Chapter 104: The Knights Stop Laughing
Garran Holt led his volunteers onto the joint training ground expecting a comedy show.
The Knight instructor crossed the boundary line, followed by a dozen heavily armored first-year students carrying padded practice weapons. Kaelen Thorne walked near the front, a smirk firmly planted on his face despite the medical brace strapped beneath his tunic. They expected to find the Magic Department scattered, panicking, or hiding behind massive, stationary barriers.
Instead, the mages were already positioned in a staggered line across the sand. Nobody was talking. Emma Arlon stood to the side, holding a heavy wooden clipboard and an alchemical timing crystal, her eyes following the Knights with a cold, judging stare.
"Alright, Cassandra," Holt called out, his deep voice carrying across the morning air. "Let's see if your students learned how to stand still before they get run over."
Cassandra didn't raise her voice. She simply nodded to the first mage in line. "Engage."
A Knight with a padded training sword charged. The first mage, a nervous boy from the water delegation, froze. He raised his wand, panicked by the speed of the armored advance, and tried to cast a sweeping geyser. It took too long. The Knight didn't even slow down, slamming his shoulder into the boy's chest and knocking him flat into the dirt.
The Knight volunteers chuckled. It was exactly what they had expected.
"Next," Cassandra said flatly.
Martin stepped up to the mark. Kaelen Thorne let out a short, dismissive laugh as he stepped forward with his padded mace. "Try not to break your wand when you fall, wind-mage."
Kaelen accelerated, putting his full weight into a heavy sprint. Martin didn't look at Kaelen's face or the raised mace. He watched the Knight's boots. The moment Kaelen committed his weight to his leading foot, Martin flicked his wand.
He didn't cast a wall. He fired a compressed burst of wind directly at Kaelen's ankle.
The sudden blast swept Kaelen's footing away. His own momentum worked against him, twisting his body off balance. Kaelen crashed into the sand, his mace flying from his grip and skidding across the courtyard.
The laughter from the Knights died instantly.
"Next," Cassandra repeated.
Ariana Flamehart stepped forward. A Knight with a tower shield charged her, expecting to brace against a standard fireball. Ariana aimed three feet to his left and superheated a narrow strip of air. When the Knight hit the sudden change in pressure, his charge shifted off course, sending him stumbling past her without a single spark touching his armor.
Emily Frost took the mark next. The charging Knight didn't even make it three steps before Emily formed a thumb-sized spike of solid ice directly beneath his descending heel. The Knight's ankle rolled violently, sending him crashing face-first into the dirt.
Emma clicked her timing crystal. "Cast delay, zero point four seconds," she announced to the courtyard. "Acceptable."
The Knights were no longer smiling. They pulled themselves up from the sand, gripping their padded weapons with genuine caution.
Maya stepped into the lane. Her opponent carried a padded spear, taking a careful stance instead of blindly rushing forward. He lunged, thrusting the spear directly at her chest.
Maya didn't retreat to cast. She surged forward, wrapping her forearms in a dense layer of reinforced mana. She knocked the spear aside with her left arm, stepped inside the Knight's guard, and drove her right elbow directly into the center of his chest plate.
The dull crack echoed across the yard. The Knight gasped as the blow drove the air from his lungs, but he managed to brace his back foot. He shoved back, breaking her hold and sending Maya sliding a few feet across the sand. She hadn't won cleanly, but she remained on her feet, fists raised, proving she could survive direct contact with heavy armor.
"Enough," Holt barked, raising a scarred hand. He looked at the mages, his eyes narrowing as he studied their stances. "You stopped building walls. You started attacking the footing."
"We adapted, Holt," Cassandra said smoothly.
"They are less helpless than last term," Holt admitted, a begrudging compliment from a man who despised mages.
Cassandra didn't smile. "I don't celebrate surviving the bare minimum, Garran. We are done with the recruits."
From the back of the Knight formation, Ivan Baker stepped forward.
He didn't carry a practice weapon. He wore a fitted tunic and his heavily reinforced steel boots. He walked toward the center of the yard, ignoring the other students completely as his eyes locked onto Alex.
Alex handed his theory book to Ren and stepped out to meet him. He wore the cloth-lined frost-silver bracelet on his left wrist. A fresh, clear crystal sat inside the housing, replacing the one that had shattered in Sylvia's lab.
"I heard you were restricted to low-impact drills, Edelhart," Ivan said calmly.
"Medical orders," Alex replied. "But I can stand here."
"Good."
Ivan didn't give any warning. He simply triggered Flash.
Alex's Vector Sight activated instantly. Bright lines of force appeared across the courtyard. He tracked the single dangerous path coming straight toward his chest. Alex shifted his weight, preparing to catch the momentum—but the line suddenly ended.
Ivan slammed his boots into the sand exactly one step outside striking range.
He hadn't touched Alex. But the sudden stop sent a powerful burst of air across the courtyard. The wave carried the heat radiating from Ivan's friction-heated boots.
Alex's trait tried to handle the sudden heat. The frost-silver bracelet activated, pulling the heat away from his skin and storing it inside the clear crystal.
Crack.
The replacement crystal on Alex's wrist fractured down the middle, turning gray as a thin wisp of smoke escaped from it.
Ivan looked down at the smoking bracelet, then back at Alex. He had just proven that he didn't need to touch Alex to put pressure on his perception or damage his equipment.
"The final is not going to be a contest of strength," Ivan said quietly, making sure only Alex could hear him. "It is going to be a contest of who runs out of answers first. Fix your equipment."
Ivan turned and walked back toward his instructor.
Before Cassandra could order the next drill, the heavy iron gate of the courtyard opened. Director Maelor Vane stepped onto the sand, accompanied by two tournament officials carrying thick rolls of parchment. Maelor wore his usual mild, perfectly polite smile, though his eyes lingered on the broken crystal smoking on Alex's wrist.
"Good morning, Instructors," Maelor said smoothly. "I apologize for interrupting the joint session. The tournament committee has finalized the preliminary pairings. We are posting them across the academy this evening, but I wanted to provide the combat instructors with the official lists first."
An official handed a parchment roll to Cassandra and another to Holt.
Cassandra unrolled hers, scanning the names. Emma stepped beside her, looking over her shoulder with the same sharp attention she gave everything else.
Emma's brow furrowed. She reached out, tapping a line of ink near the bottom of the bracket.
"Director Vane," Emma said, her voice crisp. "This paperwork is compromised."
Maelor paused, turning toward her with mild surprise. "Compromised? I assure you, Lady Arlon, the pairings were drawn under strict committee oversight."
"Then the committee needs a mathematics tutor," Emma replied coldly. She pointed at the parchment so the entire yard could hear. "You have Martin listed in Arena Two at noon. And you have Martin listed again in Arena Three at two o'clock. Unless he plans on splitting himself in half, you have a duplicate match."