“Alright, everyone! After that last match between Beric and Malo, I can tell none of you can contain your excitement!”

  The stands shook with anticipation as everyone was eager to see what came next.

  “Now, without further ado, the next—” Gabno suddenly faltered mid-sentence as a woman approached him from the side of the stage. She leaned close, whispering something quickly into his ear.

  Gabno’s confident grin wavered. “What? Are you sure about that?” he asked, his voice barely caught by the mic.

  After a moment, Gabno straightened, clearing his throat into the microphone. “Ahem. It seems we’ve had a slight change of plans. Due to the incoming rain, and the longer-than-expected match between Beric and Malo, to keep the festival running on schedule, the next preliminary rounds will be held simultaneously.”

  The crowd stirred, exchanging confused yet intrigued glances as the announcement sank in.

  What the?

  Boos and groans rippled through the crowd, but Gabno only sighed and shook his head. “I’ve also been informed,” he said with a shrug, “that the writer has realized things are getting a bit dragged out, and he apparently wants things to speed up. Whatever that means.”

  Wow.

  Scratching the back of his neck, Gabno continued, “Anyway, if everyone’s on board, I’d like to ask the remaining fourteen contestants to make their way to the Arena.”

  A low buzz of discontent swept through the stands as people began muttering their frustrations.

  Leaning forward in my seat, I peered past the shifting crowd to watch the competitors heading toward the field.

  The first two figures that caught my eye were familiar faces—Rune and Orion.

  Behind them trudged a boy who looked completely out of place. Like the rest, he couldn’t have been older than seventeen, but the fatigue etched across his face made him look decades older, like a worn-down salaryman trapped in a teenager’s body. His hair, a dull mess of charcoal strands, hung flat against his head, and his plain leather tunic and washed-out gray cloak only added to his weary appearance. Shoulders slumped, he moved with the sluggish resignation of someone who hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in years.

  Uh, let’s see-

  I glanced at Sys who was now wearing glasses, swiping away at a small tablet.

  That is Noll Graves. Despite his unimpressive look, Noll is recognized as a very talented individual with a gift for Cursed magic, along with a respectable foundation in swordsmanship.

  Oh, cursed magic. This is going to be my first time seeing that in action then.

  Then came along Zin and Tristan, the two looking as cocky as ever, waving and smiling at the crowd with that fake, noble glow to them.

  There’s Zachary Joost, the green haired guy with the snake eyes walking behind those two. He’s skilled with polearms and wind magic, having learned both from a group of monks that took care of him since birth.

  His messy, moss-colored hair brushed against his sharp features, and his slit pupils gave him a unique look. He wore a sleeveless tan tunic bound with dark green sashes, loose trousers tied at the knees, and simple boots. Bandages wrapped his forearms while a long polearm rested across his back, its blade faintly glimmering with a teal hue.

  Okay, and those two girls that just appeared. The quiet looking one with the blue hair in a ponytail is Nyra Yun. She’s known to be quick on her feet and is good with the sword, but she really excels in the usage of small daggers and knives, striking when one least expects it.

  Her sharp, sea-colored eyes flicked as she walked. She wore a fitted dark-blue tunic with light leather padding and short boots. A belt lined with small daggers and throwing knives rested snugly at her waist, each one positioned for a quick draw. At her side hung a slender short sword, its polished blade catching my attention.

  “Hold up, Yun?”

  She’s the sister of Merilda.

  I looked carefully at her.

  She walked slowly to the Arena, nodding slightly to the people she walked by to get there, bowing sometimes to people that were much older than her. I noticed that she kept a polite look during it all.

  “Is she adopted?”

  Nope, but anyway, do you see the red haired girl behind her, the one grinning wildly with a crazy look?

  “I see her.”

  Her fiery hair, tied loosely behind her head, gleamed like burning embers in the light. She wore a sleeveless leather vest over a rough crimson tunic, her arms bare except for the thick wraps around her fists and forearms, the kind used by brawlers who solved things with their fists before talking things out. Her trousers were sturdy and so were her boots.

  Everyone in the crowd couldn’t help but see her hair literally “burn” brightly as she walked with a proud and excited look.

  Kae-

  “Kaelyn Drinda.” Elder Alric suddenly said as he leaned his head next to me.

  Sys had a very offended look.

  “Kaelyn Drinda?” I asked.

  Elder Alric let out a slow breath. “Keep a close eye on her. She may not be part of the Zenith Generation, but in terms of raw firepower, she’s nearly on Malo’s level.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “She’s the real deal. Her master trained her well.”

  “I see—”

  I froze as Elder Alric’s grin twisted into something unsettling.

  “But since you beat Malo,” he said, voice rising with manic delight, “that means I’m better. I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”

  The guy who keeps shaking and looks like he doesn’t know why he’s here is Corven Drowl. He’s a mage with a specialty for Combustion magic.

  “Combustion?”

  You know, the subclass of both Fire and Wind?

  “Oh, gotcha.”

  The trembling guy who looks like he’s questioning every life choice had messy brown hair that stuck out in every direction, not at all covered by his wizardesque hat. He wore a loose, soot-stained robe that might’ve once been blue but now leaned closer to gray, with faint scorch marks along the sleeves. He clung his wooden staff tightly, as if it was the only thing he could trust here.

  Uh, let’s see……that guy is…….damn, I don’t even have a name for him. Irrelevant ass. This next guy is…….wow, also no name. Damn, the next two guys don’t have any either. Why are there so many NPC’s-

  The sudden roar of the crowd made Sys and me jump.

  We both turned toward the source of the commotion.

  Striding into view was a tall young man, moving with effortless confidence, his grin so bright it could make even the sun shy away. He waved to the audience as though he owned the place, and judging by the crowd’s reaction, he might as well have.

  The moment I saw him, I felt it.

  I felt that unmistakable aura of the chosen.

  It was like witnessing a star descend from the heavens, its brilliance impossible to ignore.

  The energy shifted around him. The spectators cheered with wild admiration, while the other competitors watched in silence. Some watched with awe, others with envy, a few with quiet fear.

  And through it all, he stood tall, basking in the storm of attention as if it were his natural element.

  This is-

  “No need.”

  Huh?

  I know who this is.

  “It’s Mayern.”

  I guessed he was at least seventeen, yet his straight posture carried the weight of someone far beyond his years. His short, tousled blond hair caught the sunlight, and his amber eyes shone like molten gold.

  He was dressed in a dark, fitted tunic of flexible fabric, layered under a light leather vest reinforced at the shoulders and chest. His slim, dark leather pants were tucked into knee-high boots, while a short crimson cloak fluttered lightly from his shoulders, clasped with a simple emblem of an owl. Leather bracers protected his forearms, and a thin belt held a respectable sword, not too short, but also not too long. It was a normal sword, and yet it was the type of sword that any warrior would be fine with wielding.

  “Ah, Mayern.” Elder Alric said.

  Cedric and Merilda both sighed.

  “If you make it to the finals, Beric,” Cedic started, “You’re going to go up against him.”

  Woah, what’s up with this glaze?

  You were glazing him as well just a moment ago-

  “I almost feel sorry for you,” Merilda said flatly.

  “Hey, don’t count Beric out just yet!” Arthur protested.

  Volk shook his head. “No, honestly, we probably can. Everyone here knows who Mayern is. We all have heard of his skill, his talent, and his power. To be frank, he shouldn’t even be wasting his time in a tournament like this. A prodigy like that belongs in the royal capital, serving among the kingdom’s elite guards.”

  Elder Liora’s gaze softened as she watched him. “That sword of his, he’s cared for it well.”

  I shivered when she turned and gave me a knowing glance.

  “Stop it,” Arthur then said. “Beric will be fine. I mean, he did beat Malo.”

  “You made a good point for once.” Elaine remarked.

  “Thank yo— wait, hold on—”

  Merilda leaned forward. “Mayern was the one fighter everyone believed could defeat Malo, until you came along. But even if you’ve proven stronger than expected, Mayern still surpasses you in nearly every way — speed, strength, skill, and magic.”

  Great. Just when I was starting to feel confident again.

  “And experience,” Elder Alric added. “You have immense potential, but you’re still a sprouting seed that needs time to grow.” He looked back toward Mayern. “While Mayern is a strong tree that has stood the test of talent and has shown that he is truly one of a kind.”

  “The Zenith Generation’s Monster of Swordsmanship,” Elder Walden muttered. “The Genius of Copying.”

  “Copying?” I asked.

  Elder Alric rested an arm around my shoulders. “Pay attention,” he said with a grin. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  At the Arena, all the competitors stood side by side, waiting patiently for the next round.

  “Thank you, competitors, for being here,” Gabno announced, his voice booming across the stands. “And to my loyal spectators, thank you for your patience while we get everything ready! Now, I understand there’s growing frustration about having to settle every fight at once. After a match as incredible as the last, how could anyone be satisfied with a rushed performance?”

  Before the crowd could begin to boo, Gabno raised a hand. “Still, it does not mean that we have to ruin the tournament. All we have to do is speed things up.”

  He paused, letting the murmurs die down before speaking again. “What we're going to do is adjust the format.”

  Confused glances passed through the crowd.

  “What’s he talking about?” Arthur whispered to Elaine.

  “I don’t know,” she replied.

  Gabno’s eyes scanned the competitors. “Every fighter will have a predetermined opponent, but instead of solitary one-on-one matches, all fights will occur simultaneously. Each of you must focus on your own battle while avoiding interference with the others in the Arena.”

  The crowd fell silent.

  “Essentially, everyone fights at once, but only against their assigned opponent, while dodging and evading the rest.”

  Some competitors grumbled, displeased by the unconventional rules, but Gabno silenced them with a sharp glance.

  Adam stepped onto the stage, directing everyone where to stand, assigning opponents, and explaining the basic rules.

  For the rest of us, there was nothing left to do but wait. Many spectators were still frustrated, expecting a series of exciting one-on-one fights, only to be forced to track multiple matches at once.

  I leaned back with a sigh.

  I just fought the battle of my life, and now I have to watch everything happen at once? Meh, I’ll just sleep through it.

  “Beric, watch closely. This is part of your training,” Elder Alric said, yanking me upright.

  I groaned but obeyed.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  This better be entertaining.

  As Adam left the stage, the competitors began to eye each other warily.

  “Without further ado,” Gabno shouted, “let the preliminary rounds commence!”

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Noll stood in place as everyone else scattered, each competitor trying to carve out space and enough time to size up their opponents.

  Nearby, a fight had already erupted, with Rune clashing with Zachary. The metallic ring of steel echoed as Rune swung his sword, while Zachary struggled to deflect each strike.

  Noll merely watched as more fights began to arise, as he didn’t particularly feel like fighting yet.

  But unfortunately, he had to.

  He tilted his head just as three sharp blades whizzed past where his head had been moments before.

  “Noll Graves.”

  The voice belonged to his attacker.

  Standing in a boxer-like stance, right arm raised and twin katars gleaming menacingly in his hands, the guy looked aggressive.

  “You shouldn’t be standing around carelessly.”

  He waited for Noll to make a move.

  “Who are you?” Noll asked flatly.

  “Huh?” The man lowered his stance slightly. “I’m your opponent.”

  “Who?”

  Annoyance flickered across the man’s face. “My name is—”

  A sudden explosion nearby drowned out his words.

  “What’d you say?” Noll asked.

  “I said my name’s—”

  Before he could finish, Gabno’s voice blared over the arena, censoring him again.

  “Huh?” Noll muttered.

  “Agh, whatever,” the man grumbled. He shifted forward. Channeling body-strengthening magic, Noll, and even Beric from the stands, sensed the power flowing strictly into the man’s legs.

  “I’ll just tell you after I win.”

  With a sonic boom, the man lunged forward, katars aimed for a sharp drive. Noll tried to react, but the speed was overwhelming, and a clean slice grazed his hand. He quickly hid his injured hand within his cloak as he lurched forward.

  The attacker wiped sweat from his chin, mockingly grinning. “Not too fast, are you?”

  Noll didn’t respond as he merely looked at him.

  “As I was saying earlier,” the man began again, leaning forward, “My name is—”

  The sudden sensation of a cold, clampy hand grabbing onto his ankle made the opponent instinctively freeze and check it.

  Peering down, he was confused when he saw the black outline of a ghastly hand gripping onto him tightly.

  “What is-”

  Sensing something wrong, he quickly spun his head around, but he only saw the injured hand of Noll right before him, then grabbing his neck as he was forced down below. He tried to fight back, but he suddenly felt more and more hands keep him in place.

  “How did you—”

  “After such a blinding fight, it’s only natural for someone like me to remain unseen,” Noll said, pressing him further down. “To fight in the background of a chaotic brawl, it suits me.”

  Panic set in as the opponent realized he could barely breathe.

  “I belong to the shadows, and so does your name,” Noll continued coldly. “We have no right to exist in the same light as them. But know this. I don’t plan on losing, even in the darkness.”

  The opponent’s struggles grew weaker, until the lack of oxygen claimed him. Noll released him, recalling the countless hands into the shadows.

  “Ooooooh, Hione has passed out from Noll’s ruthless, forceful submission! That means Noll moves on!”

  “Hione?” Noll thought.

  “What a boring name.”

  Raising his “injured” hand, he let the blood disperse into the shadows, dissolving as if it had never been real.

  And just as quickly, another explosion erupted nearby.

  “GET AWAY FROM ME!” Corven screamed, eyes brimming with tears as he clutched his hat. A monstrous creature tore after him across the arena. He scrambled forward, using Combustion magic to propel himself with bursts of fire while conjuring barriers to shield him from the explosions he created.

  “I won’t let you forfeit!” Kaelyn growled, chasing him down. Even her sprint left a trail of sparks and embers, friction igniting the ground beneath her feet.

  The explosions sent shockwaves through the other battles.

  Rune cursed as smoke swirled, obscuring his view of Zachary.

  A sharp thrust suddenly shot through the haze, and Rune barely parried it in time.

  As the dust cleared, he realized what had happened: Zachary had used wind magic to cut through the smoke.

  Zachary stood tall, grinning with a wicked glint in his eyes, licking his lips as he locked onto Rune.

  “There you are.”

  In the next instant, he closed the distance at impossible speed, a blur that left Rune barely enough time to react.

  Rune’s mind raced.

  He recognized the technique. It was Stream Step, a wind magic skill that allowed its user to “ride the wind,” closing in at lightning speed.

  Anticipating it, Rune preemptively raised his sword and managed a narrow, desperate parry to deflect the thrust.

  Just as Zachary moved to swing his polearm horizontally, the two froze and quickly ducked, narrowly avoiding the leaping Nyra, a pair of flying daggers trailing right behind her.

  With a fluid twist in midair, Nyra rolled beneath the daggers, sending them clattering into the ground at Noll’s feet.

  She landed seamlessly into a roll, immediately springing back into motion, narrowly evading the slash of her opponent’s longsword.

  “Annoying rodent,” he muttered, pulling more throwing daggers from his pockets.

  Nyra twisted in the air again, returning a few daggers of her own. They scattered chaotically, one striking Tristan’s blade as he stood over his defeated opponent.

  Cursing, her opponent lunged with his longsword for another sweeping attack, but his eyes widened in disbelief. Nyra didn’t simply evade as she landed atop his sword, treating the blade like solid ground. Using the momentum, she spun off it and delivered a jaw-shattering kick right on his face.

  He stumbled backward, clutching his jaw in pain, and tried to find her, only to realize she had vanished.

  A cold blade pressed against his back.

  “It’s your loss,” Nyra said plainly.

  With a sigh, he raised his hands in surrender.

  The two ducked instinctively as a massive explosion erupted overhead. Corven and Kaelyn flew through the air, the crowd collectively frozen in dumbfounded awe.

  “I GOT YOU NOW!” Kaelyn roared.

  “Just let me surrender!” Corven cried, desperately fleeing across the arena.

  Elsewhere, watching it all unfold, Mayern stood calm, while his opponent knelt.

  “Aren’t they loud?” Mayern remarked casually.

  “Shut it,” his opponent snapped.

  Mayern’s expression softened. “Aw, you don’t have to be rude about it.”

  The opponent gritted his teeth and raised his sword.

  Mayern sighed, lifting his own, but only with his left hand.

  “Come on. Give it your best shot.”

  With a yell, his opponent lunged forward, swinging in a flurry of Crimson Fang strikes. Mayern leaned back, a small smile on his face.

  “Moving in with Scarlet Blur is smart,” he noted, “but following it with Red Crescent Slash? That leaves you wide open.”

  He lifted his leg and kicked his opponent sharply.

  “You should have used a downward smash like True Eruption to force me to move to the side. You could have then continued True Eruption into a small circular swing to catch me off guard. Though still, that probably wouldn’t work against me,” Mayern added with a shrug.

  “You damn monster—” the opponent muttered, pressing forward.

  “Not a bad thrust,” Mayern observed while sidestepping. “A bit slow. Be ready for counters.” He met a side slash and thrust his sword’s helm into the opponent’s hands, eliciting a sharp cry of pain.

  “You’re not bad,” Mayern remarked.

  “Be quiet!” The opponent yelled.

  Suddenly rearing back, his opponent had a new look to his eyes as he held his sword in an unorthodox stance. His sword was in his right hand, but his left hand held the top part of its helm, gripping it directed at Mayern.

  “Wild Claw?” Mayern murmured.

  The blade shot forward, aimed at Mayern’s head. He raised his sword to parry, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw his opponent low to the ground, dashing forward. Just as Mayern adjusted, the opponent rose and caught the sword, spinning around while aiming a slash at Mayern’s side.

  Not bad at all, Mayern thought.

  Just as the opponent was about to land his attack, he froze, confused, as his sword clanged against something solid.

  It was as if he had struck pure stone.

  Only then did he realize Mayern had summoned a barrier in that small window.

  At the same time as this realization hit him, pain exploded through his body as Mayern spun into a back kick, sending him hurtling far across the arena.

  Breathing heavily, he forced himself to get up.

  “You’re not bad at all,” Mayern said with a casual smile, devoid of malice. “You actually made me use magic. That’s something to be proud of, you know?”

  His opponent scowled, taking it the wrong way.

  “You’re annoying,” he spat.

  Mayern didn’t react. Instead, he looked down at his sword, a perplexed expression on his face. “If I saw right, then—”

  The opponent’s eyes widened as Mayern mirrored the exact unorthodox stance he had used earlier.

  It was then that the opponent’s years of training and experiencing, his own instinct as a fighter, overrode everything else.

  His body reacted on its own as the blade of Mayern flew to him.

  Thinking too slowly, he realized what was happening.

  He knew that, just as he raised his blade to meet it, to parry it, when the figure of Mayern appeared below, that it was the exact same move of his earlier: Deadly Decoy.

  It was the move that had taken him years to master.

  It was the one move that he had believed would be capable of making him at least stand a chance against someone like Mayern.

  He really did believe it.

  And as Mayern’s body rose and caught his sword, his opponent closed his eyes.

  True talent really is something else.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “What the hell?” was all I could say.

  The crowd had an opposite reaction, yelling and screaming in pure entertainment.

  They had seemed somewhat skeptical about it all, but I guess it was better than what they had expected.

  “So, what do you think?” Elder Alric asked.

  The way they fought, their magic, their techniques, their way of thinking and reacting—

  “It’s all so unique.”

  Elder Alric chuckled at that. “I agree.” Then, he took on a more serious look. “But what can you tell me about them? For example, what about Noll?”

  I thought back to Noll.

  "He’s a smart fighter.”

  “How so?”

  “He deliberately used Blood magic to cover his own hand with it, to trick his opponent into thinking he had been injured. Tricked by his weakened state, his opponent would then try to take advantage by rushing while he was trying to recover.”

  I glanced around at the Arena. Due to the length of my match with Malo, along with the aftereffects of the storm earlier, the sky was relatively dim with many clouds still present, and the sun slowly falling, reaching the trees.

  “He then hid his hand, knowing that his opponent would just think he was trying to protect it, when in reality he had used Shadow magic to make a copy to summon out of his own shadow to grab onto him.”

  I had learned a lot of magic thanks to Elder Walden, Cursed magic being the more mysterious style with Shadow and Blood magic.

  “Then, he—”

  It was weird.

  Even from where I had sat, it looked like Noll had just teleported in front of him.

  “He combined his Shadow magic with body-strengthening magic.” Elder Alric answered.

  What?

  Down below, after a final explosion, Kaelyn finally caught up to Corvyn and grabbed hold of him. Instantly, Corvyn passed out, overwhelmed by sheer terror.

  “For mages like Corvyn,” Elder Alric continued, “using advanced techniques like Explosion magic is entirely feasible. Controlling the blast with wind magic for flight and reinforcing himself with barriers strong enough to withstand the explosions is all a testament to his skill and talent.”

  Then, he paused.

  “But what about us Warriors?”

  Explosion magic is a substyle of Combustion magic, which itself blends Fire and Wind. By amplifying heat and using wind to direct the bursts, it becomes a devastating technique, one few warriors could even hope to learn.

  “Warriors aren’t expected to wield such advanced magic. We are only meant to master what we can.”

  To master what we can.

  “By combining Shadow magic, Noll was able to briefly slip into the shadows between himself and his opponent, reappearing instantly in physical form right in front of him. With the essence of shadows surrounding him, his body became intangible and invisible, creating the perfect illusion of teleportation.” Elder Alric explained.

  “Sys, you can do that?!”

  Yeah.

  “Then, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  Isn’t it obvious?

  “What are you-” Oh, right.

  I can’t use elemental magic.

  Elder Alric must have noticed my crestfallen look.

  “Since you can’t use elemental magic, we figured there was no point teaching it to you. After all, why waste time teaching you something you can’t do, when we can teach you what you can master?”

  I stayed quiet and watched him.

  “Look at Rune and Zachary down there. Tell me, if you were in Rune’s place, what would you do?”

  I scanned them, taking mental notes: Zachary’s posture, his footwork, how he answered Rune’s blade with defensive strikes.

  “He’s cautious,” I said. “He fights defensively by keeping his distance and by using wind magic to snip at openings when Rune slows. When he commits, it’s usually a textbook combo: bait, then a horizontal slash turned into a sweeping leg cut to force a jump, followed by a thrust. He’s trying to drain Rune’s stamina with reach and tempo.”

  I watched Zachary’s polearm flash: a horizontal cut Rune parried, a sweep that forced a leap, the polearm’s tip stabbing toward Rune’s chest until Rune erected a small barrier to stop it.

  “For someone like him,” I finished, “the best plan is to close the gap and make him panic. I’d use Crimson Fang to rush in, and the moment I’m inside, switch into Wild Claw to throw him off even further. By that point, I’ll fight defensively and wait for him to slip up even more.”

  “Is that it?”

  I looked at Elder Alric.

  He seemed slightly disappointed. “Is that all?”

  I frowned. “Yes?”

  He sighed and crossed his arms. “That isn’t enough.”

  “What do you mean? It’s the perfect counter to his fighting style! Unless, do you mean what type of weapon I should choose? For him, I’d use a spear mainly, but also a small dagger for when I get in to switch into—”

  “You are strong.”

  I paused. “Sorry?”

  “But you are also at a huge disadvantage. You take too long to think, and you rely too much on weak notations like ‘perfect counters.’ You don’t even recognize what you truly can do, as you didn’t even consider using magic or your summons to aid you.”

  He looked me squarely in the eyes. “And do you know why?”

  I gulped.

  “You became complacent. After your victory against Malo, you saw how much stronger you had grown, but you also began to believe that beating the peak meant your current skills are enough. That is completely wrong. You’ve only scratched the surface of your potential.=. Instead of striving for more, you’ve allowed yourself to rely on counter styles and counter tactics, thinking they alone will carry you to victory.”

  “But, I did use my summons earlier against Malo!”

  “You did, but you didn’t use them to their full potential. Just as how you don’t know your own limits, you also don’t know their limits.”

  I looked downward.

  What’s up with him? I’d already felt off earlier, after seeing how much they glazed Mayern, and now he was telling me all of this.

  Even I could recognize how insane it all was.

  Noll’s use of Shadow magic combined with body-strengthening magic proved that what I had wasn’t nearly enough.

  Then there was Kaelyn, igniting herself with fire magic, her explosive speed leaving sparks dancing in her wake.

  And then, Mayern.

  I hadn’t thought much of him at first. Confident, yes—but why? What made him shine?

  And then I saw him fight.

  The way he avoided every attack without effort, countered perfectly at every opening, and-

  How easily he copied that move.

  If he did that to me, if he revealed the gap in pure talent,

  “What could I possibly do?” I muttered quietly.

  “What can you do?” Elder Alric repeated. “That’s exactly the question. You can’t use elemental magic, so you can’t fight like them. You don’t have the innate talent of Mayern or Malo, so you can’t copy their techniques either. Mayern has eyes that detect the slightest twitch of a muscle, and he uses body-strengthening magic to replicate every move down to a single motion. Malo has raw strength that makes technique almost irrelevant. All you have is your own Form of treating yourself like a weapon.”

  Hearing it like that, it almost sounded ridiculous—

  “But that’s wrong,” Elder Alric said firmly.

  “You do have your own magic. You have your summons.” He fixed his gaze on me. “The real question now is: what will you do with them? How will you win?”

  I repeated the words quietly. “How will I win?”

  He gestured toward the arena.

  “Study them carefully. Watch every single one at once. Burn into your mind every breath, every step, every attack, and every habit. You can’t do what they can, so your goal is to understand what they can do. Visualize yourself fighting each one individually, simultaneously. Don’t let up for a single second. Do this so that when you fail, when you can no longer keep up, you see your true limits. Understand what you need to improve, so that you can grow stronger and surpass them.”

  His words left me speechless.

  “Focus on what you can do, and what you need to refine to surpass that. Your fighting relies too much on memorization and overthinking. Fighting isn’t about worrying over every move. It’s about striving to overcome your opponent.”

  In other words, Elder Alric thought, you have to reach a point where your body reacts on instinct. Your mind worries about only one thing: winning.

  The ring demands complete focus. The world fades, and all that remains is you and your opponent. The zone, the flow, call it what you will.

  But to reach that point, one thing is necessary.

  “The force that transforms potential into skill, that turns failure into lessons, is exactly why you’re here. It is the thing that will allow you to master your own Form.”

  He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.

  “It is experience.”