The Golem Mage

The next ten minutes consisted of Vincent and Vladimir toying with her until all of her spell rings were finally broken, and she found herself staring down at two blades pointed at her.

Vincent’s blade was pointed at her neck, while Vladimir’s own was aimed at her lower back, targeting her spinal cord.

With both of them locking her into a sure-kill position and all her protective spell rings destroyed, she had no choice but to diffuse her energy blade, as it integrated into her right hand like a spirit equipment would, though it didn’t leave a glowing tattoo before disappearing.

Her hand simply flared blue for a second after it merged, then the light faded completely.

“The winner of this round is the Battle Mage Academy,” the referee announced as he reappeared at the middle of the battle stage, and the cheers outside the stadium erupted louder than ever.

It was so loud that Alec and his group, who were waiting at their designated tunnel, could feel the ground tremble beneath them.

Though they weren’t the ones who won, many other Northern Kingdom academy mages found themselves silently celebrating.

Some clenched their fists; others joined the cheers, after hearing for so long how the other kingdoms’ academies looked down on them and called the Northern academies weak.

It didn’t help that opponents had been trying to defeat the Northern academies in under three minutes, the disdain stung, and all they could do was grit their teeth in frustration until now, as they hadn’t gotten a win until the Battle Mage Academy.

—

Outside, across the four viewing axis, the citizens of the capital finally found the strength and voice to push back against those who had been baiting them all this while.

“What are you blokes shouting for? Only one academy has won out of the previous five battles,” said a dark-skinned man standing among a crowd of Southern mages who’d come to support Ember Citadel and Ashmaw Academy.

However, as soon as he spoke to the capital’s citizens, all the Northerners present rallied to defend their academies.

“Those who just lost were caught off guard, it doesn’t reflect the full strength of all the Northern academies, you all just witnessed what one of our top schools can do, so better expect more of that in the rounds to come,” one Northern mage argued, blindly defending the teams that had lost while insisting their losing run would end now that the Battle Mage Academy had won.

“Dream on. I can tell you with certainty: there’s no way Ashmaw Academy is losing.” The Southerners’ confidence and tone shocked the Northerners, even though they held the numbers.

“Who’s fighting Ashmaw Academy again?” The top mages leading the banter against the Southerners huddled together with some of his peers, with their heads bowed, as one of them whispered.

“I think it’s the War God Mage Academy,” another murmured.

“War God Mage Academy? Good—that should be our second win,” the first mage told his friends.

“They’re the real champions of the last inter-academy competition; the Southerners don’t know, which is why they’re underestimating them.”

However, another quickly cut in.

“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since the last tournament, and we don’t really know if War God Mage Academy has improved. Remember, their usual powerstone supply was cut off by the king.”

“And there’s also the fact they were basically a one-man team back then, with that support gone, it seems their captain, Alec Gordons, hasn’t made much progress, since in the first round only the likes of Lucas Blade and Pale Zero showed up for them and in the second round his golem carried him, if the golem is retrained he is done for,” another chipped in.

“What do you expect? Of course they’ll still grow in strength if Alec doesn’t; they have the backing of an Ancient clan. , so let’s not talk big this time as it’s too uncertain, or it’ll come back to bite us in the ass,” another said, turning toward the Southerners, who wore smug looks that all but said the next North academy was going down.

“I don’t care who comes next, just know the Ashmaw Academy has only faced top academies from other regions, and now that they’re up against a no-name academy that’s lost its prestige, this will end in under three minutes, just don’t run when we rub it in your face,” the lead Southerner taunted, with his crew laughing loudly behind him.

And it wasn’t only the Southerners reveling in their misfortujne just because they’re the rival kingdom of the Northern Kingdom; but the Central, East, and West mages also joined in to shame the Northern citizens who wanted to swing momentum back with just one win.

With supporters from all four kingdoms forming a temporary alliance, they quickly drowned out the Northern mages’ voices, which couldn’t compare in number.

–

“Finally, after that long break, it’s time for the next match, join me in welcoming the sixth-round bout between the Ashmaw Academy Team and the War God Mage Academy Team,” the judge announced from the center of the arena as the outside cheers rolled in.

For the first time, all four other kingdoms’ supporters united to boo a Northern academy, not because they really hated the northern team participating, but because they disliked how the Northern fans had grown cocky after a single win out of five.

So they decided to stamp out that arrogance. Unfortunately, Alec’s group just happened to be the ones facing that wall of noise.

“From the right side, I present the Ashmaw Academy Team, led by their captain, Zuberi Afolayan, and vice-captain, Imara Sefu.”

“The rest of the team: Zuberi Osei, Amani Kuto, Kwesi Adun, Zanele Moro, Omar Taye, Kioni Adeola, Nuri Sefu, and Zuberi Makeda.” The judge began calling their names, giving Ashmaw the cue to emerge from the tunnel.

And the first thing the crowd saw as they walked out was the glow, faint ember-red lines pulsing slowly across their dark battlecoats as the Ashmaw team stepped out of the entrance tunnel.

The sleeveless charcoal coats clung tightly to their upper bodies, showing the carved outlines of their muscles, each coat split along the sides so the fabric swayed with their strides like moving shadows touched by fire.

Scarlet sashes hung from their hips, brushing against obsidian-black combat pants that stretched smoothly over powerful legs that seemed to be built for sprinting, leaping, and fighting like beasts.

Their boots hit the ground with a dull, heavy thud, as the claw-gripped soles bite into the arena floor with every step they took.

Each of them carried a beast mantle over their shoulder, the most telling mark of who they were.

Zuberi Afolayan led them, with his mantle split between ash-lion fur and storm-charged elk hide, making him look like a tribal war-chief walking.

The coat on his back glowed brighter than the rest, matching the molten ring around his amber eyes.

Behind him, Imara’s panther-hide mantle shifted with each move, the dark fur blending into the faint shadow aura around her.

Tendai’s shoulders were heavy with the thick, plated hide of an Ironhide Rhinox, the mantle resting across his massive frame looking like natural armor.

Amani’s feathered Ash Hawk mantle fluttered lightly each time she breathed, glowing faint orange under the tunnel lights.

Their arms were bare from shoulder to elbow, wrapped only at the wrists with runic bracers or clawed gauntlets.

Muscles coiled under dark skin, with every step they made their ember markings flare brighter, like sparks building toward a wildfire.

The belts around their waists rattled softly with charms, beast teeth, and totem slots.

The weapons at their sides — sickles, axes, chain whips, spearheads, glinted with orange reflections as they finally stepped into the open.

And on each chest, over their hearts, the Ashmaw Academy emblem glowed like a heated, a lion skull with wings of ash, pulsing in unison with their breaths.

As they walked forward shoulder-to-shoulder, they didn’t look like an academy team, rather they looked more like a tribe marching into battle, every one of them seemingly carrying the heat, pride, and fury of the Southern Kingdom on their bodies.