My System Doesn't Give Power

The first few matches ended exactly as Simon had warned.

Some students coated their entire bodies in mana and charged in recklessly, only for their coating to collapse after a few exchanges. Others concentrated too much mana in their arms and neglected their legs, making it painfully easy for their opponents to force them out of bounds.

A few strutted onto the stages brimming with confidence, then completely fell apart under pressure and had to be carried off by the medical staff.

Marty even watched one boy trip over his own footwork and stumble straight across the boundary. "That’s gotta hurt. Emotionally, I mean."

The matches continued at a brisk pace. With five fights happening simultaneously, keeping track of everything quickly became a lost cause.

Referees called numbers almost nonstop. Students stepped forward, fought for a few minutes, and disappeared back into the crowd before most spectators had even figured out who they were watching.

Then a voice rang out from Stage Three. "Stage Three, Match Six! Lot number thirty-nine against sixty-two!"

Zac lifted his head. "Finally."

He stepped forward, only for Marty’s hand to land heavily on his shoulder.

"Good luck. And don’t embarrass me." Marty gestured solemnly toward the nearly vacant stands. "Especially in front of this historically massive audience."

A faint smile tugged at Zac’s lips.

Daniel gave him a firm nod. "Don’t underestimate him."

"I won’t." Zac rolled one shoulder. "I’m a tiger when it comes to fighting." With that, he headed toward the stage.

Sabrina watched him go. "Such a poser."

Kelly blinked. "You mean the tiger part? But he doesn’t look anything like one."

Sabrina turned her deadpan stare toward her. "He didn’t mean literally, Kelly. A tiger uses everything it has even when hunting a rabbit. The prey being weaker doesn’t mean it becomes careless."

Kelly’s eyes lit up in realization. "So that’s what he meant."

Sabrina gave a small nod before returning her attention to the stage.

Zac’s opponent was a broad-shouldered boy from Class B with short brown hair and a wooden training axe strapped across his back.

The referee checked both VSBs. "Zac Dellencore, Class A, versus Ronan Pierce, Class B."

Ronan rolled his shoulders and pulled the axe free. "So you’re the troublemaker from Class A."

"Apparently." Zac’s expression barely changed.

Ronan tightened his grip. "Don’t take this personally. I’m planning to make it into the top twenty, at least."

"Good goal." Zac tilted his head. "Though haven’t you heard you’re supposed to aim higher?"

The referee raised her hand.

"Begin!"

Mana surged around Ronan’s arms, and he lunged forward like a charging bull, both hands gripping the axe as he brought it around in a wide arc.

Zac didn’t move, not until the blade was almost on him. Then his body dipped beneath the swing.

Ronan’s axe tore through empty air as Zac slipped past him in one fluid motion and appeared at his back.

Mana gathered over Zac’s left palm, and he placed it against Ronan’s back.

Nothing dramatic, nothing flashy, just a small push, and Ronan’s own momentum did the rest.

His forward rush, the missed swing, and Zac’s perfectly timed shove combined into one miserable equation. Ronan stumbled several steps before pitching off the stage and crashing face-first onto the arena floor.

Silence lasted for half a heartbeat.

The referee glanced down at Ronan, then back at Zac.

"Winner, Zac Dellencore!"

Zac stepped off the stage and approached Ronan as the boy pushed himself upright.

"Your mana control is pretty good. You just need more practical experience using it in a fight." Zac nodded toward the stage. "And better control over your momentum."

Ronan’s face tightened. "I don’t need tutoring from a troublemaker." He turned and walked away.

Zac watched him go. "This is why I never try to be kind."

[Kindness is not measured by whether the recipient appreciates it.]

Zac’s eyebrow twitched. "Sensei mode already?"

He returned to the seating area and dropped into the space beside the others, and Marty greeted him with a wink. "That was fast."

"What can I say?" Zac leaned back. "I’m pretty cool."

Shobin slowly turned toward him. "Why are you starting to sound like Adrian?"

Marty immediately shoved himself into the conversation.

"You guys didn’t know? Zac’s a narcissist too. He’s nowhere near Adrian’s league, obviously, but the disease is definitely there."

Zac stared at him. "Can you keep your mouth shut for one minute, Marty?"

Up in the stands, Murphy’s attention remained fixed on Zac. "His mana usage was quite good."

Matilda glanced toward him. "Zac? Well, aside from his remarkable talent for causing trouble for everyone around him, he’s a good kid."

Murphy kept watching the arena.

"The fight looked simple, but it wasn’t. He avoided the attack without wasting movement, used exactly enough mana in that push to redirect his opponent’s momentum, and reinforced his footing at the same time."

Matilda’s gaze shifted toward Simon. "I heard you sparred with him, Sir Simon. What do you think?"

Murphy’s head snapped around. "You sparred with him?"

Simon remained as unreadable as ever. "It was nothing significant. I wanted to see how well he’d trained his mana coating."

Murphy stared at him for a moment. "Well, if he’s already at the level where he can spar with you using mana coating, I’m not sure he has much left to prove here."

Matilda’s lips curved faintly. "Don’t jump the gun, Murphy. Zac may be good, but that doesn’t mean everyone else is weaker."

Her eyes drifted toward several students waiting below. "I think you’re in for a few surprises."

The tournament continued at a brisk pace, and before long, Marty’s turn came.

His opponent wielded a short staff and repeatedly tried to slip attacks around the large shield Marty kept planted in front of him.

Marty coated both himself and his shield in mana, bracing behind it like a stubborn wall that had simply decided moving was no longer part of the plan.

His coating was rough and uneven in several places, and the mana reinforcing his shield wasn’t particularly refined either.

Strike after strike slammed into the shield, and Marty endured every one of them without giving up an inch.

Rather than forcing an opening, he simply waited.

Eventually, his opponent’s movements slowed. His breathing grew heavier, and the mana around his weapon began to flicker.

That was all Marty needed. He surged forward with his shield raised and crashed straight into him, driving the exhausted student backward and over the boundary.

"Winner, Marty Williams!"

Marty stared at the referee for a moment before letting out a long breath. "It seems I live another day."

When he returned to the others, Shobin gave him a small nod. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Marty pressed a hand against his chest. "I was actually very nervous. But now? I feel like I can do this."

His eyes immediately narrowed at the others.

"And before any of you say anything, don’t. Let me bathe in this optimism for at least a few minutes."

Daniel’s match came soon afterward, and his victory was far less dramatic.

His spear control was clean, direct, and efficient. Mana flowed along the weapon without any unnecessary excess, and a single well-timed thrust sent his opponent stumbling across the boundary.

Considering Daniel came from a prestigious family and had trained in spearmanship for years, no one found the result particularly surprising.

Adrian’s match, however, somehow managed to be irritating before it had even begun.

He stepped onto the stage as though arriving at a royal ceremony, regarded his opponent with visible pity, and released a sorrowful sigh.

"Do not be ashamed, commoner. Falling before brilliance is no humiliation. Think of it as part of your educa..."

His opponent attacked before he could finish.

Adrian slipped past the strike, his expression darkening. "Interrupting a noble person such as myself is a crime."

He drew his dagger. "And now you shall suffer the consequences."

Even without actively using his light affinity, his awakened affinity naturally gave him an edge in speed over most ordinary awakened people.

Mana coated his body and dagger as he darted around his opponent’s next attack, closed the distance, and struck before the other student could properly recover.

The match ended almost immediately afterward.

And somehow, Adrian still found a way to make his victory more irritating. When the referee approached to raise his hand, Adrian smoothly pulled it away. "Don’t touch me. You’ll dirty my clothes."

A vein visibly throbbed on the referee’s forehead. Adrian then leaned closer and murmured something, and the vein became two.

"GET LOST!"

Adrian returned to the group looking perfectly satisfied with himself.

Shobin stared at him. "What did you say?"

"I merely requested a flower-petal path for me to walk upon during my next entrance."

Daniel’s face went blank. "You do realize you’re coming here to fight, not attend your own wedding, right?"

Adrian lifted his chin. "I fail to see the relevance. They should be honored to arrange it."

Just as the conversation was winding down, another announcement rang across the arena.

"Number sixteen against number eighty-one!"

Shobin glanced at his VSB. "That’s my number."

He rose from his seat. Almost immediately, whispers broke out among a few Class B students nearby.

"Hey, isn’t that the quiet one from Class A?"

"Yeah. I still can’t believe someone that weak-looking made it into Class A."

Another student snorted. "Forget Class A. How did he even get into New Dawn Academy?"

"Does he even fight? He looks kind of..." The boy squinted at Shobin. "No, very nerdy."

"I think he’s just a sidekick for some of the stronger students in Class A."

"Maybe he got in through some backdoor."

Every word reached Shobin, but not a flicker crossed his face.

Marty leaned toward him. "Don’t let those idiots get in your head."

"I won’t."

"That’s the spirit." Marty gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "Go on, Nerdy. Show them the terrifying power of intelligence."

A small smile finally broke through Shobin’s composure. He turned and headed toward the stage.

Daniel leaned closer to Marty. "Are you sure that counts as encouragement?"

"Yeah. Why? You got a problem?"

"No."

When Shobin stepped onto the stage, his opponent was already waiting.

’Gareth Miller’. The Class B student towered over him, built like a Goliath, with wrapped fists reinforced by iron knuckles and a confident grin plastered across his face.

Marty stared at the matchup. "No, he’s so done for."

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