Four more battles passed before Leon's name came up, facing off against another first-year. Unlike my opponent, this one was a female wind mage on the third first-year team, who had managed to scrape by with only two remaining members.

The fight lasted several minutes, Leon using his bow and arrows to attack from a distance while she blasted with powerful gusts of wind. Although he had some difficulty at first, we had not spent months training and preparing for nothing. His bow had several modifications to it, and a subtle infusion of mana into the string granted his arrows increased force and penetrative strength.

Caught off guard, the wind mage was unable to properly deflect the attacks, as two arrows pierced through her wind walls and bit deep into her shoulder and upper leg. It was not unexpected when she conceded defeat after that.

Sophia's match reminded me once more that I should stay in her good graces. She was facing off against a potent earth mage, another member of Flynn's team. Considering his fledgling reputation as a skilled duelist and earth magic possessing an advantage over lightning, I thought the fight would be brutal.

It took her only fifteen seconds to win, bolts bouncing off multiple walls and slamming into Joshua's back, sending him twitching to the ground.

Finally, Amelia faced off against her opponent, another member of Flynn's team, some noble who's name I never bothered learning. He was one of a dozen mewling sycophants that followed Sion around, and his skills were mediocre at best. Unfortunately for him, he was a water mage, and Amelia had more than enough experience sparring Simon to know what to expect.

Although I had initially believed she was similar to Leon, learning a combat style to compensate for innate limitations, Amelia was beginning to show me that was not the case. She had used a sizeable amount of mana in the fourth trial, and yet was barely breathing heavily moving into this final challenge.

Crossing my arms, I stared at the board, observing her fight and wishing I could pierce the veil she kept over her mana. Although I did not distrust her, something in my gut said she kept vital information from me. Of course, I could not exactly blame her considering the magnitude of the things I kept hidden, but still. The only thing worse than a hypocrite was an unaware one.

A few hard strikes from a frost-shrouded staff, a dozen spells frozen in mid-air, and a nasty case of frostbite on his arm, and Amelia's opponent forfeited.

After several dozen matches, it seemed every apprentice had fought at least once. It had taken several hours by this point, and I had ample opportunity to recover a large chunk of my core, roughly a third by my estimate.

My second match was against a third-year, concerning in its own right, but far from the most noteworthy thing about the fight. I was fighting Jason Millen, the elder brother of my first opponent. If I did not know any better, I would suspect whatever god or gods watched over our world had a grudge against me.

Either that or far more likely, someone in power in the Academy was pulling strings and orchestrating specific fights to watch what they hoped to see. Truthfully, I would almost prefer the divine interference explanation.

While his brother looked pale, uncertain, and meek, Jason was the epitome of a confident, powerful young man. His clothing was immaculate, his hair slicked back with expensive oils, and his sneer nearly a thing of beauty. I stared at him blankly, wondering why in the Founder's names would anyone, even a wealthy nobleman, waste so much gold pampering themselves for a brutal, violent battle.

The moment the match began, he began weaving the same spell that Phillip had attempted, moving with slightly faster speed. I paused before pushing off the ground, knowing that closing the gap was still my best bet. A dozen feet from him, I felt his mana shift suddenly, and his sneer turned from subtle arrogance to supreme confidence.

Swearing, I slid to a halt and knelt to the ground, pulling on my mana and gathering it up into a shield just barely in time. An instant after the transparent green sphere appeared around me, a wave of bright golden flames slammed into me, pushing me back several feet from the force of the spell.

It seems that Jason was not only more powerful but more cunning than his brother. He had purposefully used the same spell at a comparable speed, hoping to goad me into charging him to catch me off-guard. If my reflexes and mana sensory skills had not been quite as good, it would have ended with me as a charred mark on the ground.

Kneeling on the ground, I could feel waves of heat even through my shield, sending sweat running down my face. I continued funneling mana into my spell, trying to think of a move to escape. I did not recognize the attack at a glance, but considering the waves of energy I felt radiating off of Jason, he did not intend to let up his offensive any time soon.

Feeling the waves of heat from the golden flames that licked my position, I continued funneling mana into my shield, waiting for an opportunity. When ten seconds had passed without letting up, and the air had become uncomfortably hot, I realized that he had no intentions of stopping his attack.

So, the Millen family wanted revenge and planned to roast me alive. It seemed that sly cunning was not the same thing as common sense. Either that, or he felt his family was powerful enough to escape any significant consequences for purposefully maiming another student, in direct violation of the tournament's rules.

Focusing, I thought back to my spellcasting classes over the previous months and precisely Professor Merton's technique. Splitting my focus, I bound the Mana Shield to my core, feeling the spell snap into place and begin draining my energy at a constant rate. I could only maintain it for another minute or so, but that should be just enough time to finish off this fight.

Stepping forward and feeling the waves of flames push against my shield, I moved towards Jason, unable to see anything through a sea of gold. Despite this, my mana senses told me exactly where he stood, and I walked assuredly, adjusting the grip on my sword and keeping my steps calm and balanced.

Suddenly, the flames cut out, revealing a dumbfounded Jason, his mouth hanging open.

"What the hell?..." he muttered, staring at me with both hands still outstretched.

Although I knew I might have overplayed my hand, there was no point in not finishing the battle while I had the chance. Stepping forward, I swung my sword backhanded at his shoulder, and he paused only briefly before erecting a golden-yellow wall of flames on his right side. Unfortunately for him, I was more than fast enough to alter my strike and avoid his defense attempt.

Twisting my wrist, I directed my sword down sharply, biting into the flesh of his upper thigh, diagonally cutting across his limb. When my blade cleared to the other side of his body, I slipped it back into his guard, cutting along his left shoulder and eliciting a wince of pain.

Again, he showed me the difference between his brother's skills and his own, merely grimacing before pushing back hard, a burst of flames forcing me to back-peddle to avoid a bad burn. Still, despite escaping, for now, I knew the cut to his thigh would severely limit his speed. More than that, his wide-eyed look told me something far more critical.

He was scared.

By his reckoning, I had shrugged off his attack, appearing from the blast of flames and cutting into him with almost casual ease. A wiser mage could and likely would realize I was injured, drained of mana, and barely standing, but he was not one of them. All he saw was a sixteen-year-old who was staring at him fearlessly, ready to cut him down.

"I will allow you to surrender now. Give up and avoid further injury." I said quietly, knowing he would never accept my offer.

It got exactly the reaction I expected, which was a twisted look of rage and an incoherent roar as he threw forward his hand, letting loose a powerful blast of flames. Conventional wisdom said I should step backward or to the side, but I had just enough mana left for one final trick.

Instead, I leaped forward, only having enough mana to form a half-sphere of energy in front of me. Thankfully, it was barely enough to block the spell, though I smelt the acrid scent of burning hair and an uncomfortable stinging as I moved. Landing in front of him, I stepped forward and swung hard at his head, taking advantage of his shock at the bold move.

Unlike last time, he was too slow to muster a spell, and the flat of my blade slammed into the side of his head, knocking him to the ground. I stepped forward, pointing the tip of my sword to his face, but the glazed look in his eyes told me he was in no shape to continue fighting.

A second later, the proctor called an end to our fight, and I stepped backward, stumbling slightly as what little remained of my mana slipped from my grasp. Taking a steadying breath, I sheathed my sword and straightened my back, walking from the room as gracefully as I could manage.

The moment I returned to the waiting room, I sat down heavily in a chair, taking several deep breaths and feeling a wave of nausea hit me. I rarely felt the sensations but knew from my reading that I was experiencing mana withdrawal, an unpleasant condition for most. My head throbbed, my muscles ached, I could detect mild burns on patches of my skin, and it felt as if shattered glass had been worked into my ankle.

Despite this, I learned something useful in this tournament worth the small mountain of injuries I had accumulated. Remaining in Ferris was no longer worth the potential risks of discovery or insulting the wrong person. The Esttons and their influence gave me a measure of protection, but it was only a matter of time until Flynn or another noble made it a point to cause problems for me.

Still, I knew this was a likely consequence of performing well in the tournament, and knew the risk was worth it in the end. If we placed highly and earned a prize, I hoped to leverage it for something valuable from the Esttons as a reward for my services.

And when Flynn finally decided to try and take a more direct form of vengeance on me, I had the beginnings of a plan to deal with him. It was not nearly complete yet, but I could think about it more when the tournament ended.

"Vayne!" a voice called, breaking my thoughts, and I looked up to see Leon standing only a foot away, staring at me.

"Yes, sir?" I asked, tilting my head to one side as I met his eyes.

"The board..." he muttered, pointing across the room. I followed his hand and felt a chill run along my spine, and I could not help but let out a snort when I saw that my name was listed again, just a few short matches after my previous. It seems that whoever was in charge of these battles had no intention of letting me rest quite yet.

Standing, I grimaced before smiling at Leon, replying, "Thank you, sir. I will be back shortly."

My opponent stood across from me in the arena, and I felt a chill wind across the gap, blue eyes so dark they were almost black meeting my gaze. The stories told in classrooms and dining halls had informed me about who he was, but I had never seen him in person.

Arenius Ollas, the strongest apprentice in the Academy and the only dark element currently enrolled. If half the stories were true, he was shy of Archmagus level talent by the slightest measure, and only regarding his natural raw power. In terms of skill, control, and overall mastery of his element, he was unmatched.

And he was far, far too strong for me to hope to compete against.

The proctor glanced between the two of us, and I met Arenius' eyes coolly, knowing there was only one option left available to me.

The instant the proctor signaled the match to begin, I stepped forward and raised my head, shouting at the top of my lungs.

"I surrender!"