"Number 199, number 12," came the referee's voice again. This time, it was the big fellow with the shield… Marcus, right? Rain wasn't entirely good with names.
He was up against that blond-haired noble carrying a light rapier on his side. Approaching the stage with that same arrogance he always carried, the noble, Alan, unsheathed his blade and pointed it nonchalantly towards Marcus.
"Come." And the referee blew his horn. But Marucs didn't move, prompting his opponent to make the first assault, and in addition the first mistake to which he could punish.
Seeing this, Alan moved forward, not letting the pride of a noble be drawn to a battle of mundaneness. This was his stage, and anyone in his way would be trampled like they always were.
He had the highest status, the greatest resources. He was the gleaming jewel of the Adelbert Duchy that governed vast swaths of land and even greater heights of wealth. When the king wanted something done, his father was his best friend. When war was present, their family crest along with the crimson lion would show most abundantly across the battlefield.
Nobility, wealth, strength. Those were the values he envisioned in his rise to power. One day he would inherit the Duchy, becoming the most powerful man below the king, and everyone would have to bow at his feet. This muscle freak with the shield was just a pebble on his gravel road.
With overwhelming speed, he dashed at Marcus, slamming into him from the side with a mana-imbued strike.
It was fast. Fast enough that even some third-tier students struggled to follow its trajectory clearly, and Marcus could perceive it even less so. With his instinct, he was able to turn his shield in time but the strike still pushed him backwards, knocking the breath out of his lungs.
Before he could reorganize his thoughts, Alan came from another direction, this time piercing his arm. By channeling his earth mana into the cut, he was able to stop the strike from dealing significant damage.
And in another fit of genius, he grabbed the thin blade with his hands while it was still stuck in his arm and slammed his rocky fist into Alan.
Alan went flying across the arena stage, bounces a few times on the ground before getting back up. He had blocked some of the strike in the last second with his light mana, but being defensively weak, he was now the one on the backfoot.
"Miscreant!" He shouted in rage. This was a tarnishment to his image. He had wanted to perfectly defeat his enemy, however, due to inexperience with real battle, failed to consider that his opponent could sacrifice to strike–eye for an eye.
With newfound rage, he redoubled his efforts, mana surging through the circuits now visibly lit on his forearms with a light gold glow.
In another charge, he struck Marcus directly, forcing him back a few steps.
He had not wanted to release his full power. He had thought himself a step above everyone else, but the insult to his status had triggered him to take his fights more seriously. No more mistakes.
Rain watched this all unfold through a magic projection in the waiting room. Marcus would lose soon. It was simply a battle of raw power that someone with less resources could not overcome so easily without the capricious gifts of nature. It was too early in life for Marcus to have had any great fortuitous encounters that would shift his fate to greater heights or deeper depths, thus it would be the luckier-born that took the win.
"Winner, 199," the referee called. Marcus fell soon and was walked off stage by one of the mages with punctures riddling his body.
"You did good," Rain said to him as he passed by, walking up for his next battle that was soon to come as the round of 16 concluded.
"Thanks," the big-man responded with a gentle nod.
It was a small gesture, but one that would not go unnoticed nor unreturned.
The round of 8 would now begin.
"Number 109, number 7." His battle was easy. With speed, precision, some cunning, but most importantly overwhelming power, he took out his axe-wielding opponent with relative ease.
And standing in the round of 4 was now Rain, Alan, Edora and a young knight who wasn't weak by any means but was quite lucky to have made it so far.
"Number 109, number 199." Now it was his turn.
Rain stepped up to the stage and looked on towards Alan with a cold stare.
"Come, peasant," Alan called arrogantly, pointing his rapier directly at Rain.
"Try not to lose too terribly," Rain retorted.
"Begin!" came the referee's voice and Alan immediately exploded from his position, charging headfirst at Rain.
"Let me see what the wealth of a Duchy has produced." Rain met Alan head on with his own ice-enchanted tanto, deflecting his snaking strike in one smooth motion. To others, Alan's style focused on speed and dexterity would be troublesome, but to Rain's instincts, Alan was predictable–like a beast, especially in his rage.
"You fight like a cat!" Rain taunted again, eliciting a furious onslaught from Alan.
He's strong.
Despite getting the outcome he wanted, Rain was getting pushed back by Alan. The amount of resources afforded to the heir of the greatest Duchy in the kingdom was more than the mind could imagine, so it was only right that he was obscenely strong.
And though Rain could only see runes and engravings on his bare forearms, he knew that there was a plethora of intricate magic innovations working overdrive beneath his clothes.
His weapon too was a real artifact, able to blend perfectly with his own light mana and withstand the brunt of any force at this level. On paper, he was unbeatable. But one thing he lacked was experience.
Being a noble, especially an heir often resulted in said heir becoming trained within the walls of their stronghold. Few had to hunt for their own share, few had to survive life and death. To be fair, Rain too had not been forged by more than a handful of encounters–still he was much better than Alan.
"Over here, pig!" Rain shouted again. Throughout the match he kept hurling insults, each time striking Alan with a smidgen of his ice mana as he made his openings apparent in his attacks blinded by anger.
"Shut up!" Alan yelled back, charging again, this time with even more vigor than before.
He saw that Rain was beginning to tire and took the opportunity between breaths to strike him when he wasn't ready. And it was working.
Rain was panting, slow, he didn't raise his blade in time.
Just an inch away and his rapier would pierce through his throat. He imagined his pale body being dragged away as the mages did their best to piece him together, and he would be the victor.
But just before his strike connected, a grin formed on Rain's face.
It unsettled him. He was sure he had won.
But just then, a light appeared beneath his feet.
It was a formation, and from it an explosion of ice mana erupted. With his speed, he was able to dodge some but not its entirety.
Alan hopped away slowly, half his body now frozen in solid ice. He couldn't run, he couldn't attack. He tried to channel his mana into his side but cracks began to form as soon as he tried and he coughed up a mouthful of blood, his circulation of both blood and mana now failing him.
"You've lost."
Rain stood there like nothing had happened. His breathing was normal, and the air was cool with mana particles.
"You tricked me!" Alan shouted. Before he could say anything more, another bloody cough came through.
"Ahh-!" He screamed again, forcing all his mana into his side.
The ice began to crack, but as it did, so did his body.
'I only need one leg.' He thought.
And as the referee was about to signal the winner, Alan erupted from the ice, tearing away one of his sides, rapier pointed with one arm straight towards Rain.
But just as he was one step away from victory, a sudden shock overtook his body, dropping him to the ground in a mess of ice and bloodied gurgling.
"Winner, 109, Rain!" The referee announced as mages quickly circled Alan, defrosting, healing and sowing his body back together before more damage could be incurred.
Rain on the other hand casually walked back to the waiting room as he was showered in the gazes of the entire arena.
He waved to the shocked faces of Eve and Aurora before disappearing into the tunnel.
"When did he get so strong?" Eve asked rhetorically, and Aurora simply tilted her head to the side at Eve's remark.
'Did she not know?' she thought…