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Third Person POV
The arena was utterly silent.
The chaotic energy of the earlier matches, the shouting of applicants, the explosions of mismatched magic, the bored chatter of the crowd. All of it had evaporated. A heavy, electric anticipation settled over the coliseum. This was the final. The crowd, the applicants, and even the Magic Knight Captains on their high balcony leaned forward. This was more than just the last fight of the day; this was a confrontation between two complete, terrifying enigmas.
On one side stood Julius Novachrono. He was an anomaly. He had moved through the entire bracket without taking a single hit, his expression one of polite, almost detached curiosity. His mana was immense, yet strangely calm and heavy, like the deep ocean. His magic was something no one had been able to identify, a baffling, untouchable grace that saw his opponents finding themselves defeated before they even understood what had happened. His grimoire was just as strange: a massive, thick tome with no cover, its pages seemingly infinite, floating beside him with an ancient power.
On the other side stood Michael Kira. A prince of the realm, son of the Golden Dawn's legendary Captain, and the wielder of an unheard-of "Soul Weapon." He, too, possessed a monstrous amount of mana, but his was the opposite of calm. It was a blazing, radiant power that felt like the sun itself, a presence that demanded attention. And unlike Julius, his victories had been displays of absolute, terrifying dominance.
This was the match everyone was waiting for.
"Hoh... damn," a familiar, gruff voice echoed in Michael's mind. Lucenor, who had been lazily critiquing the other fighters' "pathetic light shows," suddenly sounded genuinely interested."Well, will you look at that. This magic still exists? Brat, you're gonna have fun with this one. Lol. This kid can manipulate time."
Michael's focus, which was already sharp, narrowed to a razor's edge. Time magic?
"Yep," Lucenor continued, a note of almost nostalgic amusement in his voice. "It's a rare one. A real pain in the ass to fight if you don't know what you're doing. It's not about power; it's about concepts. He can probably age your spells until they die, or slow you down until you're a snail. Make sure not to lose, kid. But hey, if you do, I won't even blame you. Bwahahaha!"
Michael mentally rolled his eyes, a familiar spark of defiance igniting in his chest. "You're a real confidence booster, you know that? Just shut up, Lucy."
"IT'S LUCENOR, YOU LITTLE SHIT! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO DRILL IT INTO YOUR THICK SKULL! L-U-C-E-N-O-R! I AM A PRIM--"
Michael mentally muted him, cutting off the rant before it could begin. He didn't have time for it. He looked across the arena at Julius, who was watching him with that same relaxed, curious smile. Time magic. Lucenor wouldn't react like that unless it was the real deal. This wasn't a fight he could win just by being stronger or faster. His overwhelming power, his Vow-enhanced strength... they were useless if his opponent could simply decide when they hit.
He would have to think. He would have to be smarter.
A slow, genuine grin, the one he only ever showed when he was about to face a real, exhilarating challenge, spread across Michael's face. This was going to be fun.
Up in the stands, Acier and Ignara, who knew him better than anyone, both sighed at the same time.
"He's doing it again," Acier murmured, a fond, exasperated smile on her face.
"That damned grin," Ignara finished, her own lips curling to match his. "He hasn't looked that happy since we were kids, back when we could still give him a decent fight. He's been holding back on everyone."
Acier turned to her, her silver-blue eyes serious. "Ignara... your mana sense is better than mine. Is that Julius guy... is he really that strong?"
Ignara's grin faded, replaced by a deep, thoughtful frown. She stared at Julius, her head tilted. "I don't know," she said, her voice serious for once. "It's... weird. His mana is huge, definitely more than yours, maybe even close to Michael's. But it's not wild or powerful like ours. It's not doing anything. It's just... there. It's heavy. It feels old. Trying to sense it is like trying to sense a perfectly still, bottomless lake. You can't see the currents, but you know the depth is terrifying."
The admission sent a small shiver through Acier. Stronger than us?
In the stand, Jack laughed, looking at the arena, "Ke ke ke, I really want to cut them right now."
On the Captain's balcony, the reaction was just as intense. Jackson Blade, the battle-maniac of the Green Mantis, saw Michael's expression and burst out with his signature, cackling laugh. "BAHAHAHA! Would you at that, Seraphiel! The brat's finally excited! He's just like me! He's found a real toy!"
He leaned forward, his scarred face alight with a manic, almost desperate energy. "Seraphiel, I'm begging you. You have to let me have that kid. I don't care about the Silva girl or the Vermillion brat. Give me the boy. Look at that face! He wants a real fight! I can give it to him! We can--"
"Shut up and watch the match, Jackson," Seraphiel said, her voice calm, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the balcony railing. Her eyes were fixed on her son, a proud, intense, and almost feral light within them. "We can discuss recruitment... later."
Jackson just huffed, a sound of pure annoyance, and leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "Fine. But I'm watching."
Ignatius Vermillion just grunted. "The Kira brat has his mother's smile. That means he's about to do something devastating."
Cael Silva said nothing, but his sharp eyes were locked on Michael, his expression one of cold, grudging assessment. The boy had his daughter's heart; now he would see if he had the power to back it up.
Down in the arena, the two finalists faced each other.
Julius, with his gentle, curious smile, was the first to act. With a soft whoosh of displaced air, his massive, coverless grimoire vanished in a shimmer of light. He was dismissing it.
He had done this for every match. It was his signature move, a clear, unspoken statement: You are not a threat. I don't need my grimoire to beat you. The other applicants saw it as the ultimate arrogance.
Michael watched him, his grin widening. He understood. This was a test. A taunt. 'Can you play at my level, without your best toy?'
So Michael answered in kind.
With a thought, his spear, the 'Soul Weapon' that had the entire coliseum whispering, dissolved in his hand. It turned into motes of golden light that faded into nothing.
He was dismissing his grimoire, too.
The crowd gasped. The captains, even Jackson, sat up straighter. This wasn't arrogance. This was a conversation.
Julius's First-Person POV
This exam had been so cool.
My whole life, I've been told I was a prodigy. Mother always said I was the strongest boy in the world, and I believed her. And to be fair, she was mostly right. Things just... came easily to me. I could see things before they happened, and move faster than other kids. It was just how my magic worked. Magic, to me, was a beautiful, complex puzzle, and everyone else seemed to be struggling with the edge pieces while I was already seeing the whole picture.
And then I got my grimoire.
Or, rather, it got me. A giant, heavy book with no cover and endless pages. It had Time Magic in it. My magic. It was a perfect match. I rarely ever had to use it, though. Most fights were just... boring. A simple tap of my own time, and I could dodge anything. A little push, and I could stop a spell in its tracks.
But this exam! I had seen so many new, fascinating types of magic! That girl, Ignara. Her Inferno Flame was all raw, unchained flames. It was beautiful in its chaos. And the other one, Acier. Her Metal Magic was the opposite: precise, elegant, and controlled. It was a perfect, intricate dance. And that Jack kid, with his Slash magic... ooh, I wanted to see his grimoire up close. I had so many questions!
Then I saw him. Michael Kira.
His grimoire wasn't a book at all. It was a spear. How fascinating! I'd never seen anything like it. And the power coming off it... it was old. It felt... heavy. It resonated with my own grimoire, a feeling I had never experienced before. I knew from the moment I saw him that he would be the one I'd face in the final. This was the one. This was the fight I had been waiting for.
So, as the match was called, I did what I always do. I dismissed my grimoire. It was a test, a way to show respect by asking a question: Are you just your power, or are you something more? It was a bit arrogant, I know, but I was just so curious to see how they'd react.
I expected him to be offended. I expected him to charge at me, angry that I wasn't taking him seriously.
But he didn't.
He just grinned. And then, his spear just dissolved. It turned into light and vanished.
My heart actually skipped a beat. He wasn't insulted. He... he understood. He was answering my question.
He was... he was doing the same thing. He was dismissing his grimoire, too.
I was so surprised, I actually spoke out loud. "Why did you do that?"
The boy, Michael Kira, just gave me that same confident grin. "Why did you?" he replied, not really asking a question.
He didn't say anything else. He just cracked his neck, the sound echoing in the silent arena, and walked into the ring, his hands empty.
I just sighed, but this time, it was a sigh of pure excitement. I'd misread him. He wasn't arrogant. He was playing. He was playing the same game I was.
Well, this is going to be wonderful, I thought, a real, genuine smile on my face as I, too, stepped into the ring.
Third Person POV
Seraphiel, standing on the balcony, raised her hand. The entire coliseum held its breath.
Michael and Julius faced each other from twenty yards apart, both of them empty-handed, both of them with relaxed, confident stances.
"Final match!" Seraphiel's voice boomed.
"BEGIN!"
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