“Now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the next set of matches in the Youngling Division! Fighters 19 and 20, 21 and 22, and 23 and 24—please take your positions!”

  Risha made her way to the middle stage, walking to her side of the arena. On the stage, Risha’s opponent was already waiting.

  “On stage two, we have Risha Lapernt versus Edrig Hamsworth! Let’s give them a round of applause!”

  The crowd cheered, their enthusiasm undiminished as Risha and Edrig exchanged polite nods.

  Edrig carried himself with the disciplined poise of a scholar. He was clad in well-fitted red robes, the fabric decorated with minor runic sigils near the sleeves. A polished wooden staff rested in his grip, its top adorned with a gleaming crystal that faintly pulsed with mana. His short brown hair was neatly kept, and his glasses gave him an air of calculated precision.

  Risha, in contrast, was dressed far more fittingly for combat. The brown cloak she usually wore had been pulled back, revealing a fine close-fitted white leather tunic with various straps securing it to her frame. Thin metal plates were strategically placed for protection, including one large plate over her chest. The outfit was practical, designed for mobility rather than showmanship.

  She noticed Edrig’s eyes scan her attire briefly before meeting her gaze. He gave a respectful nod.

  "Best of luck," he said, his voice calm and measured.

  Risha smirked slightly, rolling her shoulders. "You too."

  The two took their positions at opposite ends of the stage, settling into their stances.

  The announcer’s voice cut through all of the noise in the stadium. “Fighters, prepare yourselves! The match begins in three… two… one!”

  As the countdown ended, Risha’s grin turned fierce. She raised her hand, and in a flash of mana, a massive claymore sword materialized in her grip. The blade was nearly as tall as she was, its surface shimmering with raw energy before settling.

  Edrig adjusted his grip on his staff, the crystal at its tip glowing faintly as he channeled his mana.

  The announcer raised his hand.

  “Let the match begin!”

  The moment the announcer’s voice rang out, Risha was already moving.

  She sprinted off to the side, her steps light against the smooth white stone of the arena. Instead of rushing in head-on, she curved her path, circling around Edrig in a wide arc.

  Without breaking stride, Risha swung her sword in a controlled motion.

  Slash—

  An arc of pure energy sliced through the air, cutting straight toward Edrig.

  The noble reacted instantly. His grip tightened around his staff, and with a quick, practiced movement, he conjured a translucent blue barrier—but not a full dome. Instead, the shield formed only where the energy wave was about to hit, matching its shape precisely. The attack struck the condensed mana barrier with a sharp crack, before fizzling out.

  Risha didn’t let this slow her down, though.

  She pivoted, kicking off the ground to shift directions, unleashing another energy wave. Then another. And another.

  Each strike sent a gleaming arc of mana hurtling toward Edrig, but every time, he countered with another calculated, shaped barrier. Unlike most mages who relied on simple spherical defenses, his control was sharper—more refined.

  Instead of wasting mana on a full-body shield, he only reinforced the areas under attack. A focused defense.

  He’s good, Risha admitted inwardly.

  Risha skidded to a stop, her grin still in full effect. “Not bad,” she called out, her voice carrying over the noise of the crowd. “But let’s see how you handle this!”

  As she skidded to a stop, she planted her feet and tightened her grip on the claymore. Her mana surged into the blade, causing the entire weapon to glow. The hum of power intensified, its edges sharpening with a burning radiance.

  Then—she swung.

  This time, the energy wave wasn’t just a simple arc. It was larger, heavier, the sheer force behind it making the air shudder as it raced forward, carving a shallow groove into the stage beneath it.

  But Edrig had been watching her carefully.

  Instead of summoning another barrier, his mana flared around his legs, wrapping them in wisps of wind.

  With a single step, he was gone, the gust of his movement rippling outward as he was propelled by his magic.

  The massive energy wave slammed into the arena wall behind him, sending cracks splintering across its surface. Dust and debris billowed into the air, and a few members of the crowd gasped at the sheer force behind the attack.

  Risha barely had time to react before Edrig countered.

  “Your turn, huh?” Risha muttered, her sharp eyes catching the subtle shift in Edrig’s posture.

  He raised his staff—

  A pulse of something shot forward.

  There was no light. No sound. No visible indication of an attack. However, the fact that his staff was aimed at her, signaled something was amiss.

  Risha’s instincts screamed at her.

  Her body tensed. Without hesitating, she lifted her claymore and angled it diagonally across herself, bracing with both hands—one gripping the hilt, the other pressing against the flat of the blade.

  An instant later, an invisible force slammed into her.

  The sheer impact sent her skidding backward, her boots scraping against the arena floor as she absorbed the hit.

  An invisible attack.

  "Alright then—" she grinned, shifting her stance low before exploding forward. "Let’s go!"

  She shot toward him like an arrow, her claymore humming with power.

  Edrig responded immediately. Another pulse of mana flared at the tip of his staff, and more invisible force blasts hurtled toward her.

  Risha felt them before they hit. The way the air subtly shifted, the faint ripple in the mana around her—it was enough to give her a sense of their trajectory. She adjusted her blade instinctively.

  Clang! The first impact met the broad side of her claymore, dispersing in a harmless wave of force.

  The second blast came from a lower angle—she adjusted her grip, lowering her sword just in time to deflect it away. She couldn’t feel them precisely, and although she blocked the hits, a portion of their force still hit her, as she was clumsily relying on pure instinct.

  Then came the third.

  She raised her blade to intercept, expecting the hit—

  Nothing.

  Her sword cut through empty air. For a split second, confusion flickered across her face—

  Then crash!

  The force hit her a moment later, striking right into her stomach and knocking her back a step. She let out a sharp breath, forced to steady herself.

  He delayed it, she realized. Her grin widened. "Hah, smart move!"

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  Instead of hesitating, she lunged forward again, closing the gap between them.

  Edrig's expression remained composed as he swung his staff in a slow, deliberate arc.

  Risha narrowed her eyes. What’s he doing?

  There was no immediate attack. No burst of force like before. But she wasn’t about to walk blindly into whatever trap he was setting. She activated one of her own skills.

  An invisible field expanded outward from her, the radius being an amplified field the same range of her strike zone. The moment anything disturbed the space around her, her body would move on its own, reacting instinctively to counter or evade.

  She surged toward Edrig, her claymore by her side, angled at the ground, poised to strike.

  As she was about to reach him, a jolt ran through her senses. Her instincts screamed and her skill was causing her body to move.

  Six disturbances.

  All around her, six different points of pressure intruded within her skill’s range. All evenly spaced apart, coming from all different directions.

  Her body responded automatically.

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  She twirled, spinning on her heel, her claymore whirling in a rapid arc. With every strike, she snapped to and countered each blow, dispersing them harmlessly.

  Once she finished and both feet landed steadily back on the ground, she turned her gaze back to Edrig—

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Before she could react, more invisible force blasts struck the ground around her. These weren’t directed at her, but beneath her feet.

  The white stone cracked beneath her feet.

  Her footing was caught, and her balance wavered. She tried to stabilize herself, but she wasn’t able to adjust in time. She stumbled, falling face-first into the ground.

  The crowd gasped at the sudden shift.

  Up in the stands, a few nobles murmured.

  A man, keenly watching the fight, exclaimed, “He tricked her!”

  "Smart—he forced her to move, then disrupted her footing afterward."

  Edrig stood tall, adjusting his glasses. His staff was already glowing again, preparing for his next move.

  Risha, face pressed against the arena floor, let out a muffled groan.

  Then, she chuckled.

  Risha pressed her hands against the cracked stone and pushed herself up, shaking dust from her cloak. She exhaled sharply, her grin still wide, excitement gleaming in her eyes.

  "Alright, alright," she muttered under her breath. "That was a good one."

  Edrig had already leaped away, enchanting his legs with wind magic. He landed with grace, adjusting his grip on his staff, eyes still focused and composed.

  Risha exploded forward once again.

  This time, her claymore pulsed with a soft blue glow. Mana coursed through the blade, making it hum faintly, resonating with her will. The energy condensed—controlled, rather than wild—refining itself into something sharper. She was using a different skill this time, her trump card.

  Another slash would be too predictable. But she wasn’t going to just swing.

  Edrig moved first, his staff shifting into an unusual motion—this time swinging from up top to down, as if he was trying to bonk her on the head.

  Risha didn’t have time to think about it. It was most likely another unorthodox attack. But as long as she had her counter field, she could deal with it. She just had to be careful of her footing now.

  The moment she reached halfway to him, she unleashed a powerful wave slash—a heavy, sweeping arc of pure energy, cutting through the air between them. This arc had a soft blue glow, the same as the one lingering on her blade.

  At the same time—

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  Risha’s instincts flared. Six more distinct disruptions, this time, from above. She moved, twisting her body mid-motion, her claymore flashing as she countered the unseen barrage, parrying the force strikes one by one.

  Clang! Clang!

  The impacts rang out as she repelled each one, her blade dancing between the gaps in the unseen attacks before they could hit.

  Edrig however, also wasn’t just waiting around. The moment her wave slash reached him, a perfectly sized barrier formed in front of him—molded precisely to absorb the exact shape and force of the attack. Her wave slash vanished the moment it made contact, sparkles of energy dissipating in the air.

  Risha barely had a moment to register it before she noticed something else—Edrig’s staff was glowing. Brighter than before. Edrig pointed his staff directly at her.

  She tried to move and dodge whatever was coming, but the blasts above had her locked down; she couldn’t escape. Luckily, she still had her skill—

  BOOM!

  The explosion rang out—not from above, not from the side, not from anywhere she could predict—

  It just hit her.

  A powerful, invisible blast struck her dead center. There was no projectile. No trajectory. No warning. Just raw, condensed force.

  Risha’s body launched across the arena, the impact ripping her from her stance and sending her flying backward.

  She barely had time to twist midair before she crashed off the edge of the tournament stage, slamming onto the ground below.

  The moment her boots left the arena, the announcer’s voice rang out.

  “And that’s it! Contestant #22, Risha Lapernt, is out of bounds! The victor is—!”

  But before he could finish—

  A sudden screech of high-pitched sound emanated from the air.

  A lingering arc of energy—thin, nearly invisible, but fast—tore itself into reality a few feet in front of Edrig—exactly where he had blocked Risha’s last wave slash.

  The arc of mana rushed at him with blinding speed, too fast for him to react. His eyes widened in that instant, the realization that he couldn’t stop it dawning on him. It crashed directly into his body, center-mass. The blow launched him backwards, uplifting him into the air.

  And then, just like Risha, he went sailing right off the edge.

  The crowd gasped.

  A moment of silence followed before the announcer, stunned, cleared his throat and spoke again.

  “A—a delayed counterattack from Contestant #22! However, because she was the first to fall off the stage, her loss still stands!”

  The crowd murmured in excitement, some cheering for Edrig’s victory, others buzzing about Risha’s last-second counterstrike.

  Risha lay sprawled out on the stone ground, staring at the sky. She let out a sigh, and pounded the ground next to her with a fist.

  Then, she laughed.

  “Well. That almost worked. If only he waited like… one more second, haha…”

  On the opposite side, Edrig coughed, pushing himself up, one hand clutching his chest where the attack had struck. He adjusted his glasses—though slightly askew now—and exhaled.

  Both of them recovered and met again at the center of the stage.

  “…Impressive,” Edrig admitted.

  Risha grinned up at him, rolling her shoulder. “You too. But just saying—you got lucky this time. One more second, and I would’ve had you.”

  Edrig nodded. “I do not doubt that. Your last attack caught me off guard,” he said. “You are very good with that sword. I’ve never fought anyone my age who could react to my attacks that easily before.”

  “Hah, well, I am pretty awesome,” Risha said, scratching the back of her head. “You’re not bad yourself, either.”

  Edrig studied her for a moment, then adjusted his glasses. “Indeed. I would love to fight with you again. I think we would make a good pair, Risha.”

  Something about the way he said her name—so earnest, so direct—made her stomach flip.

  “E-eh?” She blinked, momentarily thrown off, before hastily scratching the side of her cheek. “P-pair?” Her face turned red at the sudden confession.

  Nodding once more, Edrig continued, oblivious. “Yes. Becoming sparring partners would greatly benefit our skills. I still need more practice against close-range fighters, and I believe you could improve your reactions to being hit with multiple attacks at once.”

  “Sparring partners?” Risha echoed, before the full meaning of his words sank in. Oh.

  Her cheeks puffed out. “Oh, geez! I thought you meant something else!” she blurted, spinning on her heel and stomping toward the arena steps, practically fleeing from the conversation.

  Her entire face was burning.

  Edrig tilted his head, watching her go with mild confusion. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Behind him, the crowd cheered as the tournament staff began preparing for the next match.

  The door to the fighter’s hall creaked open.

  “Risha…” Enya’s voice was soft and cautious.

  Risha shook her head before she could say anything else. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s fine,” she muttered, though there was a faint hint of disappointment in her voice.

  She trudged over and plopped down next to Enya, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Welp, there goes my first match. That really sucks.”

  Enya studied her. “Are you okay?”

  Risha gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’m fine. Just… frustrating, y’know? I was one second away from winning that fight. If Edrig had hesitated just a little longer, bam, I would’ve had him.” She crossed her arms, scowling. “But nooo, he had to go and have stupid invisible attacks. Seriously, how do you even dodge something you can’t see?”

  Enya leaned forward, tilting her head slightly as she tried to get a better look at Risha’s face. “Does… this mean you’re out of the tournament?”

  Risha glanced at her and shook her head. “Nah. Do you remember what Headmaster Laventis said about that rogue girl—Marybelle—after she tried to attack you? He mentioned that she was banned from redemption matches.”

  Enya tapped a finger to her lip. “Hm… yeah, I remember that. I didn’t really think much of it at the time.” She frowned slightly. “Why?”

  “It’s basically like… a loser’s bracket,” Risha explained. “People who lost their fights still get a chance to prove themselves in a backup tournament. It’s for cases where there were fluke wins, or if someone got matched with an opponent way too strong for them right at the start. It’s not ideal, but at least it gives me another shot.”

  Enya nodded slowly, absorbing the information.

  “But there’s another way in,” Risha continued, stretching her arms behind her head. “If one of the instructors watching the match thinks you’re worth it, they can recommend you. Or if the Headmaster himself notices something special about you, you might get a direct pass into the academy. That’s super rare, though.”

  Enya’s fingers curled slightly against her lap as an idea formed in her mind.

  “Does… that include the city lord too? I think he was sitting up there with the Headmaster,” Enya asked.

  Risha shrugged. “Probably. He is the ruler of Talo. The headmaster would probably accept a recommendation by him.”

  Enya went quiet as she thought about it. A special pass… from an instructor, headmaster, or… the city lord?

  A slow, devious smile crept onto her face.

  Risha was special. She had clearly proven herself in that fight. Just one second—one measly second—stood between her and her win. She deserved to be in the academy. That was undeniable.

  She could tell Lord Calzone to grant Risha a special pass. It wasn’t cheating—Risha had already earned her place obviously. This was simply… making sure things were fair.

  Right?

  She folded her hands together in thought, eyes twinkling with mischief. She was going to make sure her friend was going to get into the academy.

  “Enya?” Risha nudged her, pulling her out of her scheming. “You’re staring at me kinda weird.”

  “Hm? Oh.” Enya smiled, pressing her hands together in her lap with feigned innocence. “No reason.”

  Risha narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Uh-huh. You sure about that?”

  Enya gave her best angelic smile. “Of course.”

  She stared at her with a skeptical look, but gave up after a few moments. “Well… the redemption matches won’t start until the tournament is finished. I’ll stay here and watch your fights, though.”

  Enya beamed. “You’ll get to watch me win, then!”

  A defeated sigh escaped Risha’s lips before a smile replaced her expression. “You’re way too positive, you know that?”