Chapter 69: Nice

  A deep tone rolled across the arena.

  It began as a single vibration, low and resonant, humming through the colossal sigil array beneath the candidates’ feet. The sound swelled outward through the stone like a struck bell, rising into the air until it seemed the entire Colosseum breathed with it.

  The murmuring crowd faltered.

  Then a voice followed.

  “Silence.”

  There was no shout.

  It simply arrived everywhere at once.

  Mana carried it across the vast space with effortless authority, the tone calm yet immovable. The whispering of tens of thousands faded like wind settling after a storm. Conversations stopped mid sentence. Even the restless shifting among the candidates slowed as heads turned toward the elevated platform.

  At the center lectern stood a tall man in layered robes of deep ivory and gold. His hair was silver without the frailty of age, bound neatly at the nape of his neck. Fine lines rested at the corners of his eyes, the kind carved by decades of sharp observation rather than weariness.

  A thin circlet of crystal rested across his brow, faint sigils drifting within it like fireflies trapped in glass.

  When he spoke again, the arena listened.

  “Citizens of the Capital. Honored guests. Noble houses, guild representatives, scholars, and faithful servants of the System and Kingdom.”

  His voice carried easily to the highest tiers.

  “Today we gather for a tradition older than many of the walls that surround us.”

  He rested both hands lightly upon the crystal lectern. Light from the sigil array below refracted upward through the stone, casting faint geometric patterns across his robes.

  “For centuries, the Capital and the Academy have stood in partnership. One governs the realm. The other cultivates its future.”

  A slow gesture of his hand encompassed the thousands of watching faces.

  “Every generation, when the children of this realm reach their thirteenth year, they are called here. Called not by decree of crown or command of army, but by the intricate design of the Academy selectors to foster our next generation of Strength.”

  Murmurs stirred softly in the higher stands.

  “The Entrance Ceremony marks the moment when potential meets destiny. Some of those who stand before you today will awaken powers capable of shaping nations. Others will discover talents that strengthen the quiet foundations of civilization. Builders. Scholars. Healers. Defenders.”

  His gaze swept across the gathered candidates.

  “No path among these is lesser.”

  The crowd responded with a respectful rumble of agreement.

  “For the Academy does not exist to glorify the mighty alone. It exists to ensure that power, in whatever form it takes, is tempered with discipline, knowledge, and responsibility.”

  He paused.

  The silence that followed was deliberate, allowing the weight of his words to settle over the arena.

  “Many of you know fragments of this tradition. Stories passed through family lines. Tales carried by traveling bards.”

  His faint smile reached only slightly into his eyes.

  “But allow me to remind you what truly begins today.”

  Lance felt the tension in the air sharpen.

  “A test designed not only to measure strength, but instinct. Adaptation. Courage. Strategy.”

  The Speaker’s voice carried across the arena like the steady toll of a bell.

  “It will establish your initial Academy ranking.”

  That word struck the candidates harder than anything before it.

  Ranking.

  A wave of whispers rippled through the thousand children standing within the arena.

  The Speaker continued without pause.

  “Those rankings will determine your early access to resources. Training grounds. Instructional priority. Guild observation. Even sponsorship from the noble houses you see watching above.”

  Lance glanced briefly toward the stands.

  Several nobles leaned forward in their seats.

  Interest sharpened.

  “Competition breeds excellence,” the Speaker said calmly. “Without it, potential rots into complacency.”

  His eyes swept across the field.

  “You will fight.”

  The words fell with quiet certainty.

  “Today’s entrance trial will take the form of a full battle royale. The first one ever in the History of the Academy."

  The reaction was immediate.

  Gasps burst from the candidates. Nervous laughter. A few excited shouts from the crowd above.

  “A thousand candidates will enter the arena.”

  The Speaker’s voice did not rise, yet it held absolute command.

  “Only one hundred will remain standing when the trial concludes.”

  The arena erupted with sound.

  Spectators roared with anticipation. Merchants shouted wagers across the promenade. Scholars leaned over their floating tablets, recording every word.

  Below, the candidates stared at one another with widening eyes.

  Friends looked suddenly less certain.

  Strangers became immediate threats.

  The Speaker raised a hand again.

  The noise died quickly.

  “Understand this clearly.”

  His voice hardened slightly.

  “This is not slaughter.”

  The sigils along the arena floor glowed faintly in response to his words.

  “Protective enchantments surround this field. The moment a candidate can no longer continue, the array will remove them from the trial.”

  A few shoulders relaxed.

  “A healer’s corps stands ready beneath the arena should injuries occur.”

  His gaze sharpened again.

  “But pain is not prevented. Fear is not removed.”

  The quiet that followed was heavier now.

  “You will face those things yourselves.”

  He leaned forward slightly at the lectern.

  “For the Academy does not train children who hide behind safety.”

  Lance felt the bond inside his chest stir faintly.

  “We train those who rise when the world presses against them.”

  The Speaker straightened.

  “When the signal is given, the barriers will activate and the trial will begin.”

  His voice carried across the entire colosseum one final time.

  “Survive.”

  A pause.

  “Adapt.”

  Another.

  “And prove that you deserve a place within the Capital Academy.”

  Mana flared along the edges of the arena floor.

  The massive barrier dome above shimmered brighter as it fully awakened.

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  The Speaker lowered his hand.

  “The Entrance Trial begins in sixty seconds.”

  _________________________________

  The arena did not erupt into chaos the way Lance expected.

  For several long seconds after the Speaker’s declaration, the thousand candidates simply stood where they were. Some shifted nervously. Others eyed the nearest stranger with sudden suspicion. A few rolled their shoulders or bounced lightly on their feet like fighters about to enter a sparring ring.

  Lance barely noticed any of it.

  His mind had drifted inward.

  Battle royale.

  The phrase echoed quietly through his thoughts.

  A thousand fighters. One hundred left standing.

  He had faced danger before. The road from Knighthelm had proven that much. Yet this felt different. Cleaner in a strange way. Honest.

  No ambush in the dark. No monsters crashing through carriage walls. No Corruption to fear here.

  Just a test.

  His fingers flexed slowly at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking softly.

  Ranking.

  That word lingered more than the promise of fighting. A ladder had been placed before them, and the first step would be carved today. Compete. Climb. Or be left behind.

  The bond in his chest stirred faintly. Curious, Excited, Restless.

  Lance inhaled slowly and let the breath settle.

  Survive. Adapt.

  He could do that.

  Somewhere in the distance a bell rang.

  Once.

  The sound rolled through the Colosseum like thunder sealed inside stone.

  The sixty seconds had passed.

  For a moment nothing happened.

  Then the world shifted.

  Not violently. Not with the crack of magic or the flare of blinding light.

  Reality simply slid sideways.

  Lance blinked.

  In the span of a single heartbeat, everything within his field of vision had changed.

  The towering stands that had been packed with spectators were now empty rows of pale stone benches stretching endlessly upward. The colorful awnings were gone. The banners had vanished. The murmuring sea of nobles, merchants, and scholars had disappeared as if they had never existed.

  Silence filled the space where tens of thousands had been watching only moments ago.

  Across the arena, the elevated platform had vanished as well.

  No lectern. No officials. No silver haired Speaker.

  Just bare stone.

  Lance slowly turned his head.

  Even the intricate sigil array beneath their feet had disappeared. The glowing lines and sacred geometry had been replaced by a flawless expanse of smooth white arena floor.

  Around him, the other candidates were beginning to realize it too.

  Confused whispers spread through the crowd of children.

  “Where did everyone go?”

  “Was that an illusion?”

  “Did they move us?”

  A few spun in place, scanning the silent colosseum as if expecting the spectators to reappear.

  But nothing changed.

  The thousand participants stood alone inside a massive, empty arena beneath an open sky.

  No audience.

  No instructors.

  No protection but whatever strength they carried themselves.

  Lance exhaled slowly.

  The test had not started with a signal.

  It had started with isolation.

  Lance, still just barely out of his stupor, was fully brought back to attention after hearing a scream close to him.

  The scream cut through the silence like a blade.

  Lance’s head snapped toward the sound just as a burst of orange light exploded across the arena floor. A fireball slammed into the face of a thin boy wearing ranger greens. The impact knocked him backward, flames rolling across his chest and shoulders for a brief, horrifying second.

  The boy screamed.

  The sound barely lasted a heartbeat.

  Silver light flashed around his body as the protective enchantment triggered. His form flickered and vanished instantly, pulled away from the battlefield before the flames could do worse.

  The space he had occupied was empty again.

  For a moment the arena froze.

  Then the dam broke.

  A thousand children realized the same thing at once.

  If someone else attacked first, they might already be gone.

  Chaos erupted.

  Shouts filled the air as the candidates surged into motion. Some ran immediately, trying to put distance between themselves and the nearest threats. Others rushed forward with reckless aggression, eager to claim the first victories of the trial.

  Spells ignited across the arena.

  A streak of ice shattered against the stone floor. A pulse of golden force sent two boys tumbling backward. Somewhere to Lance’s right a pair of pugilists collided like charging bulls, fists already swinging.

  Lance stayed where he was.

  Just for a second.

  His eyes moved quickly across the shifting battlefield.

  Too many people.

  Too little space.

  The worst place to be was the center of panic.

  Three candidates rushed him before he could move.

  One carried a short sword with both hands like he had seen in training yards. Another boy beside him held a staff that glowed faintly blue at the tip. The third had no weapon at all and sprinted with wild determination.

  They were not coordinating.

  They were hunting the nearest target. Either they knew each other beforehand or since they were so close to each other they quickly agreed to work together instead of fighting each other.

  Lance sighed quietly.

  “Bad choice.”

  The boy with the sword was closest, and swung first.

  Lance stepped sideways and let the blade cut through empty air. His gloved hand shot out and grabbed the attacker’s wrist. A small pulse of mana surged through the contact.

  Static Discharge released with full intent to harm.

  Static crackled.

  The boy yelped as his muscles locked for half a second.

  That was enough.

  Lance shoved him backward with a sharp push to the chest. The boy stumbled two steps before a fist met teeth, and then tongue. His protective charm activated immediately.

  One down.

  The staff wielder tried to fire a spell.

  The blue crystal at the end of his staff flared just as Lance closed the distance.

  Knights Bearing has been active since Lance's first action, now with his reaction time and overall combat ability increased and still climbing, He pounced for the backliner.

  Lance dashed, scorch marks tattooing the ground as he drove his shoulder into the boy’s midsection before the spell could release. Air burst from the boy’s lungs as they both crashed to the ground.

  Lance rolled once and came up on his feet.

  The boy did not.

  Lance whipped out one of his daggers that were strapped to his lower back, one of his mothers many gifts; slamming down aiming for the neck.

  Centimeters before steel met flesh the boy flickered out and Lance, who was straddling the boy, lost his balance for a second.

  The third attacker hesitated. Upon seeing Lance finally show an opening after going off-balance he ran in.

  That was his mistake.

  Lance rolled on his side and jumped up, stepping forward and driving a quick punch into the boy’s stomach with his left hand. He quickly followed up with his right, grabbing the boy's throat and head-butted the winded boy.

  The strike was not especially strong, but the mana threaded through his gloves sent a jolt of force through the impact.

  The boy folded. Silver light flared.

  Gone.

  Three fights.

  Three seconds.

  Lance exhaled slowly and finally began moving.

  The arena had already devolved into scattered skirmishes. Groups of two or three clashed across the wide stone floor while others ran in tight clusters trying to survive the initial frenzy.

  Spells flashed constantly.

  A pillar of stone erupted from the ground near the far side of the arena. A streak of lightning cracked across the air and sent two candidates diving for cover.

  Lance slipped between the chaos.

  He moved steadily rather than rushing. His eyes scanned constantly, measuring distance and movement.

  Charging blindly was the fastest way to lose.

  A boy with a pair of daggers tried to ambush him from the side.

  Lance caught the motion early. He pivoted and kicked the attacker’s knee out from under him. The boy hit the ground hard and rolled away in panic. The silver light didn’t flash though, Lance made sure to note that.

  Another candidate slammed into Lance’s shoulder while running past.

  Lance grabbed the boy’s collar and redirected his momentum into the path of an incoming punch from someone else. The two collided and tumbled together.

  Silver light flared.

  He kept walking. Observing how some people would disappear just as they hit the ground, some would take several hits or even a stab before they vanished. They must be Tiering the enchantment to scale with the user somehow. He wasn't sure.

  The noise of battle swelled around him.

  Lance felt the bond inside his chest stirring with growing excitement. Threads of energy rippled faintly through his limbs as his mana responded to the heightened emotions around him. Surprisingly, his bond almost seemed like he finally wanted out.

  Focus.

  He needed a plan.

  Fighting alone worked for the opening chaos, but this arena was too large and too unpredictable to wander through forever.

  He needed allies.

  Aoife.

  Slade.

  The thought of them grounded him immediately.

  Aoife would already be thinking three steps ahead of everyone else. Slade would probably be throwing himself into the thickest fight he could find.

  Lance scanned the battlefield again, rising briefly onto his toes to see over the shifting bodies.

  No sign of either of them.

  A shout pulled his attention back just as a group of four candidates rushed toward him.

  These ones moved with more coordination than the others.

  Great.

  The lead attacker hurled a narrow bolt of wind that sliced across the stone floor. Lance jumped sideways and the gust skimmed past his ribs. Another boy followed close behind with a spear thrust aimed straight for Lance’s chest.

  Lance caught the shaft with both hands and twisted.

  The spear jerked violently out of its owner’s grip.

  Lance spun it once and swept the butt end across the attacker’s legs. The boy toppled backward with a surprised cry. His enchantment activated before he even hit the ground.

  The remaining three hesitated.

  Lance planted the stolen spear against the stone. Pulling out his own spear from his back, the cloth that was tied around it slowly fell.

  “Still want to try?” he asked.

  They tried.

  One charged with a glowing fist. Lance stepped forward, Arclight Guard Empowering his weapon, he made a wide horizontal slash as the boy charged releasing a torrent of Lightning fulling enveloping the seizing boy before he collapsed and releasing a flash of Silver light before Disappearing.

  The other two lost their nerve and ran.

  Lance let them go.

  He ran with a spear in his hand, The initial frenzy had begun to thin.

  Here and there flashes of silver light marked eliminated candidates disappearing from the battlefield. The massive arena that had once held a thousand fighters was already beginning to open up.

  Good.

  Less chaos meant more focused battles, and he was less likely to get caught up with more riff-raff.

  Lance slowed slightly as he reached a clearer stretch of the arena.

  His breathing remained steady. His muscles felt warm but not strained. The bond pulsed quietly in his chest like an eager companion watching the battle unfold.

  He just needed to survive long enough to find the others.

  Across the arena another burst of flame rose into the air.

  Lance squinted toward the distant light.

  For a brief moment he thought he recognized the figure standing in the middle of that explosion. Vines and a concussive blast of energy releasing from the center.

  A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “Please tell me that’s Slade.”

  If it was, the battlefield was about to get a lot louder.