Doevm opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar ceiling above him. The "sun's" rays leaked through the window and on his face. He groaned as he felt around his aching head. He sat up, then immediately fell back down, his head bouncing off the hard carpet. He cursed, remembering that his strength was sapped. He sat up again, this time using the wall to support himself. His breathing was ragged, as if he has just run all the way from Petal Town to Draken Capital. He brought his hands near his face, noticing he couldn't hold them still, no matter how calm he was.

It was like there was a layer of fog around his head, blocking his thoughts and some of his senses, yet amplifying pain. 'Test limbs to make sure they're ok,' Doevm thought out orders for his uncooperative limbs. His arms and legs moved. 'So I can still move. I feel weak, drained, and unfocused. Why?' He racked is brain, which amplified the pain in his head. He pulled his legs in and stood himself up, still leaning against the wall. The world spun a little. Doevm's stomach tossed and turned. After a minute or two, everything returned to normal. He slowly eased his weight off the wall. Enough of his strength returned, allowing him to stand on his own. When he bent down to pick up his things, his feet felt light, like he could fall at any second. He felt along his head. When he retracted his fingers, they didn't have an ounce of blood on them.

'The room appears to be fine, even if it is run down. I thought my weariness was a result of staying up late, yet my extended amount of sleep hasn't brought my energy back. This was an issue that was from a long time back, which appeared just after the incident with that creature. Could it have passed something to me, an illness perhaps? No, I've never heard of magicians losing magic because of a stupid cold.'

'Poison is unlikely,' Doevm had to sit himself on the bed before he fell down again. While his strength was returning, it was slow. 'I haven't been eating anything strange, just Owen's food. I don't have any needle marks from the poison, although my knowledge in that field is little. External attack is possible. My soul is fine, which means it wasn't a soul-based attack. What about my magic?'

He unsealed his magic and held a hand over his legs, trying to form a simple healing spell to restore his strength. A few seconds passed and a bead of sweat rolled down his chin. 'Come on.' He could feel his magic. If it was an ocean, his way to pull up the water was gone. His teeth raked against one another. A vein formed on his forehead and his chest tightened. 'I can't use it. I can't heal myself.'

He pulled on his soul magic, finding that he could at least use that. He stood up once again and straightened his clothes. The colors of everything were faded, washed out. His blue shirt was nearly a shade of grey. He shambled into the hallway, where he heard voices.

'Let's put that aside for now. Just keep moving. I've already worked so hard to get here. I can't waste this effort. If worse comes to worst, I'll only die.' His paced increased the further down the hallway he got. The fog in his vision and mind somewhat lessened, yet it remained, taunting him. When he emerged from the hallway, he found that the waiting area was full of people dressed in rags. These people were the rest of the commoners.

Despite how they dressed, however, they did not sit like a bunch of commoners. They were upright, their hands folded against one another, listening to the clerk explaining the rules of today's tournament. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought they were back at the front lines. He found Frey near the back, who smiled when he got closer.

"Where were you?" Frey whispered, trying not to move his mouth too much out of fear of being noticed.

"Nevermind that," Doevm normalized his breathing and took one of the last, barely standing chairs. "What did I miss?"

"Just the rules of the tournament. Killing is allowed but not encouraged. There will be a referee who will judge if cheating was involved and can stop the match if he deems it necessary. The witnesses will be the country's three generals who also happen to be principles of the academy. You know, just another day."

"Smart-ass," Doevm shot. "How many rounds? Is betting allowed?" Frey just shrugged and gestured over to the clerk.

"As you notice," The clerk yelled over everyone, his words echoing off the walls. "You guys were put up in terrible conditions. This was on purpose. The nobles don't want commoners taking their spots, and this will not be the last time you guys are discriminated against. While the academy is not under their control, it is influenced by them. This entire academy was only possible because they pay taxes to the king and manage their land correctly."

"This means you will all have to work harder than them and suffer worse than them. There is a bright side to this." The clerk smiled, his yellow teeth matching the walls. "Since there are always significantly less commoners, you guys have less rounds to go through. Although, considering what you all did to get here, you all certainly worked harder than them as it is already. Nobles can just show up and be admitted if there is room. That's why there are a lot more rounds for the noble tournament."

One of the commoners raised their hand: "What is the entrance exam? I didn't take anything like that."

The clerk sighed: "That's a question that is asked every year. Your "entrance exams" were whatever you did to get those tablets from the generals. You could have fought in the recent war, made a sizable donation to one of them (if you're loaded), or benefited the kingdom in a significant way, and you'll have gotten a tablet."

"Now, there will be only one round for you guys. There will be no placing. This is just for narrowing down who will be admitted. If you lose, you will have to try again next year. Everything is allowed, but the referee can intervene if he deems it unnecessary. One year some kid pulled out an exploding potion that had the ability to kill everyone in the Colosseum. He was immediately beheaded by the referee. Don't do anything stupid."

Another commoner raised their hand. "What about the noble tournament? When will that take place and will they have as many rounds as we will have?"

"Another frequent question," The clerk looked like he was ready to slap the kid. His tone grew more hostile by the word. "Since every noble from around the kingdom comes here, there will be a lot more rounds for them. Their tournament will take place tomorrow. I encourage you guys to watch or bet. I have a system here for you guys to bet." He took out a sheet of paper. "As it happens, I run a stand, using power stones as a currency. Any takers?" He put on a weary smile and looked around at the unenthusiastic crowd. "I'm just kidding. You're all poor anyway." He rolled the paper up. "But seriously, if you want more money, come to me. If that is all we will now go eat breakfast."

Another commoner raised their hand, but the look the clerk gave him made the poor guy lower it. The clerk led out of the back door to a bunch of shabby wooden tables. Breakfast was gruel. Frey and Doevm glanced at it, then to the poor people who couldn't afford regular food. They went to the back table, hoping no one would notice them bring out Owen's food from their spatial rings.

While no one noticed them take the food out, that didn't stop the smell of bacon from drifting over, attracting envious glares. Doevm shrugged. With each bite of food, more of his strength returned to him, albeit slowly. 'What happened yesterday?' he thought. He looked at Frey, debating in his head if he should ask or not. 'No, he doesn't need to know about this.' He glanced at his soon-to-be competitors. 'They're all strong, I can feel it. Right now, I think I'm as weak as someone in the red life essence stage. If I don't figure out what's happening to me soon, I'll be knocked out of the tournament or worse, I might be killed.'

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