"This is it… it's so massive,"
2 exclaimed in wonder, staring up at the fully built stadium.
He admired it for a few seconds before heading toward the separate contestant gate.
Contestants, close friends, and families had a different entrance from the cheering crowds, leading them to entirely different parts of the structure.
The stadium itself was enormous—a circular colosseum with an open ceiling that let beams of light pour through.
Its blue-and-white framework arched high above rows of seats stretching all around. At its heart stood the ring, perfectly centered.
Two grand entrances faced the arena floor: one designated for mages, the other for swordsmen.
High above, a royal balcony overlooked the battlefield—reserved for the king and distinguished figures.
Luke and Sarah, both high officers in the kingdom's affairs, had seats there, but they declined in hopes of watching like normal parents among the crowd.
Only Sarah succeeded; Luke, however, was required to remain at the king's side as his bodyguard.
Earlier, Luke had met up with 2 as they casually walked toward the participants' area.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to ask—what's going to happen if I disappear during the fight?" 2 asked, while Luke waved to admirers calling his name from every direction.
"Huh? What do you mean, kiddo?"
"Remember, I'm a clone. If I take an exceed amount of damage, I'll disappear—poof—into a cloud of smoke." 2 added a theatrical hand gesture with the poof, clearly trying to tease his already worried father.
"You'll probably be disqualified as a cheat.
Good heavens… is there anything else important you conveniently forgot to tell me?"
Luke asked slowly, unsure how to deal with the idiot known as his son.
"Nah, nothing I can think of… yet," Z replied, scratching his head, as if digging for missing details.
"You really didn't think this through, did you?" Luke shook his head with mock disappointment.
"I did! I was supposed to be out of the chamber of time yesterday, but I didn't come out," 2 replied quickly, refusing to be labeled dumb.
"And you're not worried he hasn't come out yet?" Luke asked, confused by his son's relaxed attitude.
"I haven't felt anything wrong. If anything feels off, I'll break the skill immediately. Chill dad. Don't you believe I'm strong enough to win without getting hit?"
Luke looked at Jayden for a moment before sighing in resignation as they reached their destination.
They arrived at the mage participants' section—an enclosed space prepared exclusively for combatants.
"Hey guys, you're early," 2 greeted as he looked around.
"What the hell are you talking about? You're late," Robby snapped, and the others nodded in agreement.
"Oh… sorry. I'm here now, aren't I" 2 said with a casual wave.
There were eight chairs arranged in a row, with four more behind them for mentors.
"It's about to start," Ren said as he tugged 2 toward the chair beside him and Nadia.
"I'm a clone, you guys—can you believe it?" 2 whispered, expecting shock. Instead, he was met with disappointment.
"Okay," they both replied flatly, turning their attention back to the central stage.
"You're not even surprised?"
"To be honest? Not one bit, actually" Nadia said calmly.
"If you think about it, your power is logic disruption. Disrupting logic—it's that simple. It's like adding two and two," Rex said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.
"Whatever… you guys are fun spoilers," 2 muttered sulkily.
A sudden burst of light interrupted them, ending the conversation immediately as a massive blue screen appeared in the sky.
The speaker's face appeared on it, a voice-amplifying magic orb hovering beside him.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen—mages, swordsmen, and swordswomen alike—to the 25th Swords and Mages Tournament!"
The stadium erupted into thunderous cheers as banners and fireworks painted the sky on cue.
The speaker raised his hand, and the cheers dimmed down slowly, allowing the speaker to continue.
"Long, long ago—exactly a century past—when we lived in fear of dragons and spiritual beasts… when our magic was weak and our survival uncertain… during the great war, when defeat loomed over us, a single man appeared. A lone figure who saved us from our impending doom."
He paused dramatically, allowing the story—one every Avarice child grew up hearing—to settle into the minds of the audience.
Clearing his throat, he continued, "The man ended the war single-handedly. He stayed with us, taught us how to properly use magic, and before he vanished forever, he left us with these words:
'How can you lose to those below you? Why remain weak? Become strong enough to protect yourselves and your generations to come. Be your own savior.'
Simple words—but they lit a fire in our hearts and made us ask, Why remain weak?"
A wave of pride swept through the crowd.
"This tournament, held every four years, commemorates the strength we've built. Not only in adults—but in our children as well. So, without further ado, let the tournament begin!"
He raised both arms, and the crowd exploded with a cheer so powerful it seemed to shake the foundation of the stadium itself, the wild cheers reverberating all through the royal capital.
"I'm sure everyone knows the rules," he continued, "but forgive me as I bore you by repeating them."
The crowd laughed.
"The rules are as follows:
No dark or cursed artifacts are allowed.
The consumption of any mana-enhancing pills except the ones provided by the appropriate officials will result in immediate disqualification.
A match ends as soon as an opponent cannot continue, forfeits, or the referees call it off.
Lastly, finishing moves that may cause death or an incurable conditions are strictly prohibited. Enjoy!"
He clapped his hands together.
"Now, I'll present the eight participants from each team."
Blue screens materialized across the stadium, showing the fighters and their teams.
"I shall now randomly select the first pair to fight. Oh? I hear coins jingling already—bets are being placed. Let's make this interesting!"
Two opaque magic boxes, one red, one blue with a transparent side appeared.
When mana was infused, paper slips shot upward.
This was to prevent the accusation of, as well as actual cheating.
The speaker placed his hands on both sides and infusing mana in it, two paper slips, one from each shot out.
The speaker caught them gracefully.
"Hmm… an interesting matchup," he said, stirring suspense.
Meanwhile, in the royal balcony, the king spoke quietly to Luke.
"Are the knights all on standby?" The king asked.
"Yes. They're positioned, and the Renaissance team is on alert."
"Good. Any sign of Sabrina?" He continued.
"No, Your Highness. Nothing yet."
The king relaxed, giving Luke a friendly smile and offering him a seat.
"Now that the serious matters are settled, enough tension. Sit, my friend. It's been long since we talked simple, trivial fun things like actual friends."
Luke sighed with relief and settled into the chair.
"I hope this isn't the real reason you separated me from my wife," Luke joked. "You'd lose by a large margin if you were comparing."
"Still a joker, aren't you? Unfortunately, I'm not into men," the king laughed. "But tell me—I hear your son is competing as a mage. How do you feel? You once said he must be a swordsman."
"Come on, that was eighteen years ago—I was young and stupid. Truth is, you might not believe it, but my son is going to be the strongest swordsman and the strongest mage before long."
"Is that so? Then surely you can bet he'll win the tournament?" the king teased.
"Not to sound pompous, but this whole tournament is just to let my boy shine. Well… unless he disappears in his first match,"
Luke added with a hint of doubt.
"Is that so? Well, let's see," the king chuckled, tapping Luke's shoulder.
The speaker's voice boomed:
"The pair kicking off the tournament is: Robby Duran for the mages… versus Kevin Dominic for the swordsmen!"
"Oh, so he's starting first. Let's see if he's as much of a monster as his predecessor," Luke muttered, a hint of anger in his tone.