The sun lazily hung over the sky, having expended half its energy for the day.
Yet, the heavenly canvas where it rested was vibrant, teeming with life and noise as fireworks exploded, heralding the beginning of a mundane event.
Hal, anwhile, walked steadily to the Azmarin Public Square, his identity hidden behind a jester mask.
Arcanist Joker shall attempt to make a na for himself today.
Of course, it wasn’t only him.
There are three or four others like him in the very street he was walking on, all hiding behind the safety of their masks and aliases while hoping to upset the renowned apprentices.
Soon, they arrived at the square, and Hal was awe-struck.
He had been quite used to the grandness of the cities as of late.
Yet, Hal was still taken aback by the sheer vastness of the square.
The area was also well-designed, with the entire ground paved in luxurious red bricks, nurous resting areas such as benches and fountains, and state-of-the-art Manatech lamp posts throughout.
Snapping out of his awe-induced stupor, Hal looked around and found the nurous blue banners bearing the words "Manaforge Initiate Competition Main Event" and the brand logos of all the event sponsors quite pleasing to the eye.
He then spotted the competitors’ registration area in a far corner and headed over to finalize his participation.
It was well known that those wearing masks lacked significant backing, so, unlike what usually happened to people who stood out in appearance, they drew little attention.
The aspiring arcanists and artifact enthusiasts all paid attention to the seeded candidates seated at the designated waiting area, admiring their composed and confident dispositions.
Most of them sat with closed eyes, just waiting for the event to begin without a hint of worry in their hearts.
They seed sure they would do well.
There was still an hour before the competition would begin, though, as it was still lunchti, and the event was scheduled to start at the thirteenth hour of the day.
After around twenty minutes, Hal completed his registration, heading over to the waiting area.
’Heh, these guys sure love to posture, huh?’ he mused, gazing at the seeded candidates.
He found it quite amusing that the event organizers made the effort to separate the apprentices of the masters from commoners like them.
In fact, so of the ones waiting on his side were sons and daughters of rich families enrolled in prominent Arcanist Academies.
Perhaps the Master Arcanists’ prestige was far more significant than his young inexperienced brain could imagine.
’Aihh...what am I thinking about instead of focusing?’ Hal reprimanded himself.
Soon, he was also "posturing" like the masters’ apprentices, closing his eyes to wait for the event while regulating his breathing.
Ti inevitably passed and the crowd grew larger, and larger, and larger still...
When Hal opened his eyes, he was montarily dumbfounded.
Sure, it was a grand event, but they were all rely novices, no?
What was there to gain?
Their skills and techniques weren’t worth watching yet, that’s for sure...
On second thought, he realized that most of those watching were either combat wizards, aspiring arcanists, or scouts from prominent Artifact Shops.
The wizards were likely here to observe up-and-coming Novice Arcanists and purchase their artifacts before prices skyrocketed.
Maybe they were hoping to find a hidden gem who could greatly boost their careers without breaking the bank.
The aspiring arcanists were probably just watching to inspire themselves and pick up techniques from the masters’ apprentices.
As for the scouts, they seed mostly focused on the 100 novices who had passed the preliminaries.
If any showed promise, the scouts might try to recruit them—an ideal ti to do so, since many of the participants probably didn’t know their true worth yet.
In short, they would try to swindle the inexperienced into strict, possibly inescapable contracts, using nothing more than smooth talk, a smiling face, and sweet words.
But not all of them, of course.
So simply wanted to find decent talents and recruit them with honest intentions, aiming for arrangents that would benefit both sides.
Fifteen minutes before the main event began, the sa bald old man who announced the list of those who would move on to the main event ascended the stage at one of the far ends of the square, close to the waiting area.
"Welco, everyone, to the Manaforge Initiate Competition’s main event.
I appreciate you all for coming out to witness one hundred and fifty young arcanists showcase their skills and attempt to make their nas resound throughout the empire in the early stages of their careers.
These youngsters are the cream of the crop of the upcoming generation, and their nas or aliases will likely be familiar to your ears and eyes in the years to co.
Without further ado, let us begin the Manaforge Initiate Competition’s main event!" The old man began, his aged voice mystically resounding throughout the entire square, seemingly without any aid from Manatech devices.
"Novice Arcanists, when I call your na or alias, proceed to your designated workspace."
To Hal’s surprise...
"Joker, 150th workspace."
He was the first to be called, and luckily, the station he was assigned to was at the very back, in an area with much less visibility than most other spots.
It seed as though the gods were helping him keep his secret.
"Elron Porter, 149th workspace."
"Dig Bick, 148th..."
The old man began assigning workstations in the reverse order of the nas called, leading the other participants to suspect that there was, in fact, a ranking.
They assud the first na called belonged to the top-ranked participant, while the last—soone using the alias "Joker"—was at the bottom, which explained why he was placed in the workspace with the least visibility.
The wealthy commoner Elron Porter and the young woman using the alias "Dig Bick" clenched their fists in frustration and disbelief.
They, too, believed there was a hidden ranking and that their lower placent ant they hadn’t perford well, resulting in their not-so-favorable positions.
Elron and Dig Bick refused to accept their positions.
After working so hard, they ranked so low? Unacceptable.
They inwardly vowed to do better in the main event and surprise everyone.
Ti passed, and the seeded candidates were eventually called, their workstations placed infuriatingly in the lilight, slightly separated from everyone else’s.
Wasn’t the competition giving the masters’ apprentices way too much special treatnt?
Unfair!
Unbeknownst to those who had gone through the preliminaries, these participants wouldn’t have even joined without the promise of exposure.
Without them, the event would have felt far less grand, with fewer eyes watching.
Soon ca the Big Four, called last and given special ntion, even compared to the other seeded candidates.
The ranks of their masters were also announced, drawing gasps, awe-struck gazes, and respectful silence from the audience.
"Let us welco young Miss Irish Dumont from the prominent Arcanist Clan of Dumont, and a student of none other than the twenty-ninth ranked master, rlini Sanford. Please proceed to the fourth workspace."
Not only was the maiden quite the looker, but she also carried herself with grace, causing hearts to race among the young aspiring arcanists, especially those only a year younger.
They dread of excelling in their field and one day capturing her heart.
Cornelius Gray and Allyson Blaire were called next, with introductions even grander than the last.
But as expected, their reputations were eclipsed by Altair Snowcrest, the predicted victor of the Manaforge Initiate Competition.
The three other prominent youngsters frowned at his introduction, displeased at being outshone.
At the sa ti, though, determination flared in their hearts.
They believed they had a fair chance of causing an upset, and each silently vowed to make it happen.
Only they were worthy of one another’s attention as far as the four were concerned.
The top four spots would likely belong to them.
As for the exact rankings, no one knew, and none of them intended to end up at the bottom.
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