. "Can't we just talk about dessert?"