The sophomore competition had finally commenced, and the grand arena, sprawling wide enough to comfortably accommodate several hundred students, sat right at the heart of the school campus.
Freshmen, sophomores, and upperclassmen alike had gathered together for the spectacle, each group carrying its own distinct set of expectations for what was about to unfold.
Most of the noise came from the freshmen side, given this marked their very first experience with an event of this scale since arriving at the school.
It felt thrilling, almost surreal, finally witnessing in person what so many of them had only ever caught glimpses of through television screens or phones back home. The excitement in their section ran so high it was nearly impossible to fully contain.
Their own turn in the spotlight would come a few weeks later, an important early experience meant to teach them how to properly interact with peers while sharpening their own abilities, talents, and combat instincts along the way.
But the true weight of tension surrounding this particular event centered squarely on the sophomores, widely regarded as the school’s next generation of rising stars.
That reputation alone guaranteed heavy rivalry, fierce pride, and mounting pressure among their peers, making their matches considerably more compelling to watch than most.
Already, at the center of the platform, a battle raged between two sophomores. One was a Horned Mollusk Snail summoner, rated 3.6, a Low Level Elite Tier. His summon carried a set of sprawling horns capable of gathering charged energy before releasing it through its stalk like eyes, using them as a focused conduit.
His opponent controlled a 4.0 Elite Tier Dire Wolf.
The wolf moved with the deft precision of a seasoned predator, weaving effortlessly around each attack the snail attempted.
Its summoner simply stood back with arms folded, a confident smirk fixed on his face, fully trusting his summon’s raw speed to carry him comfortably through the fight while he enjoyed the show.
The snail summoner advanced steadily while his own summon stayed rooted in place, functioning almost like a stationary offensive fortress, continuing to fire off charged projectiles without pause.
By holding its ground, it maintained a steady, favorable firing angle against attacks approaching from multiple directions at once.
The summoner suddenly stretched out both hands, and thick trails of snail slime erupted violently across the surrounding floor just as the wolf launched into its next attack run.
Caught in the unstoppable momentum of its own speed, the wolf had no time to correct course, its paws sliding wildly out from under it before it crashed down hard against the slick, glistening surface.
Before it could scramble back upright, the charged energy beam struck it directly, searing straight through fur, skin, and muscle with roasting intensity.
The stench of burning hair and cooked flesh rolled outward across the platform as the creature let out a high, agonized squeal, thrashing weakly against the ground, one entire flank blistered and blackened beneath the smoking, ruined patch of its once thick coat.
Its summoner’s eyes bulged from their sockets in horror as medical staff rushed the wolf away toward the school nurse, its pained whimpers trailing behind it the whole way.
Heavy cheers, whistles, chants, and wild celebration erupted through the stands like a sudden detonation. Students reacted with genuine, unrestrained excitement at the brutal, lightning fast finish, the sheer suddenness of it only feeding further into the crowd’s growing bloodlust and competitive spirit.
"Darren Willows, the Horned Mollusk Snail summoner, wins the round!" the referee announced, punctuating the call with a sharp blast of his whistle.
The declaration only intensified the reaction from the stands, students cheering and chanting Darren’s name over and over.
That kind of overwhelming crowd reaction remained one of the most critical, electric elements of any competitive match held inside a public arena, coliseum, or stadium, no different from any other major sporting event.
It fed directly into the morale and confidence of contestants still waiting for their own turn, fuel thrown straight onto an already roaring fire.
"Next up, Mark Moulow versus Max Roller!" the referee’s voice boomed energetically across the arena’s speaker system.
A fresh ripple of excitement swept instantly through the stands.
"Wait, Mark Moulow?"
"Isn’t that the new summoner everyone’s been talking about?"
"That’s Max Roller. He’s one of Kai’s guys."
"Already? They’re throwing Mark up against him this early?"
The freshmen section in particular grew noticeably more animated. Plenty had already heard whispered rumors surrounding Mark’s sudden awakening, while others simply burned with curiosity, eager to see whether the former mundy could genuinely live up to the shocking results that had rattled the entire school.
Handing off his belongings to Hermione, Mark stepped forward as sunlight poured directly across his face, alongside the sheer weight of countless eyes now fixed squarely on him.
His expression never shifted, not even under that spotlight, as he continued forward without hesitation.
His mind remained largely undisturbed by the crowd or the pressure of the stage itself.
Instead, his thoughts settled firmly on the fact that he’d been paired directly against Max, one of Kai’s own subordinates, and easily one of the more recognized names among the sophomore class.
It seemed obvious enough that the school wanted to test him against someone already established, rather than waste his first real match on an easy, forgettable opponent.
Whether that decision was meant to expose his actual limits, or simply put him firmly back in his place, remained genuinely unclear.
Mark climbed onto the southern side of the battle platform while Max already stood waiting across from him on the northern end.
Max held his arms folded, expression deceptively casual, as though quietly composing himself in the lead up to the fight.
The platform itself stretched well past fifty meters across, more than spacious enough to accommodate even towering giants without immediately running short on room.
Their eyes met. A thick, mounting tension settled instantly into the space between them.
Mark remained perfectly steady, his composure smooth and unreadable as polished glass.
That alone was enough to visibly crack something behind Max’s expression, his casual mask slowly slipping the longer the silence stretched on. Mark understood well enough that this particular brand of quiet, contained hostility often proved far more dangerous than anything loud or obvious.
He’d freely admit, at least to himself, that he felt genuinely wary right now.
"Great. Now that I’m no longer restrained by school rules from actually going all out on you, today’s finally the day we settle this properly, full pride, full fury, everyone claiming exactly where they belong," Max said, eyes never once leaving Mark’s face.
He smirked. "No lady’s skirt to hide beneath this time, hehe."
A handful of students in the stands laughed at the jab, while others watched Mark closely instead, curious how he’d choose to respond.
"I still remember you being the very first person to punch me in the face, back when you were nothing but a cocky, blind bully during freshman year, and honestly, things looked pretty similar again at the start of sophomore year too. You’ve got a lot of nerve talking about shame, considering you didn’t even bother bringing along the one victim you seem to loathe most."
Mark slid one hand casually into his pocket, tilting his head slightly to one side.
"But as far as my own principles go, I won’t stoop to repeating what you did. I’ll show mercy instead."
His words drew a wave of exchanged glances across the crowd.
Mercy was a word usually reserved for people who already believed they held overwhelming strength over their opponent.
Hearing it come from Mark, especially given his sudden, meteoric rise from mundy to Monarch Tier summoner, made the statement land less like empty arrogance and considerably more like a genuine, calculated challenge.
Max’s fury flared instantly, jaw clenching tight enough to ache. His eyes gleamed with sudden heat, though he managed to catch himself, if only barely.
" Why do I always end up like this around this particular guy? This isn’t even the first time I’ve caught myself spiraling like this, but I really need to stay rational for once. This whole thing feels insane, borderline unhinged. It’s like I’m stuck on some invisible leash under his control, snapping like some ruthless animal every single time.
This can’t keep happening. I need to actually think, just once.
But he genuinely needs to be put in his place here, properly, and this might honestly be one of the only chances I get. I’ll show him exactly what it feels like carrying this kind of pressure around, after this round’s finished."
Following that thought, he drew in one slow, deliberate breath before unleashing his summon, materializing suddenly from a swirling portal beside him.
The five foot tall creature carried a long, pig like snout equipped with an unusually powerful sense of smell. Its entire body was encased in a hardened, bony carapace, broken into flexible, three banded segments running across its middle, granting its otherwise rigid frame surprising flexibility.
The creature settled instantly into a ready combat stance, eyes sharp and fully focused under its summoner’s direction.
This was the Bowling ArmoredDrillo, a 5.0 Top Level Elite Tier summon carrying the potential to eventually reach a full 6.0 High Tier.
It clearly carried an impressive, balanced combination of both offense and defense, its gleaming, segmented armor hinting strongly at some hidden ability still waiting to catch its opponent off guard.
The crowd’s noise dipped slightly. Even students who had been cheering wildly only moments earlier now leaned forward, watching closely.
Max had deliberately chosen a summon built for both attack and defense in equal measure, while Mark had yet to reveal anything about what his newly awakened Monarch Tier status actually meant once real combat began.
The referee glanced back and forth between the two combatants, his expression shifting into something noticeably more serious than before.
For the first time since the competition had officially begun, the entire arena seemed to hold its breath in collective anticipation.
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