The Arena Hall of Arcanum Academy wasn’t just a battleground—it was a marvel of magic, architecture, and ancient design, floating high above the main campus on its own isolated platform of stone and skyglass.
Massive arches rose into the sky like the ribs of some long-dead titan, each inscribed with glowing runes in ancient Aevarian script. Mana drifted through the air in glowing wisps, responding to the tension, excitement, and anticipation that buzzed through the crowd.
Above the central platform, translucent display panes hovered midair, flickering with names, rankings, and magical readouts. The scent of ozone and stone lingered in the breeze.
Dean stood with his assigned group on the outer edge of the arena complex, tucked beneath a vaulted arch overlooking the dueling fields. There were dozens—no, hundreds—of individual combat rings spread across the outer levels, each one levitating on its own disk-shaped platform.
In every direction, battles raged.
It was beautiful chaos.
In one arena, a Windmancer girl spun into the air, her hair braided with crackling static as she rode a cyclone, flinging razor-sharp gusts at her opponent.
In another, a boy with molten skin and a hammer of flame slammed into a stone wall raised by an Earthwarden, sparks flying with each impact like falling stars.
Nearby, a duel between a Lifeweaver and a Shadowblade blurred between healing bursts and deadly flickers of darkness—grace and violence dancing together in a deadly waltz.
The sky above swirled with energy, refracting light through the upper mana barrier. It was like watching storms, fireworks, and divine magic collide in perfect symmetry.
This... is what they brought us here for, Dean thought.
Not just survival. Not just power.
Spectacle.
<hr>
But for every graceful clash, there were failures.
A boy with a Fire affinity panicked mid-spell and set his own robe ablaze.
A Nature caster lost control of his vines, tangling himself in his own overgrowth.
An Ice mage shattered their own barrier, slipping and landing hard as instructors rushed in.
Not everyone was ready for this.
Dean watched, arms folded, eyes calm but wary.
There had to be at least ten thousand people here. Maybe three times that. Spread across dozens of elemental wings, split by age, region, and skill level. Not all were from Earth—some had clearly been here longer, already wearing colored sashes that marked second-years or ascended ranks. But Earthlings were everywhere now—scattered like seeds in this new, terrifying garden.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He wasn’t sure how many would bloom.
He wasn’t sure if he would.
But he’d survive. Of that, he was certain.
<hr>
Hours passed as the evaluations continued.
Names were called in bursts of soft system pings that echoed only in the minds of those summoned.
Dean Everett. Please report to Arena 57.
He inhaled sharply, then exhaled through his nose.
Time to move.
<hr>
Arena 57 hovered near the outer ring of the coliseum. It was a perfectly circular disk of white stone veined with silver, surrounded by a translucent mana field to protect spectators. Pale light filtered from below as if the sky itself were glowing, and on the far side stood his opponent—a girl with long green-black braids, wrapped in robes of flowing emerald and deep blue.
Water and Nature, her status hovering briefly above her for the spectators to see.
No name, no stats. Just her elements and her title:
"Hydroveil Initiate"
A tier-two class, probably. Someone who knew what she was doing.
Dean stepped onto the field. The moment his foot touched the edge, the display above his head shimmered.
Dean Everett
Class: Sorcerer
Elements: Ice | Shadow
Safe. Ordinary. Just how he wanted it.
The crowd around his arena platform murmured—not at him, but at the match-up. Dual-element fights were rare in first-year evaluations.
The announcer’s voice boomed, but it wasn’t a person—it was the system itself, echoing across all arenas.
“Begin.”
The shield around the platform shimmered, locking them in.
Dean moved first, launching a thin Frost Shard at an angle—harmless, a probing move. The girl stepped lightly to the side, not even needing a shield.
She raised both hands, and the floor beneath Dean bloomed with moss and flowers, spreading fast—Nature mana. At the same time, rings of water spiraled around her arms, forming a sphere in front of her chest.
He leapt back, Shadowstepping into a pillar of dusk left by the mana lights. The plants chased him, roots bursting through the stone like drills.
She was good. Efficient. Focused.
But then she started pressing harder.
<hr>
Dean kept it light at first. Frost barriers, shallow ice spikes, small bursts of shadow. Enough to dodge, delay, and defend.
But her strikes became faster. A vine snared his ankle and nearly yanked him down. A water whip slammed against his shoulder and spun him across the platform.
He winced. She wasn’t just trying to win.
She was trying to hurt him.
Another blast of pressurized water caught him in the side, sending him sliding across the ice. He rolled, came up to one knee, panting.
The girl raised a wall of twisting vines behind him, cutting off retreat, and began gathering moisture in the air again. Her expression was tight. Determined.
She’s trying to put me down, Dean realized.
Not just prove her strength.
She’s proving a point.
Maybe she thought he was a threat. Maybe she just didn’t like Shadows.
Either way, his ribs were aching.
He didn’t want to show off. He wanted to keep things quiet, keep things controlled.
But the moment she raised her arms again and called down a rain of sharpened leaf-blades from above—coated in mana so dense it shimmered like green fire—something in him snapped.
Fine. Just a little.
Dean''s eyes narrowed, and he felt the pulse of mana deep in his chest—the stir of that core he’d been hiding since day one.
Just one spell.
Just one glimpse.
His hand rose slowly, and both Ice and Shadow answered—not separate, but together.
The air chilled. The shadows bent inward.
He whispered the name of the skill that hadn’t yet seen the light of day.