“And the same to you,” Damien said, locating the stage with the floating four above it and setting out towards it. Loretta trailed after him.

The stage wasn’t too far away, so it was only a short walk. Damien arrived at a small crowd of around a dozen students. Loretta walked up beside him a few moments later.

“We’re both at the fourth stage?” Damien asked.

“Apparently so.” Loretta nodded, pulling out her paper and showing it to Damien. Her eyes flicked around the group of students surrounding them and she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

Anyone in my group seem strong?

“I can’t risk checking right now,” Henry said. “The dean is too close, and there are a dozen other people that might notice me if I did anything. You’re on your own for this one, Damien.”

Wonderful.

Damien looked around the group. Most of the students were sending eachother wary glances, and they didn’t look much more put together than Loretta did.

His eyes caught on one boy who had a large book strapped to his waist. Unlike the other students, the boy seemed mostly calm. The boy glanced up and made eye contact with Damien for an instant, but he broke away a moment later.

Nobody seems too strong, but I guess with magic it hardly matters.

“You’ll need to learn how to sense magical energy pretty soon,” Henry said. “It’ll help you in situations like these, although it’s possible to conceal your energy. I’m doing it almost constantly, actually. We’d be discovered in minutes if I didn’t.”

Something to look forward to after the tournament.

“Indeed,” Henry said.

The judge standing on the stage above them cleared his throat to gather the students’ attention. He had a middle length white beard and was starting to bald. His features were wrinkled and aged by the sun, but that didn’t conceal the slight twinkle in the man’s eyes.

“The tournament will begin very shortly,” the judge informed them. “There will be 4 qualifying rounds. The winners will progress, and that will continue until there is a single winner from each stage. There are twelve students per stage, so the student who has the most decisive victory in the initial and second rounds will be able to skip the third round of combat. Eight of the stages are dedicated to you first years, and the winners of each stage will enter the quarterfinals. Then things will progress as before until the victor is crowned. There will be five minute breaks between every fight - no more and no less. Does that make sense to everybody?”

Damien and the other students nodded, all too nerve wracked to say anything. The judge chuckled and gave them a toothy grin.

“Don’t worry too much, kids. Try to enjoy yourselves. If you’re meant to do well, then you will. If you aren’t – well, there are other ways to get recources at Blackmist. Just do your best.”

Damien and Henry scoffed at the same time, although Damien did his best to hide his reaction. It was typical – the person who didn’t have anything at stake was more than happy to tell them there was nothing to worry about.

The dull chatter that had built up while the students moved to their stages suddenly faded away.

“Students and faculty of Blackmist,” Dean Whisp said, her voice once again reaching Damien’s ears as if she were standing right beside him, “get ready for this year’s primary ranking battles! I’m sure our students are all anxious to begin, but I had to suffer this in my day, so I’ll make them do the same.”

The crowd let out some annoyed grumbles, but Dean Whisp kept talking.

“So, before the battles begin, I figured I’d give us all a quick rundown of Blackmist and how we came to be one of the greatest mage academies on the continent!”

The complaints from the spectators grew louder.

“Start the matches, grandma!” someone yelled over the din.

“I heard that, Frederick,” Whisp said, turning to glare at where the voice had come from.

Before she could say anything else, a dozen other voices joined the yelling. Whisp’s calm façade cracked and she let out a laugh.

“Oh, fine. I won’t waste any more time. Let the ranking battles begin!”

A cheer rose up from the crowd. The judge cleared his throat to gather the small group of students’ attention. He pulled a small leaflet of papers out from his black and purple jacket and scanned over it.

“The first to combatants will be… Damien and Volon.”

Damien’s blood went cold for a moment, but he shook himself off and swallowed, ignoring the tingles running down his hands and legs. The judge stepped aside, gesturing to the small staircase leading up to the stage.

A large boy wearing studded leather armor headed up first and Damien followed after him. He blocked out the roar of the crowd as the judge gestured for Volon to take his place on the other side of the stage.

Now that he was actually standing on it, Damien realized that the platform was a good bit larger than he’d thought. There was more than enough space to run around and dodge attacks, and most area of effect spells would be unlikely to be able to cover the entire thing.

“My name is Darcy, and I’ll be judging for your group. The fight will go until one of you falls off the ring, surrenders, or is incapable of continuing,” the judge said. “Lethal attacks are not permitted, but everything else is allowed. Don’t worry about injuries – I am very capable with flesh magic, so you’ll walk out of this fight in better shape than you walked into it.”

Damien and Volon nodded, both only half listening. The two boys were focused on taking eachother in, and Darcy’s words had faded into the background.

“Are you both ready?”

Damien and Volon nodded.

“Then… begin!”