Omen of a Bluebell

“Groups one and twelve, step forward!”

The order echoes across the arena, carried by some trick of mana, and both groups seem to hesitate. Only for a moment though. Both begin to peel away from the semicircle of gathered students, approaching the faculty.

From where we stand, it’s hard to hear everything that’s being said. A few names drift across the distance, though, as faculty pair students off and direct them toward specific platforms.

Each pair marches off, and they pass through the barrier domes as if they aren’t there at all.

Once inside, two more instructors step forward on each platform, seemingly materializing from the environment itself.

Oh… I hadn’t noticed them before.

Each time I see them appear to greet the students, I find that they were tucked away within the terrain, standing still enough to blend into the stone, foliage, or shadows.

“So they really do have eyes on everything,” Cari murmurs beside me.

Bella nods. “Two proctors minimum per match, as they said. Likely more observing remotely.”

The paired off students speak with the proctors for a while, but I can’t make anything out. Then they split the pairs up before disappearing into the environment once more.

Then the first duels begin.

On the simpler platforms—the open platforms of stone—they start right away. Mana flares. Runes pulse in the air or around the contestants’ feet. Weapons are pulled, and some even charge each other right away.

But there is no sound. No waves of pressure or vibrations in the air from the clashes of magic and steel.

Still, the crowd in the stands reacts immediately.

Cheers rise from the stands as the first exchanges land. In one platform, steel clashes with steel. In another, fire splashes uselessly across a barrier and gutters out.

In another, more flashy display, a wind spell slams one student back several steps, only for her to recover with a flash of light that unleashes a burst of retaliatory force. It sends her opponent skidding across the floor, and the proctors appear the moment it lands, bringing an end to the match.

“That one’s solid,” Bella says quietly, nodding toward a platform on the far left.

I squint, trying to follow her gaze. It’s hard to see the details from here, but I can make out the rhythm of the fight. It’s slow. Not flashy or impressive in the ways I’d expect from such a place, but it’s controlled.

The woman in question wields a spear of some kind, while her opponent has a long staff. Despite their reach being almost the same, her opponent never seems to be able to land a hit.

“She’s not overextending or wasting mana,” Bella continues. “She’s good.”

I feel a twinge of annoyance at that, but just as quickly dismiss the feeling.

Cari leans forward as well, hands clasped behind her back and grinning. “She’s gonna win.”

“Probably,” Bella agrees. “But that’s not what they’re scoring.”

Right… it’s about control more than winning. I… might be screwed.

I swallow and look away, scanning the arena instead.

That’s when I notice small flickering displays around the stands.

Each and every seat has a small floating display hovering just in front of it. Translucent panes of light, each showing a different angle of the arena.

Some students flick through them with quick gestures, swapping between platforms, zooming in, replaying moments I know the exam participants don’t see. Watching everything that we can’t.

I frown at that.

“Why can’t we use those?” I mutter.

Cari follows my gaze. “Huh. Yeah, that’s kind of rude.”

“It prevents preparation,” Bella says immediately. “Stops us from studying a potential opponent’s techniques beforehand, that kind of thing.”

I grimace. “Right. They want us as blind as possible.”

“That sounds… lovely,” Cari huffs.

Bella chuckles, and my ears twitch. “I’m sure it’s a non-issue towards the end, as there will be far fewer combatants. Attention and preparation are likely weighted more heavily then.”

I sigh and return my gaze to the ongoing fights.

Another duel ends. One student yields, dropping to a knee with her hand raised. The runes flash, and a barrier appears between her and her opponent instantly as the proctors step forward.

She’s escorted off the platform, breathing hard but uninjured.

Another fight ends less cleanly.

A dwarf man gets clipped by a lightning spell mid-cast, and he collapses into a twitching heap. The runes around the platform flare brightly, and a pair of healers rush the platform as the proctors halt the fight.

A few in the crowd let out low “Ooh’s” in commiseration, apparently having been watching that particular fight. One woman in Group Five scoffs.

“Maybe if you had some Constitution, you wouldn’t be in that position!” she shouts.

A few people around her laugh.

My lip curls before I can stop it, a low growl rumbling up from my chest.

Cari nudges my side with her elbow, subtle but firm.

“Hey,” she murmurs. “Not worth it.”

At the same time, I catch Bella watching me from the corner of my eye. Not alarmed or worried, but curious.

I force the sound down, breathing it out through my nose.

“Sorry,” I say after a moment. “I just… don’t like seeing people kicked while they’re down.”

Cari nudges my shoulder, giving me a soft look. Bella studies me for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then her lips curve into a nearly imperceptible smile.

“That’s a very dangerous habit to have,” she says, her voice teasing.

I huff a laugh. “Believe me, I would know.”

Her gaze lingers a moment longer after that. Not concerned like Cari, but… approving. I lean into my Charisma for a moment, giving her a cheeky wink.

The rosy tint that finds its way to her cheeks is worth the embarrassment I felt at doing that.

In no time at all, the matches are over, and the next groups are called forward.

“Groups two and eleven!”

More fights. More surrenders. More close calls.

Cari keeps me distracted from the occasional underhanded comment, but I still find myself praying that she’s my opponent at some point today.

On and on it goes, until finally…

“Groups four and nine!”

We each step forward, and Cari disappears into the flow almost immediately, bouncing on her heels as she goes. Bella follows more calmly, expression composed, shoulders perfectly squared.

Is it her shoulders or the uniform?

…Probably both.

Names are called, and Cari and Bella are drawn away to their own matches. Eventually, I hear my own.

“Emilia Ken and Sarysha Eka Intala!” one of the faculty shout, waving a hand in the air to get our attention.

When I see my opponent, I’m shocked to find I’m paired up against another girl that also holds no weapons.

Elf Fighter

Level 65

She stands nearly a head taller than me, arms folded over her chest, with dark green hair woven into neat, intricate braids. They look ornamental at first glance, but they’re tight enough to keep every strand out of her face.

Her build is narrow, all long lines and light angles. Waifish might fit if she were human, but as an elf, there’s a quiet strength in that leanness.

And she’s undeniably pretty, the braids framing her face and suiting her very well.

Gah! Not now, Emi.

I wasn’t looking at her like that just because of my estrus…

Er… well, not entirely, at least…

I force myself to refocus. I’m going to have to fight her, pretty or not.

As if to prove the point, I realize then that she’s been assessing me this whole time as well. Her eyes wander across my frame, trying to weigh the danger I pose.

I give her my best cocky smirk when her gaze matches mine. The twitch of her lips as she restrains a frown makes my smirk grow even more.

Then we’re off, heading to platform sixteen—our assigned arena.

Finding it isn’t too difficult, and it’s one of the ones without an actual terrain inside. Just flat stone and open ground.

As with every fight I’ve seen so far, two instructors approach us once we step inside. An older woman and a younger man, though age can be deceiving sometimes due to System shenanigans.

Human Mage

Level ??

Human Fighter

Level ??

Both watch us with sharp, assessing eyes, then the woman speaks, addressing me directly.

“Emilia, you’re with me. Please follow.”

She waves me forward and turns to walk to the opposite side of the platform, away from the other proctor and my opponent. Once there, she turns to face me again.

“We are aware of your current limitations, and they will be taken into account for your evaluation,” she says, her tone neutral. Not unkind, but not soft either.

I nod.

“Before the match begins, there is a series of questions you must answer so we can establish victory or defeat conditions. First, can you be rendered unconscious by conventional means?”

The question gives me pause, and I take a moment to really think about it.

I’ve never been knocked out since gaining access to the System. Not by someone else, anyways. I’ve passed out from exhaustion before—

Wait, no. That was because I died...a little bit.

...Right.

I hesitantly shake my head.

“I don’t think so, but I’ve never actually tested it.”

She nods, marking something on a small enchanted metal tablet she pulled from… somewhere.

Does everyone in Theola have storage devices?

“Is voluntary surrender mechanically or psychologically possible for you?” she asks, eyes never leaving the small tablet.

I stiffen at the question, my earlier concerns about Fae Ferocity making themselves known at full force once more.

She notices.

She looks up at me, a frown crossing her face. “This is important information, Miss Emilia. In order to keep both you and your opponent safe, we must know when we are to step in if things go awry.”

Her voice is sterner now, but still not harsh.

I duck my head again, knowing she’s right. “Sorry.”

She waves my apology off. “I understand your hesitation. Now please, answer the question.”

I nod slowly. “Yes and no. It depends on how my Skill activates. It can be something similar to a berserk state.”

She nods, marking something on the tablet again.

“Can you voluntarily limit your output under stress?”

Once more, I hesitate. Then I decide to just not risk it.

Gods forbid I take a bite out of my opponent just because she annoys me too much and triggers Fae Ferocity.

“No, also depending on how that same Skill activates.”

She nods. Another mark is made, and she continues.

“Do you possess passive or active healing, regeneration, or damage negation that exceeds baseline Tier expectations?”

“Yes,” I say instantly.

There’s no doubt that my regeneration is absurd for my Tier, and that’s not even considering Arcane Regulation.

“Please estimate minimum time to functional—not full, mind you—recovery from severe trauma,” she orders, still looking at the tablet.

At this point, I'm starting to realize that I may actually have to hold back even more. With the amount of questions they're asking, and how they will be entirely dedicated to spectating and stepping in if necessary, I'll have to be careful about exactly how many Skills I use.

Everyone else will only have four activatable Skills from their Combat Class.

I have eight.

I pretend to peek at my Status to answer her question, but take this opportunity to work through my options.

Arcane Strike and Bloodmist Fist can easily be considered the same Skill, given their effects. For that matter—Blood Burst, Scarlet Barrier, and Hemokinesis could too, if I say it's all part of Hemokinesis.

That's two.

That only leaves All For One, Arcane Regulation, and Mana Surge.

...There's no way any of them could be mistaken for the other.

Which means I have to pick two, and avoid the third at all costs.

That makes the decision easy, especially since Mana Surge has proven to be rather disruptive already, given the inn incident.

Heh... inncident.

When the instructor's brow twitches with impatience, I wipe my smirk away and actually check my Status.

Status

Name: Emilia Ken

Race: Faefox

Age: 20

Level: 63

Health: 34,620

Health Regen: 12,617 per minute

Mana: 471,891

Stored: 943,782

Mana Regen: 4m (1.46m) per minute (64% restrained)

With the help of the System, the math regarding my own being comes to mind almost instantly.

Even with the restriction on my mana regen, if I shift it all into my health regen, I can recover 70% of my health pool in a single second. Admittedly it still takes longer to regrow limbs and the like, but…

Well, she did say ‘minimum’.

“Half a second at most if the damage isn’t from losing a limb.”

This time, the proctor is the one who stiffens in place. She looks up at me, clearly skeptical.

I shrug.

“Miss Emilia, I must insist that you not attempt to play around. This information could mean life or death for you,” she says, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not playing around. I can sustain that indefinitely at the cost of my fighting power,” I respond, meeting her gaze.

She watches me for a moment, then nods. “As you say, then. Are any of your standard combat actions inherently lethal if unrestrained? Such as soul attacks, self propagating damage of any kind, or abilities that you cannot scale down.”

I think it over, but only Blood Burst comes to mind. Even then, it’s only through sheer damage due to how much mana I can invest into it. Still, it doesn’t really fall into the line of questioning she’s after, because I can just not invest that much mana into it.

“No, ma’am.”

Another mark.

“Final question. Do you possess any failure conditions not covered by unconsciousness, surrender, or injury?”

After a thought, only two things really come to mind. But I highly doubt they’d let someone actually kill me just to end the match, so…

“Exhaustion.”

She sighs. “Of course. You are going to be a difficult opponent I’m afraid, no matter who you face.”

She pauses when she sees my tail wagging behind me.

“Don’t get a big head about it, girl. This is a test of skill, not durability. Now then, let me rejoin my partner and determine the best course of action. You stay here and wait for our signal to begin.”

I nod, and she steps away to join the other proctor who is already waiting near the center of the arena.

They talk for a few moments, and I catch the male proctor sparing me a few glances every so often, but otherwise remaining just as professional as the woman was with me. Eventually, they both nod, coming to a decision.

The older woman's voice rings out, amplified by magic. “Victory conditions have been established.”

She turns slightly, gesturing toward me first.

“For Emilia, standard conditions apply. You must force Sarysha to surrender or incapacitate her.”

The proctor continues, gesturing to my opponent.

“For Sarysha, you must either land three critical strikes, avoiding the head, or successfully restrain Emilia continuously for ten seconds.”

Sarysha’s posture stiffens, her gaze snapping to me. She glares across the arena, her frown clear as day.

I shrug, and her gaze narrows into something more calculating.

The proctor interrupts our staring match.

“Know that we may end the match at any time. If you resist us in that case, we will incapacitate you ourselves. Is that understood?”

There’s no bravado in her voice. Just cold certainty.

It sends a shiver into my tail. We both nod our understanding, and the proctors step to the far side of the platform.

The runes around us flare brightly for a moment after she presses the tablet to a section carved seemingly just for that purpose, then she turns back to face us, speaking one final time.

“When the runes flash once more, you may begin,” the male proctor says.

I lower my stance, readying myself for what comes next.

Sarysha does the same, her arms finally unfolding and dropping into a more guarded position before her. Surprisingly, her hands are opened and facing outwards, towards me, with her fingers curled like claws.

I see it the moment mana coats her fingers, giving each a mana-crafted claw the length of a dagger.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

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