The first day of the tournament ended far more peacefully than anyone had expected—no casualties, no unexpected disasters, only awe-inspiring battles that left the stadium buzzing with excitement.
This year held the most promising competitors the kingdom had seen in decades, each duel revealing new wonders. But nothing caught the world off guard as much as the spell that shattered expectations: a single sixteen-year-old launching magic powerful enough to bypass the arena's reinforced barrier. Such a feat had never even been whispered about in the past.
Like father, like son—the Reginald family truly lived up to its reputation for producing the unexpected.
After a brief intermission, the stadium softened into a relaxed chatter. Food vendors shouted out last-minute sales, children ran between seats with glowing snacks, and adults compared the battles they had just witnessed. Above it all, the warm colors of the setting sun cast a golden glow over the massive arena, making the stone arcs appear almost aflame.
The commentator stepped onto the center of the ring, his charismatic voice amplifying across the arena as though the air itself leaned in to listen.
"Okay, folks! I think we can all agree today was wonderful! We witnessed stunning fights—mages wielding swords like seasoned knights, swordsmen controlling magic like elemental spirits! What a thrill today has been!" The crowd roared in agreement as he dramatically raised a glowing parchment that materialized out of thin air. "Now, here are today's results and the qualifiers for the next round!"
He began reading:
"Robby Duran versus Kevin Dominic — winner: Kevin Dominic.
Jayden Reginald versus Victor Paschal — winner: Jayden Reginald.
Nadia Samir versus Riz Chevro — winner: Nadia Samir.
Ren Alphonsus versus Amy Desona — winner: Ren Alphonsus.
Judas Carlotis versus Erick Onyeman — winner: Judas Carlotis.
Samuel Notes versus Simon Zain — winner: Simon Zain.
Jero Ugah versus Levi Henso — winner: Levi Henso.
Lucas Volt versus Zeta Hex — winner: Lucas Volt."
He lowered the list and spread his arms wide. "These are your victors! The tournament continues tomorrow. That's all for today, folks! And remember—this celebration lasts four glorious days. Don't come tomorrow without bringing more people! Goodnight!"
With an exaggerated bow and a puff of smoke, he vanished.
The stadium erupted into applause as people began leaving, some excitedly recounting the battles, others remaining to talk with friends and family, unwilling to let the rush of adrenaline fade.
Up on the highest balcony—reserved for nobles, executives, honored guests, and past tournament champions—King Clenor rose from his throne and stretched.
"Well, that was quite the spectacle," the king said, his deep voice carrying the tone of someone thoroughly impressed.
To his right stood General Lance, a tall and muscular veteran with scars etched across his body like medals from countless battles. His thick beard—one of the few patches of hair he still possessed—shifted as he stroked it thoughtfully.
"Yes indeed," Lance replied. "Those children exceeded all expectations. Such strength and composure at their age… they remind me that the new generation may outshine all who came before."
Near them, Kyrian Xelix, the reigning Swords and Magic Tournament champion, nodded eagerly. "That Jayden kid is something extraordinary," Kyrian said. "His control, his instincts—I haven't seen talent like that in years."
Luke, the King's Blade and long-time friend of King Clenor, smiled proudly. "Well, I'll be taking my leave. I've got some students to congratulate—and a son to check on. See you later, Clenor."
He tapped the king's shoulder, stepped onto the edge of the balcony, and leapt off. The wind caught him as he lowered his gravity with a simple spell, descending like a feather toward the stadium floor.
Luke and King Clenor had been inseparable since childhood―over thirty years of friendship, long before either of them understood words like "king," "duty," or "throne." Their bond was a quiet constant between them.
Landing gently, Luke spotted his group: 2, Nadia, Ren, and Shaley walking together toward the exit. The evening breeze fluttered their clothes, carrying the fading scent of roasted snacks and stirred-up dust from the arena.
"Hey, kids! You all did great today!" Luke called out as he approached.
2 held Shaley's hand, and Nadia rested casually on Ren's shoulder, the exhaustion of their battles softened by the comfort of companionship.
"Oh, hi Dad," 2 said with a faint smile.
"Good evening, Mr. Luke," the others greeted politely.
They began chatting about their matches, replaying their favorite moments, laughing at near-mistakes, and sharing thoughts about their upcoming opponents. But 2 noticed Shaley's quiet expression—the hint of disappointment she tried to hide.
2 noticed it too. Leaning close, he whispered into her ear, "Don't worry. If you weren't cheering for me, I wouldn't have enjoyed the fight at all."
Shaley's eyes widened, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink as she gave him a small, grateful hug.
Luke stretched out his hand, and a swirl of controlled wind wrapped around the group like a gentle tide.
"Alright! Time to head home. We need rest—and strategy for tomorrow's matches."
The wind lifted them lightly off the ground and carried them forward, gliding them toward the exit like drifting feathers.
Luke watched them with a soft, content smile.
"I'm so glad my son has friends like this," he thought warmly. "He's growing… and he's not growing alone."
The night air outside the stadium was cool, carrying the lingering buzz of excitement. Lanterns glowed along the streets, and fireworks cracked faintly in the distance—Avarice celebrating the end of a perfect first day.
Tomorrow, the real difficult battles would begin.