One hour remaining until their group battle, and Megan was a nervous mess. She kept watching the Attosian team out of the corner of her eyes, finding herself focusing on them completely. More than once, that tall muscular man with long black hair turned to see her looking and returned the stare with a dead-pan expression. After that, Megan would force herself to look anywhere else, but found her gaze wandering back after a minute or two.

The man’s match against Kanora did not help assuage her concerns. He and Kanora fought for over ten minutes, which consisted of the Nihon-Jan student hammering away at the Attosian’s defenses. She didn’t bother with a projection this time, but dashed right over to her opponent and started striking. A barrier blocked each attack, but the casual force behind each blow forced him to start backstepping. He was clearly giving ground, but only in tiny increments, and he wasn’t flagging in his defense.

After about eight minutes of this exchange, Kanora came to an abrupt halt, her head tilted to the side. She appeared to ask her opponent something, and the Attosian’s reaction was unexpected. His face drained of all color, and he looked afraid and angry. He had lashed out then, throwing himself into a reckless yet powerful attack. Kanora was forced to give ground now, striking just as often as she was hit, but she didn’t have the edge in raw power. Finally, after landing a glancing blow on his shoulder, she was hit by a metal gauntlet-covered backhand that knocked her unconscious.

The Attosian student moved as if to continue the fight despite his opponent falling unconscious, but the referee leaped out to intervene. His barrier of golden energy immediately surrounded Kanora, and his hands were extended towards the victor crackling with energy, a warning look in his eyes.

“Stand down, Bente,” he growled. “Or I will disqualify you.”

Bente appeared to struggle with himself for a moment, before taking a shaky step back and nodding curtly. “Of course. My apologies. I got carried away.”

The referee looked like he didn’t buy a bit of that explanation but merely nodded, gesturing for Bente to leave the arena. Megan, meanwhile, was looking at the state his opponent had been left in. A Paragon Apprentice, trained by one of the most legendary masters known to the world, and much more experienced than she, had been so easily defeated? She didn’t want to think what that meant for her own chances in their upcoming fight, but the thoughts came anyway.

Megan had shared Samuel’s news, her suspicions, and the plan she’d concocted with the others the second she got a chance. They were shocked at the unexpected nature of it all, but as Samuel had said, the Exchange had been attacked many times in the past, so their surprise was minimal. It had been some time since the attackers had been an actual organized military, let alone a nation, but that was beside the point. Every few years, the people who organized the event had to fight off invaders at a moment’s notice.

“So we have to put them out of commission in our next match,” Michael had summarized at once, guessing Megan’s intent. “The group combat is the best way to do that.”

Megan had nodded, glad to see they were on the same page. “It won’t be easy, but I think we could do it.”

Rachel, Jordan, and Michael had agreed to the plan at once and had even devised a few quick ideas for how to best achieve it. But that had been at the moment, and now, hours later, Megan was a nervous wreck, filled with doubt. Bente had been battered pretty badly during his match with Kanora, but a mere half-hour later, he seemed to be once again in top condition, pacing around the Exchange grounds without a single visible concern.

She forced herself to take several deep breaths, focusing on the feeling of her lungs expanding and collapsing. It was an old trick to deal with panic attacks she’d learned, one that had proven most effective as a child. It had only just occurred to her that it was indeed panic that she was experiencing and, in her fear, she’d actually restricted her own breathing. It was easy to overlook such basic needs when you were on edge. A little more relaxed now, she opened her eyes and stared down into the pit.

The word pit was putting it lightly. With his massive mana reserves and devious mind, Samuel had dug a massive hole in the ground, easily reaching a hundred feet across in width, just over half a kilometer long, and what seemed like a hundred feet deep. How he had managed to construct such a monumental obstacle course was a mystery to anyone. Along with the natural obstructions that one would expect in such a challenge, there was also the sign of lingering mana, indicating traps laid about for any student who chose a landing spot unwisely.

Nearly every Exchange for the past decade had featured an obstacle course, as a way to test the reflexes and quick-thinking of the mages who came to be tested. The traps, obstacles, and shape of the course always served this purpose, and it showed the skill and rapid thoughts of everyone who attempted it. Megan had seen Michael practicing many times over the past month, using mana to reinforce his body and jumping over, under, and around obstacles of his own or others’ making, trying to be as fast and nimble as he could. His diligence paid off, as he was one of the highest scorers in the previous year’s Final Exam, which had involved a similar test.

Michael was lined up now at the start, along with nine other people. The obstacle course technically had no maximum member count, and each participant could take part if they’d wanted to. But only those who prided themselves on speed and reflexes were lined up there now. Three from Tyrman, two from Attos (though thankfully not Bente), five from Nihon-Ja, and two from Zaban. Each person had taken off their relatively bulky outer robes, stripping down to loose-fitting tunics and stretching purposefully, waiting for the call to start.

Megan couldn’t help but admire Michael’s poise as she watched him prepare. He was hopping back and forth his feet as light as possible, slowly stretching his arms. The obstacle course banned flying and levitation, so his body needed to be limber to make it across safely. In the case that a participant fell, hover charms would be cast on them by one of the referees standing by. The students were also allowed to use a trip, shove, and anchor spells as they pleased, in an attempt to stall their opponents. The only spell they could cast on themselves was to reinforce their bodies with mana.

Michael crouched low now, his body like a coiled spring, incredibly low to the ground as he turned to stare at the referee who would give the starting signal. He was one of the last to do so, followed only by one of the Zaban students. All noise in the arena quieted down as every pair of eyes switched to a line of ten large, man-sized mirrors. These, Megan knew, were powered by Divination magic, and would show a constant image of the competitors so the audience knew what was coming. These preparations finished, all that waited now as for the referee to give the signal.

Without warning, the man let out a piercing whistle, and the racers were off. Most dropped down to the first available platform, their eyes already seeking out the next landing point, while keeping a close eye on their neighbors for attempted trickery. Some, Michael included, chose instead to launch themselves as far out as they could, landing on some of the higher beams of packed earth, gaining the advantage of a higher altitude. One of the Tyrman students who had done so landed on a faulty obstacle, which promptly crumbled under his foot and sent him tumbling down. He caught himself on a lower beam, but by then he was already behind.

Megan kept her eyes glued on the mirror that featured her friend, heart in her throat, as Michael bounced from pillar to pillar, looking for all-purpose as if he were flying. He moved carefully, not wasting any of his energy, and was almost a quarter of a way down the course before he encountered his first real spot of trouble. Jumping across a large gap that spanned almost a dozen feet, he was hit by a shove spell from below that halted his progress, causing him to fall short. He landed on a lower beam and immediately anchored himself against the next few shoves as people passed him.

Knowing Michael as she did, she was sure that was enough to anger him. But his expression remained calm and collected as he set off again, now in the very back of the pack. He hopped a few more barriers, putting a little more effort into his lunges until he finally caught up to one of those students who had tried to shove him. A well-placed trip spell, followed by a powerful shove as the student tried to land on another pillar, and he sank below the accepted level. Immediately, one of the referees caught him and began to gently lift him up. If he were uninjured, he would be allowed to continue.

Michael rushed forward, catching two more opponents with well-timed spells and causing them to fall. He then entered a brief and furious duel of shoves with another student, but after the flurry, both were unaffected, and so they gave up, and Michael was allowed to pass. He was gaining ground rapidly, and it seemed only a matter of time before he regained his old lead.

Four students had made it to the end of the course by the time Michael reached it and had already doubled back, heading for the starting line that would now be the end. One of them, the one who had originally shoved Michael, flashed him a wide, slightly cocky smile as they passed each other. Then Michael hit the wall, gathered his mana about him, and pushed off. He flew for nearly two dozen feet with that push alone, which allowed him to zip right past another opponent. He had clawed his way back to fifth place.

He retook fourth place by surprising the girl in front of him, tripping her twice in rapid succession. Her stumble allowed him to flash past, and she was kept too busy by the person behind Michael to retaliate. The main danger of stopping in the obstacle course was that you would be peppered with spells by those who came next. It was the same situation that Michael had weathered patiently, and he now used it to his benefit, making sure that his worst competitors couldn’t recover in time to catch him again.

Third and second place got into a heated shoving duel, which slowed them down just enough to let Michael slip between them. He cast two shoving spells at once, which normally would be ill-advised due to the loss of power, but as they were already off-balance, they quickly toppled. Now Michael had his sight set on the figure just a dozen feet away, and the old fire was burning in his eyes that could only mean one thing. He was hunting his prey.

The student in the lead realized that something was wrong when Michael’s shove spell missed him by mere centimeters. He’d lucked out by sliding along one beam instead of running, and the spell revealed Michael, less than a dozen feet away, already aiming another shove spell. He reacted with the speed of a cat, and the barrage between the two competitors actually broke one of the beams in half, sending it falling into the pits. Three referees were keeping pace with them from above, their eyes trained closely on the two students, ready to interrupt the duel if it turned illegal.

Each student gave as good as they got, switching between shoves and trips with lightning speed. There seemed to be no end to the bangs and shockwaves as they both pushed forward, now nearly neck and neck, over halfway back to the finish line. Several referees were already there, ready to mark who crossed it first. It was obviously going to be a close-run race. Then, a hundred feet from the goal, Michael’s foot slipped on a beam. His opponent let out a victorious laugh, surging ahead by a foot.

Everyone heard the bang that came from Michael’s spell, but, as most had their eyes on the student about to cross the line and win the event, they never knew what had caused the noise. They were only aware of the flash of movement that went across the other student’s mirror. Then they saw Michael himself, and a shout of surprise went through the crowd.

Michael was flying in a straight line, practically bouncing from pillar to pillar without the slightest pause or hesitation. Mana crackled all along his body, letting him push off with more force than ever. When he landed on a pillar, he cast a short-range shove spell, but instead of aiming at the competition, each spell was looping around to slam into his back and propel him forward. This insane tactic pushed him seven feet ahead of his opponent, and it was the distance by which he won, sailing over the finish line with a roar of excitement to match the crowd.