(A/N Big thanks to everyone for the Power stones and Golden tickets, they mean a lot. As usual, please don't hesitate to comment or drop a review. ENJOY)

Power stones people, Gimme it.

---------------------------------

The Observation Hall was quieter than it had been all day.

No hum of discussion. No side commentary. Only the low pulse of the mana projectors as the eleven translucent screens merged into one seamless display.

At first, no one understood why. The system only did that for duels flagged as "notable."

But then they saw the feed.

In the centre of the forested projection — two figures.

No spells. No lightshows. Just motion. Precise, fast, impossibly clean.

Erevan and Orion.

Every time they clashed, the air distorted slightly, the trees bending from compressed pressure. Their forms blurred, reappeared, then blurred again.

For a moment, no one in the stands spoke.

Then a low whisper broke the silence.

"How are they that fast?"

Another student leaned forward, shaking his head. "It can't be. The frames aren't skipping — the system's actually capturing it."

Down below, a few instructors exchanged glances. The older ones, veterans of past tournaments, looked vaguely unsettled. The younger ones simply stared. The readings along the lower interface flickered erratically — indicators for acceleration, mana release, impact load.

Elysia sat near the front row, posture as straight as ever, chin propped against her hand. Her eyes glowed faintly silver, her Chronos bloodline resonating with the mana signatures on screen.

"Not normal," she murmured.

A nearby instructor turned slightly. "You recognize the technique?"

Elysia shook her head, eyes unmoving. "Technique isn't the word."

She leaned forward, gaze narrowing. "He's restricting himself."

"Restricting?" someone repeated.

She nodded once. "Look closely — Orion's movements aren't constant. His mana output peaks and resets every few seconds. He's maintaining a threshold, not exceeding it. That kind of self-regulation at his age… shouldn't be possible."

The instructor frowned. "He's limiting his power on purpose?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "And not for safety. For control."

Her explanation silenced the rest.

On the main screen, the fight's rhythm shifted. Erevan's stance grounded, his attacks flowing in short, perfect bursts. Orion responded in kind, adapting in microseconds..

Every collision carried a soft burst of sound, subtle enough that it felt unnatural for the violence it represented.

"They're not even trying to harm each other," a student whispered.

Elysia's tone remained even. "They're measuring. Testing control. They're fighting to learn — not to win."

A few of the older faculty nodded slowly. The realisation changed everything. What they were witnessing wasn't arrogance or raw strength. It was understanding — two prodigies dissecting each other's rhythm like scholars mid-lecture.

The projection zoomed in automatically, following Orion's motion as he slid past Erevan's guard, footwork near weightless. Erevan countered instantly, turning the dodge into a grip and redirecting force through leverage alone. The sequence was too complex for first-years to follow, yet too elegant for anyone to look away.

Elysia's eyes narrowed again. Her voice dropped, almost to herself. "He's syncing neural signals with mana flow."

An instructor blinked. "Excuse me?"

"He's accelerating thought-response," she said simply. "Matching it to his body's mana rhythm. It's weird and difficult but he's making it work. I'm not sure if it's instinctive or deliberate."

Her words rippled through the room.

Another instructor, older and sharp-eyed, frowned at the analysis monitor. "That explains the lack of delay between motion and intent. But to do that at this age."

He didn't finish. The implication was clear enough.

Someone from the back whispered, "Are they… even ten?"

No one answered.

The fight continued.

Each minute seemed to fold in on itself — the movements sharper, the responses tighter. The screen magnified again: sweat, small bruises, the strain of exertion visible on both faces. Despite that, neither lost composure. It was as though they were enjoying it.

Orion's next strike broke rhythm — half a beat earlier than expected. Erevan countered out of reflex and missed by an inch. It wasn't a mistake; it was adaptation. Orion had learned the rhythm and rewritten it mid-combat.

Elysia felt something stir in her chest — not surprise, not admiration, but something subtler. The recognition of brilliance.

A soft exhale escaped her. "He's learning while fighting."

That was enough to make one of the professors turn. "Clarify."

"His motor adjustments are matching Erevan's technique faster than recalibration time allows. He's predicting movements before they're made — not by precognition, but through observation. It's instinct processed like logic."

Her tone stayed measured, but her eyes had changed — focused, alight with analytical fascination.

The room stayed still for several seconds. Then another collision — sharper this time, a visible distortion rippling outward. The trees bent again, light scattering across the feed.

A murmur passed through the hall.

"They're exceeding standard acolyte parameters by… what, threefold?"

"Four," someone corrected. "At least."

Even so, the duel remained contained. No large-scale destruction, no uncontrolled energy bursts. Every motion was compact, calculated, clean. The restraint made it more impressive.

"Even their control is coordinated," an instructor said, astonished. "They're keeping collateral under one percent."

Elysia said nothing, though her gaze softened.

'So this is what true potential is like, if only she had someone of similar calibre to keep her entertained.' She thought with a sigh.

The fight continued like a dance — crescents of movement cutting through the clearing, their silhouettes vanishing and reappearing in.

Finally, the pace began to slow.

Orion's movements grew heavier, not from exhaustion but from precision — every strike carrying layered compression, every pivot grounded in total awareness. Erevan responded by refining his stance, minimizing distance until their movements blurred into one continuous rhythm.

For a fleeting instant, their energy resonated perfectly — two frequencies aligning. The projection sensors glitched once, unable to separate their signatures.

The audience held their breath.

Then — stillness.

Both combatants froze mid-strike, motion suspended in balance. Dust hung between them, neither pushed back nor falling. The timer at the corner of the screen stopped.

A thin line of light traced upward from the ground.

"The trial's ending," an instructor murmured.

The students didn't cheer. They didn't move. They just watched as the projection faded slowly to grey.

When the feed finally disappeared, the silence that followed felt absolute.

The head instructor spoke first, his tone quiet but firm.

"Two acolytes reached measured efficiency levels comparable to trained combat mages."

No one responded. The statement was too large to process.

Elysia sat back, exhaling once through her nose. Her expression returned to calm, though her thoughts churned.

She'd known Orion was remarkable. She hadn't expected this.

Limiting himself, calculating in real time, still capable of forcing parity with Erevan — another prodigy whose foundation was perfection itself.

"Interesting," she whispered again, but this time the word carried weight.

Her fingers brushed her chin lightly.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.