The surprising show of Magnus was sothing that continued to be a topic well into the next two rounds. His performance had essentially made everyone else look far too weak in comparison—reducing the impact of the other matches.
Even the combat techniques showcased by the first-year students were not enough to grab the nobles attentions.
Michael, lody and Rudy managed to defeat their next two opponents without much issue, but that was to be expected. But from tomorrow onwards, things would beco tougher since it would be the quarter finals.
Magnus won all of his remaining matches, yet he did not deploy the sa technique he used in the first match—but that did not stop him from dominating the competition with his overwhelming magical prowess.
As one of the few violet-ringed mages amongst the fourth-year students, it was not surprising that he would have an advantage in things like combat. This was especially so considering he had fine control over his mana despite its high purity.
It was common knowledge that the more pure ones mana is, the more difficult it was to control it. If Michael were to try controlling violet mana at his current level, he had no doubt that it would probably go haywire and cause him internal injuries.
By the ti the four rounds were done, most of the participants were exhausted. So had fought four matches today after all. If it wasn’t for the fact the academy were so liberal with their usage of healing potions—such a tournant might not have even been possible.
For instances like this, Michael realized just how valuable healing magic could be, further reinforcing his determination to recover this lost art, even if it ant having little to no free ti in the future.
After all, not only would it be a great boon to society, it was also his ticket to creating his very own noble house. No longer would he have to seek shelter from the Winterborne family.
The house of Ellis would be strong enough on its own.
Perhaps not right away, but with a helping hand from house Arcadius and the royal family, it would not take too long. As far as Michael saw it, it would only be a matter of ti before his soul trait activated, giving him the potential to unlock even more lost magics or techniques.
Later that evening, a special feast was held within the great hall. Since the place was so large, even more tables had been set out for the special guests to be seated.
An additional five hundred guests were given this honor, almost half of those who attended the events today. It seed that this was the limit for capacity within the great hall—at least without making it too crowded.
Michael found himself in familiar company, seated with lody on his left and a red-headed teen on his right who sported a lump on his head.
"Ren, why haven’t you taken the healing potion yet..." Rose’s tired voice spoke up, clearly unimpressed.
"This is a battle trophy sis, a battle trophy." He said, enunciating the final three words.
Rose rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by his statent.
Yes, Michael was seated at the violet emblem table—a place where he’d sat only once before in the whole ti he’d attended the academy.
He had heard that they only used these types of layouts for special occasions, but he didn’t think it would only be two tis per year.
By this ti, he’d gotten to know many of the other class representatives through their weekly etings on the fifth floor. Besides himself and lody, there were six others who held the position in the student council—two per year.
The second-year representatives, Ren Lyon and Mason Hays. These two were perhaps the noisiest of the bunch, often speaking nonsense that had nothing to do with the subject matter in their etings.
The third-years Blake Child and Ren’s older sister Rose Lyon. The forr was a typical know-it-all who loved to explain things, no matter how apparent the subject. Many within the group would often lose interest the mont he went on his tangents.
Rose was much brighter and caring than her younger brother Ren, and was the most likely person to take over the role of Student council president next year—provided she made it next year.
At the other end of the table, the pretty and usually determined Michelle Watts seed unusually quiet, her eyes looking off into the distance without focus. Michael had a theory that it had sothing to do with the graduation ceremony that would succeed the conclusion of the combat tournant.
It wasn’t a hunch either. Whenever the topic of graduation was brought up she would often react like this, further centing his theory.
Beside her was the enigmatic Magnus Pritchard, the second prince of the royal family in charge of Hyperia. He wore a stoic expression, his thoughts unreadable, his bearing filled with a regal aura that was almost impossible to reproduce.
His handso features, blond locks and glistening blue eyes were traits he shared with his family who had seemingly won the genetic jackpot. Michael often told himself that he was not jealous, but in a way this was admitting he actually was.
"So Magnus, did you really use spatial magic in your first match today? I heard all the guests speculating earlier." Blake asked conversationally, trying to sound casual.
However, the table went silent as Michael and the others leaned forward imperceptibly, waiting for an answer.
Magnus sent him a firm glance only to scoff lightly. "Just because you didn’t see my movents, doesn’t an it was spatial magic." He stated, not elaborating any further.
Huh? He was just that fast? Michael thought incredulously.
Was it even possible to get that fast without the use of the combat technique Quinn had taught them? Perhaps if they had used a high-level wind spell in conjunction with the technique it might be possible...
However, it didn’t seem that they would be getting an answer out of him tonight.
"Ahem, may I have your attention please." A deep voice rang out within the hall.
The headmaster was about to begin his speech.
Reviews
All reviews (0)