We watched as Cerila effortlessly cut down another spear of water like the last dozen or so. Her opponent was a Human from Sandervile, and she was red in the face, fury in her eyes. Before the match, the girl was bragging and seemed borderline insane, yet every attempt to best Cerila was quickly put down. This only added to the mage’s frustration.

“Is there a reason behind this?” Varnir asked me from the side.

“What do you mean?”

Varnir raised an eyebrow at me. “Why are you pretending that this is normal? Cerila should have beaten this girl within the first few seconds of the match.”

“I thought it was evident that she was practicing,” I said with a shrug.

Varnir looked confused as he stared back out at the closest platform. “You mean to tell me she is practicing during a live match? Isn’t she a little too confident in her abilities? That seems like a great way to get embarrassed or worse.”

I nodded my head at his concerns. “Yes, I agree. Under normal circumstances using your opponent to train or practice during a real fight would be suicide. However, Cerila is just that much stronger than this girl. She probably hasn’t gotten much of a chance to fight against a pure mage before, so she is just taking the opportunity as it is offered.”

Varnir's eyes went dark. “This is ridiculous…she hasn’t even moved from her starting spot yet. Do you think she would have been able to do this against Leopold?”

“Absolutely not. Cerila would be able to beat Leopold, but she wouldn’t be able to take him lightly,” I said honestly.

“You can say that with such certainty...how is that possible?” Varnir asked.

I took a deep breath and looked out at the mage girl. She was drenched in sweat now, most likely running low on mana. Reaching the end of her wits, she let out a loud growl as three cylindrical streams of water snaked around in the air above her, growing in size and power with every passing moment. The spell was an Expert level spell called Torrent Blast, if my memory served me correctly.

“If you had to guess, what level of mage do you believe that girl is?” I questioned Varnir.

Varnir scratched his chin and mulled over my question. “She can’t be higher than Expert, that’s for sure. I would say she is Intermediate borderline on Expert.”

“Very good. Yes, she is undoubtedly an Intermediate mage that is about to cast an Expert level spell on low mana. She’ll suffer from mana sickness and pass out after this. But what about her potential? What do you think it is?” I asked.

Varnir looked shocked at my analysis. “Wait, hold on! Is this girl about to kill herself?!”

I waved his concern away. “No, she’ll be fine. Probably…”

One of the torrents of water splashed onto the ground, but the girl let out a scream as she finished the spell core, albeit a failure of a spell. She extended her wand and launched the Torrent Blast straight at Cerila with blinding speed. If that spell were to hit an unarmored person directly, it would go straight through them with ease.

For the first time, Cerila had to move to the side to dodge one of the streams of water. Regardless, Cerila quickly and with minimal movements split the other blast of water down the middle. The two halves fell harmlessly to either side of Cerila, drenching the ground underneath her.

The mage girl went limp and collapsed onto the ground. A team of light mages rushed to her side and immediately began healing her. She was still alive, just suffering from mana sickness.

“So, what do you think her potential is?” I repeated.

Varnir shook his head in disbelievement at the outcome I had predicted. “Expert? I mean, if she can use Expert level magic, she has to have that much potential at least.”

“To my understanding, that would be wrong. Her current potential is that of an Intermediate mage. Maybe as she grows older and continues to practice, she could reach the level of Expert, but that’s only if those conditions are met successfully. She simply went above her limit and is currently paying the price,” I explained.

Varnir stared right at me and slowly nodded his head, almost like he finally understood. “Your Dragon eye…thing. It can see souls, right? Does that mean you can tell how powerful someone is?”

“Yes and no. It’s more like I can see one’s potential. Just for fun, what do you think Cerila’s potential is?”

“Mmmm…” Varnir hummed. “I haven’t seen her use all of her abilities before, but I know she is a powerful mage and good with a sword. Just being good at both of them makes you an elite…I’d say…mmm…maybe a Ruby or Sapphire adventurer?” Varnir guessed.

“Close. If I told you she has the potential to be a War God, would you believe me?”

Varnir let out a long-winded sigh as he watched Cerila descend into the staging area. “At this point, I would be an idiot to not believe in you.” Varnir turned his pink eyes to me, a serious look burning deep inside of them. “Then, in that case, what is Leopold’s potential?”

I grinned. “If my eye is to be believed. He has the potential to be a Grandmaster mage,” I answered truthfully.

Varnir clicked his tongue in frustration. “Damn…I knew he was holding back.”

“It’s true. He definitely was as much as anyone this early in the tournament should be. However, you still nearly beat him. Leopold has the potential to be a Grandmaster mage. He is not one yet. Maybe in a few years, with more experience and growth, he will be a Master. Varnir, I didn’t get a chance to tell you yesterday, but your plan to force the fight to a quick draw was the correct decision. I believe—”

“Yeah, he was using a dungeon item, right? Most, if not all, of his wind magic wasn’t normal,” Varnir interjected. “I figured it out after the fight. In the end, I got hit in the leg by a spell I never heard, saw, or sensed. I know trying to tire him out would have been a bad idea.”

To think he noticed that…Leopold did an excellent job at covering it up as well. Varnir’s ability to analyze things really is top-notch if he puts his brain to it.

“Impressive, Varnir,” I said honestly.

Varnir smirked, unable to hide his smile. “Well, thanks. I’ve had some really good teachers recently—” Varnir stopped what he was going to say and looked out at the field with tired eyes. “So, what is my potential, Kaladin?”

“Do you really want to know?” I asked him as I waved Cerila over.

“Would it be better if I didn’t?” he seemingly asked himself more than me.

I shrugged. “I personally wouldn’t want to know my potential. Even if it was something fantastical, it might either make me unnecessarily self-conscious or, even worse, someone who was completely full of themselves. Thinking that my talent would carry me in light of hard work.” I looked Varnir straight in the eyes. “You have plenty of potential, Varnir. You should keep doing what you are doing. Don’t you feel stronger? Hasn’t your hard work paid off just in a single match?”

“That’s true…I understand. Thanks, Kaladin,” Varnir said, some of his previous vigor returning to his face.

I signed to Cerila.

She wiped the dirt off her form-fitting black and red tournament uniform. she signed back with a frown.

“Good match, Cerila,” Varnir said with a thumbs up and smile.

She nodded at him and sat down on the bench directly in front of us. Today my match would be one of the latest, and I would be facing someone from Tel’an’duth’s Saber Academy. I didn’t recognize the name, and neither did Lin.

Unfortunately, our opponents for these first three days were completely random. There was a chance you could face anyone from any school, and that also meant your own. The only guarantee was that you wouldn’t face the same opponent twice.

But before my match, we would get to see someone else fight today as well.

“Sylvia and Malachi Talgan, please report to platform four,” an announcer called out to the room.

“Talgan? His last name is Talgan?

“Is he a Vampire?”

“I’ve never seen a Vampire before…”

“Wait, isn’t that the Vampire girl from Luminar?”

“I heard she helped the Dragonslayer and saved a whole bunch of people.”

Those types of hushed whispers could be heard from anywhere in the room. The people looked around and tried to spot the freshly announced fighters.

“Should we be worried about this match?” Varnir whispered from beside me.

“I wish I knew.”

Malachi walked up to the front of his room, sporting the same black and red uniform as most of the men of Forward University. His black sunglasses covered his red eyes, and the seemingly regular sword hanging from his belt was the only difference from the norm.

It was expected that Malachi was a weapon user of some kind, as Vampires traditionally couldn’t use any magic. Sylvia was an exception with her Blood Sorcery, and there were also dungeon items that could be used.

But I can tell that Malchi isn’t using any dungeon items. And the school provided that sword, and although it’s high quality, it isn’t magical in any way.

Sylvia wasn’t far behind him as she was talking with Lin and Adria in another corner. She looked less than pleased to find Malachi waiting for her at the stairs to the arena. She rolled her eyes at him, but Malchi remained calm and grinned.

The room really exploded as everyone tried to get a peek at the man with the last name of Talgan and the full red-eyed Vampire girl. The noise of the room drowned out Malachi and Sylvia’s conversation, but I didn’t need to hear it to understand what they were talking about.

Malachi bowed apologetically toward Sylvia, his smile maintained on his lips. Honestly, there was a part of me that genuinely believed Malachi was being sincere. However, the way he came off seemed slimy, as if he had alternative motives for everything he did and said.

Maybe he does, though. Lin hasn’t been able to find any additional information on him yet. I can’t discount him as being the Red Prince just yet.

Sylvia waved Malachi’s apology away and walked up the stairs and into the arena. Malachi stood there for a few moments and scratched the back of his head but eventually shrugged to himself and followed right behind her.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at their platform, and the two of them stood right in front of each other. We couldn’t see Malachi’s face as his back was turned to us, but the moment he extended his hand, Sylvia’s face scrunched up into a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“What? Did Malachi say something to her?” Varnir wondered to himself as Malachi tilted his head to the side in apparent confusion.

I couldn’t hear Sylvia’s voice, but thanks to my Dragon eye, I could read her lips from a distance. “She said something like, ‘he wouldn’t say that.’ Whatever that means,” I explained.

After that, Malachi must have tried to defend himself, but it seemed that every single thing he said only served to anger Sylvia more. Her lips turned up into a snarl exposing her fangs, and she was red in the face. I hadn’t seen her that kind of angry in a long time. She’s gotten a lot better at controlling her…frustrations as of late.

The two separated without a handshake, and we got to see Malachi’s face as he turned around. He looked utterly confused, even with his glasses covering his eyes. His lips curved down in a frown, and he looked less than pleased, and I swore he was looking right at me as if I could explain Sylvia’s behavior.

So, I shrugged, and he shrugged back at me.

“Hey! So you do know what is going on,” Varnir whined as he bumped my shoulder with his.

“No, I really don’t have a clue. I just got the feeling he was looking at me, but I’m not Sylvia’s keeper. I don’t know what he said to make her so angry,” I said in my defense.

Varnir huffed at my response, but we watched the match with great interest, along with everyone else in the arena. Malachi must have said another thing because Sylvia’s face twisted in pure hatred once more as her arms quads increased in size. Veins bulged on her neck, and the whites of her eyes turned red. The moment the round started, she shot off like a bullet.

There was a loud boom as she cracked the floor beneath her, followed by a pained grunt that echoed throughout the stadium. Sylvia had kicked Malachi straight in the chest within a heartbeat of the match's start.

A sickening crunch bounced off the walls of the staging area as our view of the stadium floor was painted red. The barrier protecting the spectators wobbled and cracked slightly as a blood trail slid down it. The crowd erupted into a resounding cheer as the fight ended in a blink of an eye, their excitement reverberating through the air like thunderous applause.

Varnir stood up from his seat with wide eyes. “Is…is he dead?”

Cerila blinked a few times and gave me a worried look, but I shook my head. “It’s gonna take a lot more to kill a Vampire than that.”

A medical team immediately brought Malachi inside the staging room and rushed him out into the hallway. But not before everyone caught a glimpse of his crushed breastplate that was now inside him, along with his eyes rolled back in his head. His chest was already forcing the metal out and putting itself together in the most disgusting way possible. If it were anyone other than a Vampire, they would have been dead.

What…what did Malachi say to her to piss her off that much? She even used Blood Burn, something I haven’t seen her use since our fight with Dem and his party.

Sylvia strode down the stairs with the applause of the stadium at her back. The entire room remained silent, and even the announcer flinched away from her. Our eyes met, and she fast-walked straight toward me.

“You are so dead,” Varnir muttered as he scooted away from me.

Syliva pointed a shaking slim finger at me. “You!”

“Me…?”

Her face and ears turned bright red as she pointed another finger at me with her opposite hand. “You! What did you tell that bastard!”

“…I don’t know? I didn’t tell him anything?” I said in pure confusion.

Did I tell Malachi something I shouldn’t have? I don’t believe I did. I even told him that if he wanted anything, he should talk to Sylvia first and that he should apologize to her, not to me.

Cerila signed quickly.

Sylvia scrunched her nose as she mentally translated the Sign Language. Her eyes went wide as she frantically looked around the room. Of course, everyone was staring at us. It was only natural, considering she came straight in after nearly killing someone to launch into a confusing tirade against me.

Syliva looked embarrassed beyond belief as tears pooled in her eyes, and her face was as red as her eyes. “I—I can’t! I’m going home!” she shouted before storming off.

Varnir let out a low whistle. “You really messed up this time, Kal.”

I…I didn’t do anything, though. But seeing Sylvia like that sure is cute sometimes. It brings back old memories.

Cerila turned around in her seat and was about to ask me something when her eyes drifted off to the side. She raised her eyebrows at me, and I looked at the person sitting next to me. They had been so quiet I completely forgot I was sitting next to them.

He was a half-Elf around my age or slightly older, wearing the silver uniform of Saber Academy. His facial features were on the gentler side and must have leaned more toward his Human blood. He had his hair cut down nearly to the scalp, a first since I’d last seen Captain Amberdew in Owlkirk. Seeing an Elf, even a half-Elf nearly bald, was strange.

But the boy appeared to be stricken with fear. His body was rigid, and he was sweating profusely. His slightly tanned skin looked pale under his eyes, and if he told me he was sick, I would believe him.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

The half-Elf jerked his entire body at my question. He slowly turned his head toward me like a worried animal. “I—I um…I’m fine, yes. I’m doing fine.”

“You don’t sound or look fine, buddy,” Varnir said, voicing my concern as well.

“I—ah, well…I think anyone in my situation would feel slightly concerned,” he said in a weak voice as he looked at me with fear.

Varnir looked around quickly and shook his head. “Yeah, I get that. But he’s not such a bad guy, I promise. Say, what’s your name?”

“Aconte …” he mumbled nervously as he looked away from me.

Oh, what are the odds of that?

“I didn’t sit by you on purpose,” I said simply.

Aconte blinked. “Huh? Really? You didn’t—”

“Do it to intimidate you? No, I had no idea who you were.”

Cerila asked.

“Yeah, we will be fighting each other soon.”

“Ooo, tough luck. Never mind, you probably should be worried about facing the Dragonslayer, huh?” Varnir said, sounding uninterested now.

Well, you turned on him fast.

Cerila just gave him a thumbs up and smiled, copying Varnir from earlier. But none of that seemed to help Aconte feel any better. Not that I blamed him. If I heard I was going against the Dragonslayer, I would—you know, I probably wouldn’t be nervous.

I guess I really am just the weird one, huh?

“Well, good luck Aconte. May the best man win,” I said with a smile and an extended hand.

Aconte smiled weakly and shook my hand without any force. “Yes…please don’t kill me.”

“Ah, it won’t be that bad. Don’t worry.”