A week had passed since the incident with the corrupted assistant and the Hidebehind. During that time, many significant developments had occurred throughout the academy.

Kael had successfully completed his entrance examination, passing with flying colors. Not that I'd expected anything less from him - the training and resources I'd provided, combined with his natural talent and determination, made success almost inevitable. His combat performance and theoretical knowledge had impressed the evaluation committee enough to grant immediate admission despite the unusual timing.

He'd been assigned to my classroom, which created quite a stir among the other students. Entry this late into the academic term simply wasn't done under normal circumstances. The fact that he'd been accepted anyway made everyone curious about his identity, his connections, and what power he possessed to warrant such exceptional treatment.

I'd endured numerous subtle and not-so-subtle inquiries about my relationship with the mysterious new student, all of which I'd deflected with vague responses about recognizing potential talent.

During this same week, I'd also carefully introduced Changing Star to Kael. The growing dragon had reached the size of a medium dog now, her rapid development continuing at an alarming pace thanks her powerful skill. She could no longer be easily hidden, which meant anyone living in the mansion needed to know about her existence.

She had also reached the transcendent rank and gained a new offensive skill.

I'd presented her to Kael as "my pet with low draconic bloodline" - not a full dragon, just a magical creature with distant dragon ancestry that gave her impressive size and abilities. It was a half-truth that seemed more believable than the reality of harboring an actual Mythical-rank dragon destined for power that nobody could fathom.

Kael had accepted the explanation without excessive questioning, though I could tell he suspected there was more to Changing Star than I was revealing. He was smart enough not to press for details I clearly wasn't offering.

The most significant development affecting everyone, however, was the announcement of the upcoming Arena Tournament.

For the entire week, the academy had been preparing for this major event - a comprehensive combat tournament where all first-year students would battle to determine rankings and demonstrate their growth since enrollment. It was simultaneously a learning opportunity, entertainment for upper-year students and faculty, and a way to identify standout talents deserving special attention or advanced training.

The atmosphere in class had shifted noticeably as students prepared. Competitive ones like Emmet and Marcus trained with increased intensity. Strategic students like Elen researched opponent capabilities and planned tactical approaches. Even normally reserved students showed signs of nervous anticipation.

This morning, Instructor Sylvia entered the classroom with her usual demeanor, though I detected an undertone of excitement in her expression that suggested even she found tournaments engaging.

"As you all know," she began without preamble, "for the past week, the academy has been preparing for the Arena Tournament where you will all battle it out to determine the strongest first-years."

The room immediately filled with focused attention, conversations cutting off as students turned toward her.

"The tournament format is straightforward: single-elimination bracket with randomized initial pairings. You'll face opponents of varying skill levels, which tests adaptability rather than just raw power. Matches continue until one participant yields, becomes unconscious, or the referee determines they can no longer safely continue."

Several students exchanged nervous glances at the "unconscious" specification.

"Victory demonstrates superior combat capability," Sylvia continued. "But the evaluation isn't solely about winning. We assess tactical decision-making, technique execution, adaptability under pressure, and sportsmanship. A student who loses honorably against a stronger opponent can still earn recognition for excellent performance."

That seemed to relax some of the more anxious students slightly.

"Medical staff will be present for immediate healing of injuries. Lethal techniques are strictly forbidden - this is educational combat, not warfare. Anyone who deliberately attempts to kill or permanently injure an opponent faces immediate expulsion and criminal charges."

Her tone made clear that rule was non-negotiable.

"The tournament takes place over three days. Today features preliminary rounds to reduce the initial bracket. Tomorrow continues with quarterfinals and semifinals. The final day concludes with championship matches and awards ceremony."

Sylvia's gaze swept across the classroom. "This is your opportunity to demonstrate everything you've learned, to test yourselves against peers, and to identify areas requiring improvement. Approach it seriously, but remember it's ultimately a learning experience."

She turned toward the door with purposeful energy.

"So without much more to say, let's head to the arena. Your combat awaits."

Students immediately began standing and gathering their equipment. The nervous energy that had been building all week crystallized into focused anticipation as everyone filed out of the classroom.

I noticed Kael positioning himself near me in the general flow of students moving through the corridors. He looked determined but controlled, showing none of the excessive nervousness that afflicted some others.

"Ready for your first official academy tournament?" I asked quietly.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied with honest assessment.

"You'll do fine. Remember - tactics and adaptability matter as much as raw power."

Elen appeared on my other side, her expression mixing excitement and strategic calculation. "I've been analyzing the class combat capabilities all week. There are some genuinely dangerous opponents in our year."

"Including present company," I noted with slight amusement.

She smiled. "Especially present company. Though I'm hoping the bracket randomization keeps us from facing each other too early."

We emerged from the main building into bright sunlight, following Instructor Sylvia and the stream of first-year students toward the massive arena structure that dominated the academy's southern grounds.

....

The arena was a magnificent structure - a massive circular amphitheater with tiered seating that could accommodate thousands of spectators. Magical barriers separated the combat floor from the audience, ensuring safety while allowing clear viewing. The architecture spoke of both function and grandeur, designed to showcase combat while protecting observers.

All first-year students assembled on the arena floor while upper-year students, faculty, and invited guests filled the surrounding seats. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation and competitive energy.

Headmaster Aldric Thornhaven stood at the central platform, his King-rank presence commanding immediate attention. His voice, enhanced by projection magic, filled the entire arena clearly.

"Welcome to the First-Year Arena Tournament," he began with formal gravitas. "This event represents a critical milestone in your development as awakeners. Combat reveals truth - about your capabilities, your character, and your potential."

He paused, allowing his words to resonate.

"To incentivize excellence and reward achievement, the academy offers substantial prizes for top performers."

Interest sharpened dramatically throughout the assembled students.

"First place receives two hundred thousand academy points."

Audible gasps and excited murmurs erupted. Two hundred thousand points was an astronomical sum - equivalent to roughly four hundred thousand golden coins if converted through academy exchange systems. That amount could genuinely change someone's life trajectory, elevating a commoner to minor nobility or funding years of advanced training and equipment.

"Second place receives fifty thousand points," the Headmaster continued. "Third place receives ten thousand points."

Even third place represented decent wealth for most students. Ten thousand points could help with training resources, or living expenses.

"These rewards are not trivial," Thornhaven emphasized. "They represent genuine opportunity for those with skill and determination to claim them. Let the tournament begin."

The preliminary matches started immediately, with multiple combat rings operating simultaneously to process the large bracket efficiently.

Elen's first match was against a student from one of the weaker classes - someone who'd barely passed entrance examinations and showed minimal development since enrollment. The matchup was unfortunate for her opponent but fortunate for Elen.

The fight lasted less than three minutes. Elen's water manipulation controlled the battlefield completely, creating barriers that prevented approach while launching pressurized water strikes that forced her opponent into defensive positions. When the hapless student attempted a desperate charge, Elen simply encased his legs in frozen water and struck with a concentrated blast that knocked him unconscious.

"Winner: Elen!"

The crowd applauded politely. It had been clinical and efficient, though not particularly exciting given the power disparity.

Emmet's match followed shortly after, pitting him against an Elite-class student from Kyle's classroom - someone with decent capabilities and solid training who might have defeated average opponents.

Against Emmet, he lasted perhaps four minutes.

Emmet fought with his silent intensity, his attacks were overwhelming. He didn't waste movement or energy, simply dismantling his opponent's defense. The Elite student tried various tactics - aggressive offense, defensive positioning, tactical retreat - but nothing worked against Emmet's straightforward dominance.

"Winner: Emmet!"

The crowd responded with more enthusiastic applause. Emmet's combat style was less flashy than some, but his pure skill commanded respect.

Then came a matchup that shocked everyone watching.

"Next match: Kyle versus Marcus!"

Stunned silence followed the announcement, then explosive conversation as students realized what this meant. Both competitors were widely recognized as among the absolute strongest first-years - Kyle with his mysterious golden finger advantages, Marcus with his powerful Ironhold bloodline and noble combat training.

For them to face each other in preliminary rounds rather than semifinals or finals was incredibly unlucky. One of these powerhouses would be eliminated early, denied the opportunity to showcase their full capabilities in later matches.

I leaned forward with intense interest. This would be revealing regardless of outcome.

Kyle entered the ring with confident composure, his expression calm and focused. Marcus approached from the opposite side with grim determination, clearly recognizing the challenge ahead.

The referee signaled start, and both exploded into immediate action.

CLASH! STRIKE! COUNTER!

Their combat was several levels above what previous matches had displayed. Kyle's attacks were refined and precise, enhanced by whatever advantages his golden finger provided. Marcus wielded his family's technique with brutal efficiency, his Ironhold bloodline granting enhanced durability and strength that allowed him to match Kyle's speed with raw power.

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