The day of the tournament came swiftly. While all of his competition practiced their magic, Chris simply watched from a distance, curious to what his competition could muster. The most impressive feat he witnessed was the Viscount girl, Lily Reinberg, and even though the chant was long, she managed to freeze the entire area around her.

The Earl brat kept shooting his pathetic fireballs, the Earl daughter, Christa Nelvern, seemed quite adept with wind magic, making dents deeper than Jenny before Chris began training her, and finally was the son of the Marquise, Sven Kaldekoff.

Sven was able to use several different magic types, but none as skillfully as those who focused primarily on a single magic type. He was adaptable, but lacked an ace in the hole from what Chris could tell, but he knew to be wary. His first competitor seems to be that little Earl brat that decided it's fun to mock people stronger than you. The most important thing for Chris was to use as little magic as possible while still making an absolute show of it.

The arena was a large stone building towards the back of campus. There were rows and rows of stands and large crowds gathered. The floor was covered in cheap, easily replaceable stone blocks, Chris imagined was for the sake of repairing damage quickly. The gates to the middle were set up for a one on one, whether it be individual or team, and the area around the arena were staffed with school funded magicians who seem to be prepared if any misfired magic approaches the unprepared crowds of onlookers.

When they entered the arena and met in the middle, Herval decided it was a smart idea to start on Chris, “Ohh, you actually showed up. I figured you would’ve ran away, I bet you’re shaking in your boots.” Chris calmly shook his hand as is the practice, and walked to his side of the arena.

The bright blue sky shined down on Chris, as he waited for the signal to go ahead. He watched as a fireball burst in the air. That was the signal.

The instant the shot went off, Chris slowly ran at Herval, giving him time to cast, giving him confidence. Then as the firebolt approached, Chris sidestepped quickly, right before it could connect. The crowd watching didn’t expect a no name to even avoid a single attack apparently as they grew into an uproar from a simple dodge. The attack was so slow though, nowhere near the speed that Haven’s mana-bolt possessed. ‘I’d give it a two out of ten,’ Chris snickered to himself.

Chris ran at half speed now, rapidly decreasing the distance, and he didn’t give Herval a chance to react. Chris swung his arm loosely, connecting it with the barrier, and launching Herval across the ring. Chris wasn’t trying hard, but even then, he was surprised how little resistance he felt on that hit. The look of shock across his face as Chris appeared quickly was only matched by the look of pain as he slid. Herval slowly got to his feet, “You dare mock me, you can’t even use magic, yet you think you can face me?”

Chris laughed, leaning forward, gripping his sides intensely. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. This fourteen year old couldn’t handle him, a ten year old boy, and even though he knows not to get an inflated ego, he couldn’t help but mock this delusional boy, “It seems you don’t get it, I am using magic, but someone at your level doesn’t require much. Let’s see how much longer you last.”

Herval began chanting, and Chris patiently waited. The chanting time took ten seconds, but a large fireball was formed and launched. Chris raised his hand, coated in a thick layer of mana, and simply blocked the attack. The fireball couldn’t penetrate Chris' barrier.

Chris then slowly approached, “See, magic! It’s just that, you really aren’t worth the energy.” Chris decided to play up the show just a little, he didn’t want to be remembered as a non-verbal caster, as that would cause annoyances if he was questioned about it. He wanted them to think of him as a physical beast. He dashed as fast as he could, vanished himself, and reappeared right as he slammed his fist into his stomach, shattering the protective barrier on that little Herval brat. His body went skittering across the stone floor, flipping over itself. He was knocked out cold, and the match went to Chris.

On his way out he noticed glares from the crowd, a priest in garbs next to a man with a scar on his eye. They were watching intently as he walked away. Chris decided that he didn’t want to stick around, and went to go get some food before his next match.

As he sat in the cafeteria, he was approached by none other than the headmaster. “It seems you really can break my protection, and with your bare hands no less. I guess it wasn’t fair of me to judge you.” Chris nodded in disagreement, “I apologise for acting conceited, but the lord I just faced ridiculed my friends and so I wanted to show off a little.”

The headmaster sat down across from Chris, pursing her lips, “I saw you stand around a lot, you were really testing him weren’t you, you could’ve beat him right as the match began.” Chris gulped down the bite he was chewing, “If I wanted to I could have finished the match in the first five seconds, but that looks cheap. I wanted to show everyone that he was nothing to me.”

The headmaster laughed a little, “So how will you go against the others? Bum rushing them and punching them really hard seems a bit dull if that’s how all your matches go, don’t you think?” Chris finished another bite, “So you also want a show out of this don’t you? Don’t worry, I have something in mind.”