Three days later, Damien still knew absolutely nothing about the ranking battles other than that they would be happening today. He and Sylph awoke at the same time as a slip of brown paper drifted down through the air.

Sylph was out of bed first before Damien was even fully upright. She plucked the note out of the air and scanned over it before letting out a frustrated huff.

“It just says we need to show up at the portal at the base of the mountain,” Sylph said, pursing her lips. “Still no actual information about the tournament.”

Damien joined her in sighing, pulling his cloak on. He’d long since gotten used to getting woken up suddenly, so he wasn’t particularly tired. His nerves felt frayed and his stomach was jittery.

“Calm down,” Henry said. “It’s not like this is life and death. Your nervousness will only make this harder.”

Easy for you to say. You aren’t the one that’s fighting.

“Bah. Your emotions are making it crowded inside your head. Get control of them.”

Damien rolled his eyes. He and Sylph stepped out of the room, which still didn’t have a door. Mark and the Gray siblings emerged at the same time.

Mark’s armor had grown more wild. Extra patches of furry hide had been stitched into it, making him look like an animal himself. Nolan and Reena both wore light flexible armor made of a shimmering green metal.

“Are you ready for the tournament?” Nolan asked as the five of them headed down the mountain path.

“I will perform according to my abilities,” Mark said, licking his lips. “I don’t have much care either way if I win or not.”

“That must be nice,” Reena said, jealousy evident in her tone. “Our father is watching this tournament, so Nolan and I have to compete.”

“Don’t worry,” Sylph said. “There are likely to be a lot of very strong competitors. It’s unlikely that either of you will make first place, so you just have to focus on performing well.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Reena grumbled.

Damien had to agree with the blond girl. Sylph was horrible at inspirational speeches. They arrived at the portal a few minutes later. Delph was already leaning against the arch, tapping his foot on the ground.

“Good,” Delph said. “Punctuality is important, and you’re all on time. Are you ready? I would be very disappointed if you underperform.”

The professor’s voice had a dangerous undertone that sent chills down Damien’s back.

“We still don’t know anything about the tournament,” Damien said, crossing his arms. “How are we supposed to know if we’re ready?”

“Very rarely will you know the exact conditions of what you face,” Delph replied, not letting an opportunity to lecture them go to waste. “You’ve got a general idea, and that’s usually what we’ve got to work with.”

He gestured for them to follow him and stepped through the portal. They appeared in the Central Courtyard, which already had several other groups of students and what were likely their instructors funneling through a large portal at the left side of the obsidian tiled area.

Delph didn’t wait to see if they’d gotten sick from the teleportation. He headed straight for the portal and they all rushed to keep up with him. Damien once again found himself thankful that all the teleporting he’d done recently had helped build up a resistance to the unsettling feeling.

They waited in a line for a few moments before reaching the front and entering the swirling darkness.

Damien’s feet hit sand. They were standing in another arena, but this one was much bigger than the Colosseum that Delph had been training them in. The stands were chock full of spectators, and the dull roar of chatter filled the arena like a swarm of furious flies.

There were a dozen large, raised circular platforms scattered throughout the arena. A single person stood atop each one.

Before Damien could get a better look, Delph herded the five students towards an open spot in the sand and away from the portal.

“Can you at least tell us anything about the tournament now?” Nolan asked.

“The rules will be explained soon,” Delph replied. “Besides, I think you should be able to get the general idea by looking around.”

“There are going to be multiple matches at once, with the victors moving forward,” Sylph said. “How many students are in the tournament?”

“No clue,” Delph replied with a shrug. “I don’t care. Just win your fights.”

Luckily for Damien’s nerves, it didn’t take much longer for the tournament to begin. Dean Whisp flew over the arena and snapped her fingers. The sound echoed through the sky like an explosion. Conversations died as everyone turned to look up at the woman.

“Welcome to the ranking battles,” Dean Whisp called, her voice easily understandable despite her distance. “We will be starting shortly. Professors, please distribute the arena numbers to your students. Judges, prepare to begin the tournament.”

Delph reached into his cloak and pulled out a sheaf of brown papers, handing one of the numbers to all of them. The paper had Damien’s name and the number four on it.

“Students, once you get your number, please head to the appropriate ring. The rules will be explained shortly,” Dean Whisp called. Before anyone could ask how to find the appropriate arena, glowing numbers the size of a small building blinked to life above each of the platforms.

Damien glanced at Sylph, who showed him her paper, which had ‘one’ written on it.

“Good luck,” Damien told Sylph.

“And to you as well,” Sylph replied as the group of students scattered towards their respective stages. “Don’t get knocked out before the finals.”