Chapter 96: The Advancement Tournament

Chapter 96: The Advancement Tournament

Today was a grand occasion at Feipuli Academy, for it marked the annual academic assessment of the magic students—a pivotal moment when a year’s worth of tension and sweat would be unleashed in full. The brutal elimination rounds were about to begin, determining who would stay and who would go.

“Haha, the advancement tournament will be my dazzling stage!” declared a student proudly, gripping an ornate staff. Someone at his side immediately chimed in with flattery, “Of course, Senior Blain is the strongest in our class. You’ll surely come out as the top of the year in this tournament.”

“Without a doubt!” Blain’s nose seemed to tilt toward the sky. “It’s a pity that Layton is nowhere to be found. Otherwise, I’d show him his place. The very thought infuriates me!” He clenched his staff tightly with a huff.

“That’s right, Senior Blain has already reached the rank of Advanced Grand Magician. He can even wield Tier Four spells now. Aside from that girl from the Alphonse family, who else could be your match?” another well-dressed youth fawned.

“Hmph, Lisa? She’s nothing. But it doesn’t matter—I have the Flame Staff. She’s no match for me.” Blain spoke with unshakable confidence. “First place. That’s my goal!”

“Any news of Layton?” Blain asked impatiently.

“No, no one knows where he’s gone. Rumor has it he’s taken a month off,” replied a student, scratching his head.

“Hmph.” Blain snorted again, but just then, he caught sight of a girl and immediately left his group behind, hurrying over. “Canon! Canon!”

Canon was the very girl who had previously sought out Ye Tian. At the sight of Blain, her face fell. “What is it?”

“Be careful,” Blain said with a smile. “Oh, and here, this is for you.” He handed her a small, smiling badge.

“The Rast family crest. You keep it. I don’t need it.” With that, the girl turned and walked away, leaving Blain standing in the cold wind, face darkening.

“Hmph!” Blain gripped the badge tightly, a sinister smile curling on his lips.

“Senior Blain?” His cronies rushed over to comfort him.

“I’m fine. Let’s go!” Blain cast a last, hateful glance in Canon’s direction as she walked away, the resentment in his eyes deepening.

“Professor Charles, have you seen that servant boy return?” Canon found Charles, anxiety evident in her voice. The advancement exams were about to begin, but there was still no sign of Layton. Had something gone wrong?

“Sorry, dear Miss Canon. I haven’t seen Grey in almost a month,” Charles sighed, smacking his lips. He felt as if he’d lost weight lately. After tasting Ye Tian’s cooking, the fare prepared by the academy chefs simply couldn’t tempt him.

“Oh, thank you,” Canon murmured.

“Don’t worry, Miss Canon. Layton should be able to make it,” Charles consoled her.

“I hope so.” Canon gazed into the distance, truly not knowing where Layton could be.

“Don’t think about it too much, Miss Canon. Go and prepare yourself—the competition will be fierce today,” Charles advised.

“Yes, thank you, Professor Charles.” Canon nodded and left, leaving Charles shaking his head behind her.

The advancement exam at the academy was simple: opponents were drawn at random. The victor earned two points; the loser received none, and a draw also brought no points. In short, to avoid elimination, one had to win.

“Hmph, my stage!” Blain sat quietly in the arena’s front row. As a top student, he enjoyed a prime seat to observe the matches, though he would eventually have to take the stage himself.

“Winner, Giscar!” The referee announced victors from the stage at intervals, while the defeated could only hang their heads and await the next round. Some, gravely injured, would be eliminated outright and barred from further competition.

Blain’s gaze never left Canon, while the girl herself stared fixedly outside the arena.

“Match seventy-three: Blain versus Caslaby!” announced the referee, calling the next competitors. Blain rose, straightened his magic robe, and entered the arena.

Caslaby, an ice mage, had only recently advanced, but his level was technically higher than Blain’s—if they fought bare-handed. But now…

“Senior Caslaby, you may attack first,” Blain said, to everyone’s surprise.

“Then I won’t hold back!” Caslaby replied, launching into a chant. Instantly, countless ice blades materialized in the air.

“Ice Storm!” he shouted, and the swirling blades shot toward Blain.

“Impressive magic, it seems Senior Caslaby has real talent. What a pity.” Blain sneered and swept his staff. “Infernal Fire!”

Boom! Flames engulfed the entire arena.

“You’ve lost!” Blain laughed triumphantly.

“You…!” After the fire subsided, Caslaby lay charred on the ground, his condition utterly miserable.

“Haha, I can’t wait!” Blain admired his staff, then glanced outside the arena. “Layton, I look forward to meeting you!”

“The Flame Staff!” At the edge of the arena, the referee gasped, having only just noticed the fallen Caslaby. “Winner: Blain.” He hastened to cast water magic on Caslaby as a team of medics rushed in.

Blain returned to his seat amid jealous and admiring stares. He glanced toward Canon, but the girl’s eyes never met his, remaining fixed outside.

“Hmph!” Blain bit his lip in frustration.

“Next match: Lisa versus Karlby Gina!” The referee’s call brought two young women to the stage, each chanting spells.

“Wind’s Swiftness!” Karlby Gina, a wind mage, cast an agility spell on herself to boost her speed.

“Flame Bind!” Lisa intoned, and a rope of fire twisted around Karlby Gina’s ankles, immobilizing her.

“Fireball!” Lisa cried, conjuring four basketball-sized balls of fire to surround her opponent. Realizing she was trapped, Karlby Gina conceded.

“No wonder she’s the daughter of the Alphonse family—truly impressive!” Lisa’s magic wasn’t the strongest, but it was precise and quick, her tactics flawless—a true demonstration of skill. As for Blain, many still harbored doubts about his abilities, suspecting that his real strength came from his staff.

“Haha! The Flame Staff hasn’t appeared for decades. Who would have thought to see it here?” chuckled a portly, elderly mage to the referee.

“Yes, rumor has it that simply holding the staff can instantly raise your rank. Truly enviable!” another old man replied, smiling.

“Ah, the younger generation never lives up to the last,” sighed another elder.

“Old man, this is simply a different era,” someone interjected. “Whether it’s for better or worse is no longer our concern.”

“Indeed, we’re old now, too old for hope. Do you think the Headmaster can reach that realm?” another elder asked.

“I doubt it. So many years have passed, and still no clue. It’s truly worrisome.”

“Haha, old fool, are you afraid of dying?” another old man teased.

“Aren’t you?” the first replied, grinning.

“Who says I’m not? I’m terrified!” the other laughed. “No matter how many years I live, I still don’t want to die!”

The elders exchanged glances and burst into laughter together. Down below, the students looked curiously toward the judges’ seats, puzzled by what could amuse the academy’s venerable figures so.

The fierce competition continued in the arena. The harsh elimination rules remained unchanged. Victorious students strode out with pride, while the defeated slunk away, heads bowed. Each student clenched their fists, determined to stay in the academy—for without it, their magical future would be lost.

“Next match, Layton versus Blain!” The referee announced the contenders. Blain glanced toward the entrance—still no sign of Layton.

“Coward!” Blain thought, stepping into the arena.

“Layton, please enter the arena. If you do not appear within five minutes, you will forfeit and be expelled from the academy,” the referee said expressionlessly. The world was cruel; often you couldn’t avoid its trials, and had no choice but to press on despite your fears.

“Where is that coward? You spineless wretch!” Blain taunted, hoping to provoke Layton, but there was still no sign of him. “Coward, you don’t deserve Canon’s favor. You don’t even have the courage to stand on this stage. You’re destined to be a failure!”

In the stands, Canon gripped her staff tightly. Damn that Grey—where had he taken Layton?

“Coward, go home and drink your milk!” Blain’s jeers whipped the crowd into a frenzy. His cronies joined in, but still Layton did not appear. Frustrated, Blain felt as if he were performing for nothing.

“Respected professor, I request to be declared the winner of this match,” Blain said, feigning elegance.

“No. There is still one minute and thirty seconds,” replied the referee, unmoved.

“He won’t come. He’s nothing but a coward, too afraid to stand here,” Blain insisted.

“No. One minute and twenty seconds remain,” the referee repeated.

“He’s a coward, a weakling. I won’t waste my time on him,” Blain continued. Suddenly, a figure appeared, ascending the steps. “Sorry, professor. I’m late.”

“One minute remains. Prepare yourselves—the match will begin shortly,” the referee said, still expressionless, before stepping down.

“So you finally turned up, coward. I’ll make you suffer!” Blain said excitedly.

The newcomer was none other than Layton, who had been missing for a month. He dropped heavily to the ground, gasping for breath.

Blain nearly went mad when Layton ignored him completely. This trash dared to look down on him? He would reduce him to ashes!

“Well, Layton, what dock did you crawl out of? How long has it been since you changed clothes?” Blain mocked, laughing at Layton’s ragged appearance. “A commoner is always a commoner—this look suits you perfectly!”

Layton closed his eyes, slowing his breath.

Blain, incensed by Layton’s disregard, gripped his staff so tightly that veins bulged from his hand. “I’ll make you die in disgrace!”

“Is he all right?” a girl beside Canon asked, noticing how her hand trembled when Layton appeared.

“He’ll be fine,” Canon replied, though Layton looked every inch a beggar from the slums, his wretchedness tightening a knot in her heart. “Layton, what happened to you?”

“One minute is up. Both of you, prepare—the match is about to begin,” the referee announced, expressionless as he reappeared on the stage.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” Blain replied with studied grace.

“Mm.” Layton nodded calmly.

“Then begin!” the referee declared.

Blain raised his staff with a twisted grin. “Infernal Fire!” Instantly, a sea of flames engulfed the arena.

“Hahaha!” Blain cackled. “Die, Layton!”

“How interesting,” murmured an old man among the judges, a smile playing at his lips.

“What is it, old fellow?” asked another.

“Someone has put my theory into practice!” the old man laughed.

“Really?” The others stared in surprise, turning their eyes to the arena.

As the flames faded, Blain’s laughter died abruptly. Before him stood a magical shield—no, upon closer inspection, three layers: wind on the outside, water in the middle, and ice at the core.

“This can’t be!” Blain knew the power of Infernal Fire. Even if he could only wield a fraction of it, no other student should be able to withstand it. “Impossible!” he shouted.

“Incredible!” the old man stroked his beard. “Wind, water, ice—all basic spells—and yet they blocked a Tier Seven spell. Unbelievable.”

“Could you have done it at his level?” another elder asked.

“No. Even at his age, I wouldn’t dare claim I could withstand a Tier Seven spell,” the old man replied, his hand trembling slightly.

“So this student is a prodigy among prodigies? In that case, I’ll take him as my disciple,” laughed another elder.

“Hands off! I saw him first!”

“So did I!” The two elders began to argue.

“Hmph!” came a cold snort from a long-bearded elder, and the pair immediately fell silent. “This one is mine,” declared the long-bearded elder.

“No!” the other two chorused, and the judges’ seats erupted in lively debate.

Meanwhile, the students’ eyes were glued to the arena, where Layton was single-handedly turning the match into his own exhibition. No matter what spell Blain unleashed, Layton countered it with ease.

Fireballs rained down like a storm, daunting to behold, but to Layton, it was merely a matter of numbers. Compared to Ye Tian’s strange staff, these unconsciously controlled spells were nothing.

Bang, bang, bang! Dust flew up from the ground, but when it settled, Layton still stood, unharmed.

“No!” Blain was terrified. Why, even with the Flame Staff, could he not best Layton? Layton hadn’t even used offensive magic so far. Was he truly inferior?

“No, I refuse to believe it!” Blain shouted. “Unleash!” He raised his staff high.

“No, this boy is losing control!” cried an elder. “Stop him!”

“Too late!” Blain sneered, “Layton, die! Spear of Hellfire!”

A flaming spear materialized above Layton’s head and plummeted downward.

Boom! The entire arena was consumed in a roaring inferno.