Over the years, having become a platform to identify the next generation of geniuses, the Induction had gained a lot of fame, and yet outsiders had never been allowed a seat in the audience. Even the Empire’s king wasn’t an exception.

This rule had initially attracted some discontent among the nobles, but the blue-bloods had still been forced to comply. No matter their stature, the nobility knew better than to risk attracting the headmaster’s ire over such a small matter.

The Academy was a host to three Coliseums, the largest of which was packed with an excited crowd of mana wielders. Ten large stone platforms divided the Coliseum’s stage, each holding a match of its own.

Spread across two days, the Induction consisted of numerous bouts, several of which were scheduled to begin fairly early in the morning.

Unlike the room full of sophomores, the freshmen’s designated waiting area was filled with nervous energy. The few confident participants were already on stage. Amy was one of them. Welcoming excited rows of observers, she stepped onto her designated platform.

Like with any official dual among students, each round was presided over by a judge whose strength was at least at the level of a Crusader or a Master Mage.

An almost invisible barrier, designed to deflect every stray spell or attack, cozily surrounded every platform. The little noise from weapons and spells colliding, however, was drowned out by the cheering crowd.

Moments after Amy’s arrival, her opponent calmly stepped on stage. With black combat attire and a touch of arrogance, the blonde young man bore resemblance to his father, Marquis Cullen.

Judging the match between the two heirs was a man with greying hair and sharp eyes – Crawford Winfield. “You know the rules. This better be a clean fight.” He said. Years had passed, and yet this retired military officer turned professor still retained his discipline and brevity.

“Of course, Mr. Crawford needn't worry.” The young man answered before directing a tactful bow towards Amy. “Miss Walker, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before. My name is Phillip Cullen.”

“No, you haven't.” Amy instantly felt disgust well up inside her. She wasn’t one to be fooled by his façade and had instantly noticed his momentary lascivious gaze. But as in many noble gatherings, she knew that she too had to keep up with the pretenses. The gentle smile on her face was her attempt at reluctantly concealing her feelings of repulsion.

The heirs of the various noble families were groomed from a young age and burdened with high expectations. While the populace envied their privileges, they often failed to notice the heavy responsibilities that came with the family titles. As the next generation of the Empire’s pillars, the blue-blooded children would undergo rigorous training which would often result in personalities with traits like discipline and competitiveness. However, there were always a few who cracked under the pressure.

Tired of competing against his brother to become Marquis, Phillip had essentially paved the way for the latter’s ascension. Much to his father’s chagrin, not only had Phillip given up, but he had also begun to waste his talents after entering Asterisk Academy. The second son of the Marquis had started to fool around, often visiting brothels and spending little time on the study of the magic arts.

“I heard that Miss Amy’s new Heaven Level Familiar is still in its infancy.” Phillip licked his lips. “So, why don't we leave the familiars out of this battle?”

“My… how very thoughtful of you!”

“Enough! Leave the pleasantries for later.” Crawford impatiently interrupted. Counting down, he signaled the start of the match with a clap as loud as a gunshot.

Launching their attacks at virtually the same instant, Amy and Phillip watched as ten fist sized fireballs collided at center stage. The surrounding temperature instantly shot through the roof as the conjured balls of flame tried to engulf each other.

With a wand in hand, Amy broke into a sprint even before the flames had a chance to disperse, the inaudible words of her next spell barely escaping her mouth. On the other side, Phillip took lackadaisical steps to the side while keeping his eyes on Amy.

With her chant finished, ten flaming arrows manifested and formed an arc over Amy’s head. They shot forth, like bullets from a gun, making straight for Phillip. Seemingly landing on target, a small explosion resounded in the arena as dense smoke enveloped the spot.

The rapid eruption of spells garnered many cheers from the observing crowd. It wasn’t everyday when people would get to see a square off between the prodigious daughter of a Duke and the son of a Marquis.

“Intermediate tier magic? She’s not bad at all.”

“Hmph! Let’s not jump to conclusions. It’s not impossible for an Apprentice Mage to use Intermediate magic.”

“Maybe. But as the daughter of a Duke, she has to be capable of at least this much if she wants to live up to her family name.”

As discussions ran rampant among the spectators, Phillip lightly coughed, walking out unscathed. He casually dusted off his arms with a light laugh. “Miss Walker… To be able to cast intermediate magic at your age, I’ll admit that your talent far exceeds my own, but it would be unwise to underestimate me. Attacking women isn't really my style, but I suppose it is my turn now.” A giant blue ball of flames materialized just above his head. “Careful now. The flames of Meteor's blaze burn hotter than most intermediate flame magic.”

Amy began a hasty retreat, mumbling spells and conjuring walls of fire which did little to stop the incoming attack.

“Such weak flames won't be able to stop my spell.” The young son of the Marquis said, “You should just give up Miss Walker... I would hate to put a scar on that beautiful face.”

“Annoying!” Amy muttered as a pillar of fire erupted and pierced through the Meteor’s blaze. The flames scattered, the heat disseminating through the stage, and the tiny waves of fire speedily nullified by the barrier surrounding the stage.

Gasps and cheers proliferated through the audience as its more learned members welcomed the unexpected surprise resulting from the unusual method of the spell’s disruption. It wasn’t easy to completely break apart a spell with one possessing the same affinity.

“Tsk!” Standing in a corridor, a young man with shabby hair clicked his tongue with irritation. Focused on no match in particular, he sent a disinterested glance at Amy and Phillip’s bout. “Talk about an overreaction. I won’t comment about the brat, but the debauchee is just playing around. This is exactly why I hate this stupid farce of a competition.”

“The induction is a good way for our juniors to get some combat experience.” The girl beside him responded with a wry smile. “Even if Phillip isn’t taking this seriously, Miss Walker will still gain something from her fight.”

“Evangeline… I have better things to do than babysit our juniors. The Academy should just arrange for the freshmen to battle each other.”

“And yet, here you are, watching the matches despite your disinterest. For the great August Kendall to use his time for things besides pursuing the peak of swordsmanship, pray tell, what’s caught your eye?”

August Kendall was considered to be a talent seen few and far between generations. Combined with his passion for magic and swordsmanship, he had quickly become one of the academy’s strongest students. At the age of eighteen August stood almost unrivaled among Premier Knights.

Unlike most parents, however, his father wasn’t particularly happy about his son’s immense potential. August’s father worked as the Empire’s financial minister, thus commanding great respect within the Empire. Originally, the man had desired for his son to succeed in his footsteps and become an expert in the intricacies of trade and commerce. Alas! It wasn’t long before he realized that his son’s passion for the sword overshadowed every other thought and ambition.

“You know me well!” August grinned and answered, “I heard about this year’s entrance test.”

As August recounted the details and rumors, an excited glint flashed past Evangeline’s eyes. “No wonder, if even Professor Barnes acted like that -”

“Huh? Don't make it sound like I'm waiting with bated breath.”

“Yes, yes... I get it!” Evangeline did a quick eye roll. How long have we known each other? Who are you trying to fool?

In the duration of a few minutes, Amy had already unleashed one Intermediate spell after another, forcing the spectators to admin that she was indeed an Intermediate mage. With a front seat, even the usually uptight Crawford couldn’t hide his surprise.

Seemingly also impressed, Phillip smiled at the panting girl. “It seems like I was the one doing the underestimating. As a true Intermediate Mage, it wouldn’t be farfetched to say that you are among the best in this year’s batch.” But it was only a pretense. His opponent’s unexpected persistence and skill had become more than just an annoyance. He noticed new combatants on many of the other platforms and began to feel humiliated.

As the exchange of spells continued, Phillip couldn’t help but scowl. Trying to sound convincing, he said, “Why don't we call it a day, Miss Walker? You seem to have reached your limit and I think that our little spar has already met its intended purpose.”

Crawford was secretly in agreement with the suggested proposal. Standing at one corner of the stage and deflecting the occasional stray spell, he had also come to the same conclusion, but his position prevented him from voicing his opinion.

Amy’s lips protested in pain as her teeth gnawed at them with what seemed to be her reluctance to accept the outcome. Her lungs cried out, desperate for air, her mind fuzzy as a result of her drained mental energy. She was beyond tired, but her pride wouldn’t let her bow down defeat. The feeling of invincibility she had felt when her mental energy had transformed to rival that of an Intermediate mage was nowhere to be found. She knew now that she was nowhere near as strong as she had believed herself to be. Amy gritted her teeth. Her stubbornness came through in the form of a yell. “Not yet! I’m not done!”

Gloom momentarily clouded his face as Phillip’s mouth twitched. He icily said, “Miss Walker, there is a limit to how stubborn someone should be. Like I said you're already -” His words were cut off by a flame arrow that whizzed past his cheek. Pain and shock; a fleeting set of emotions that quickly transformed into raging fury, all directed towards the obstinate teenager before him.

“I said... This fight isn't over yet!”

Phillip’s raised staff came crashing down on the stone tiles, releasing a spell in a heartbeat. Like a hissing snake, thick dense smog emerged from the tips of the staff, twisting and turning as it expanded and rapidly encompassed the entire area. Connected to him, almost like an extension of his arms, the smog allowed Phillip to sense everything it touched. “Do you think that being the Duke's daughter earns you any privileges here?” He snarled.

Crawford frowned, ready to act at moment’s notice in case things got out of hand.

“Hey… Isn’t Amy’s match taking a bit too long?” Liliana asked, sitting in one the waiting rooms. A handful of contestants who had left after the Duke’s daughter had already returned and were ready to head back to the dorms.

Max glanced at Liliana, her unease and worry increasingly apparent. She was biting her lips again. It was her tell. Max reached out, his fingers gently wrapping around hers. His gaze met hers as he tugged at her arm and said, “Let’s find out why.”

Inhaling the smog was like inhaling thousands of needles. It was no different than torture. Amy felt the tightness in her chest, the effects of the black spell depriving her of the oxygen he so desperately craved. Her eyes stung, her vision impaired. The heavy disadvantage had become absolute.

“I gave you a way out, but you spat on my face. Don't think you're getting off easy, you spoiled brat.” Phillip’s voice echoed through the arena.

Despite her vigilance, Amy had no time to react and was immediately struck. Pain. Overwhelming pain coursed through her arm as a result of the large gash created. The smell of blood and burnt flesh mixed together as she cried out in pain and held back her tears. Amy reached out at her fallen wand with a trembling hand, but forced down on the stone cold floor, screaming in agony. Two fireballs landed on her back, burning through the cloth and mutilating her flesh.

“C’mon now!” Phillip mocked, “What’s the matter? Didn’t you say you weren’t done?” The derision continued as he used a whip spawned from flames to strike at her again.

Sensing the impending danger almost on instinct, Amy jumped towards her wand and barely dodged the blow. The last of her strength was spent responding with two fire arrows which shot towards what seemed like the other end of the whip.

“Oh! That was a close... But this is the end!”

“Argh!” Flung in the air, Amy could taste the blood in her mouth. The whip extended out once more, circling around her waist, gnawing at her skin and pulling her back towards the stone platform.

As she fell through the air, Crawford appeared by her side and took her into his arms. Taking the brunt of the fall, he let out a light snort as he clasped the whip and channeled his mana to instantly destroy the conjured weapon. “That's far enough!” He roared as he unleashed the full might of a Crusader. The smog began to dispel and finally gave the restless audience a clear view of the stage.

Phillip stood to one side, using his staff to gently support himself. He showed no remorse as he looked unkindly towards Amy who was weakly resting in Crawford's arms.

The crowd gasped in unison at the sight of Amy's battered state while Crawford’s first action was to signal for a stretcher. In the midst of his preoccupation, a figure darted onto the stage. Seemingly unconcerned about everyone else, the youth knelt down and carefully began to examine Amy’s wounds.

“Move boy!” Crawford barked as he tried to push Max to the side. “Let the paramedics do their work.”

Evangeline had also made her way to the platform. She stopped the moment her eyes landed on Max. That’s weird. Why does he look so familiar?

Amy stared at the sky in a daze, her consciousness fuzzy and hanging by a thread. Her vision blurry, she noticed a familiar face and mistook the gentle gaze with the one she remembered from long ago. Two streaks of tears escaped her eyes as she softly whispered, “Brother, I’m sorry.”

As Amy passed out, Max carefully took her from Crawford’s arms and placed her on the stretcher. Glancing at Liliana, he said, “Go with her.”

Liliana hesitated as a foreboding sense of unease filled her soul. Despite his placid expression, she could tell that Max was beyond furious. Liliana eventually nodded and looked hatefully at Phillip who responded with a smirk. Walking alongside the paramedics, she disappeared into a corridor.

 “Poor girl…”

Amy's sad state had evoked a sense of pity among the members of the audience. They secretly condemned Phillip for his unreasonably vicious behavior, but there were a few who observed the scene with schadenfreude.

“Hmph! This is what overconfidence gets you.”

“Exactly! Didn't the young master of the Cullen household give her a way out? Didn’t he warn her many times? It’s her fault for overestimating her abilities and getting cocky.”

On the stage, Max stood staring at Phillip with a deadpan expression. He icily said, “You’d already won. There was no need to go that far.”

“Huh?!” Phillip’s brows twitched as he reacted to Max’s words with irritation. “Go bark somewhere else, you nameless clown.” He said, turning around to leave.

“We aren't done talking.”

“That’s enough, kid!” Crawford interjected. “Go check on your friend.”

Phillip noticed Evangeline at the edge of the platform. Sneering, he glanced back at Max and retorted, “What’re you going to do? Cry to the little girl’s mommy? Take Mr. Crawford’s advice and get lost before I decide to roast you alive.”

Crawford shook his head in disdain, knowing that the Academy would eventually punish Phillip for his atrocious behavior. Instead, he frowned as he focused more of his attention on Max. Beneath that even-tempered expression, Crawford instinctively sensed a deeply concealed bloodlust.

Until that last taunt, Max had still been weighing his options. Letting his temper get the better of him, Max quickly came to what felt like the best possible conclusion. He cast aside his hesitation and switched to attack mode in an instant.

“Shit! Boy, stop!” A second too late, Crawford reacted with a shout as he realized Max’s intentions.

The sudden yell caught Phillip’s attention. He immediately cursed. Having expended most of his mental energy during his match with Amy, he knew that he wasn’t fit enough to counter Max’s strike. With no way out, he began to cast a spell and raised his staff to block the attack in the hopes of buying the time he needed.

Max pushed his speed to the limit. If Crawford caught up, he would lose his best chance to teach Phillip a lesson. As he came within striking range, a young man with shabby hair appeared right in his path.

“Out of the way!” Max angrily yelled, disregarding the mysterious youth’s identity and unleashing a power packed punch. The young man took the hit head on. With a cross arm block, he managed to negate most of the force, but still pushed back by a few steps.

That slight moment was enough for Crawford. He firmly held onto Max’s shoulder and ordered, “Follow me off the stage this instant!”

Seemingly unfazed by Max’s glare, August smiled and advised with a hint of nonchalance. “Listen to Winfield. Don’t do anything you might regret.”