Rise Of The Lesser-Blood

Following Mina’s decisive victory, the pace of the Inter-Class Freshman Tournament accelerated rapidly. Match after match blew through the Crimson Arena under the wind-swept sky of the high tower. Thomas watched silently from the back row, tracking the diverse array of high-blood talents that flooded the sand.

Eventually, Lina’s name flickered onto Instructor Cross’s slate board. She was paired against a high-born prodigy carrying a devastating Grade B Combat talent: Fire Knight.

The moment the noble stepped onto the sand, his entire form became encased in a swirling, hyper-dense armor of white-hot embers. Lina, whose Grade D Support talent Healing Touch offered absolutely no offensive capability or high-tier shielding, took one look at the roaring vortex of fire, swallowed hard, and immediately raised her hand to forfeit the match.

She walked back up the stone steps with a pale face, but Ryan and Mina quickly patted her shoulders, validating her choice. In Blackspear Academy, knowing when to retreat from a lethal combat mismatch was its own form of survival.

Finally, the harsh mana-chalk on the blackboard erased the previous names, drawing out the final pairing of the entire preliminary round in bold, glowing blue letters.

[ PRELIMINARY ROUND 1 - FINAL MATCH ]

Ryan (Class 1-A) VS. Baldur (Class 1-C)

The stadium benches erupted into a loud, expectant rumble. Because it was the first day of the tournament, this was the absolute first time anyone from Class 1-A had seen this particular noble in action. The crowd watched with intense curiosity as the two final contenders prepared to reveal their capabilities.

Ryan let out a long, steady breath, slinging his canvas sword bag off his shoulder and drawing his standard iron training blade. The steel hummed faintly as he channeled a thin, razor-sharp layer of compressed wind around the edge his Grade B talent, Gale Edge, springing to life.

”I’m not going down without a fight,” Ryan said, his sharp features tightening with fierce determination. He looked over at Thomas, a grin playing at his lips. ”Wish me luck, Tom.”

”Good luck,” Thomas said quietly, his dark eyes locking onto Ryan with an unshakeable calm. ”Keep calm, I know you got this.”

”Thanks buddy,” Ryan nodded firmly.

He turned and descended the stone steps, his boots crunching purposefully against the sand as he walked fully into the arena. Waiting for him at the center of Sector 1 was Baldur. The High-blood carried himself with an imposing, heavy grace. He held no weapons, but the moment he channeled his mana, his bare arms became completely encrusted in thick, jagged layers of heavy granite armor that pulsed with a deep, muddy brown light.

High above on the elevated platform, Julian leaned forward slightly, his ebony eyes tracking the final match with that same cold, analytical gaze.

Instructor Cross raised his dark starting flag, looking between Ryan’s humming wind blade and Baldur’s massive granite fists.

”Final preliminary match! Begin!” Cross roared, violently dropping the flag.

The moment the starting flag touched the black sand, neither boy rushed blindly into a clash. This was a tactical feel-out process, the opening moves of a high-stakes chess match between wind and stone.

Ryan shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, his iron training blade held tightly in a two-handed guard. The compressed wind of his Gale Edge hummed sharply against the steel, a faint distortion in the air that kicked up tiny, swirling eddies of black dust around his ankles. He began to circle clockwise, keeping his stride light and rhythmic, his eyes locked onto Baldur’s massive chest.

Baldur didn’t shift his stance. He stood squarely at the center of the arena block, his granite-encrusted arms hanging loosely before him like pillars of stone. His muddy brown mana thrummed with a heavy, rhythmic pulse that seemed to vibrate directly through the floor. He didn’t turn to follow Ryan’s circular movements; instead, he simply tilted his head, his narrow eyes tracking the lesser-blood’s path with a patient, unbothered focus.

Whoosh!

Ryan tested the waters first. With a sudden twist of his torso, he executed a rapid, vertical slash through the empty air. The motion compressed his Gale Edge mana, launching a sharp, crescent-shaped arc of whistling wind directly toward Baldur’s torso.

The wind blade cut across the twenty-meter gap in a fraction of a second. Baldur didn’t bother to dodge. He casually raised his left forearm, crossing it over his chest as the pressurized air slammed into his granite armor.

CHING!

The impact sounded like a dagger hitting solid iron. The crescent wind blade managed to carve a clean, shallow line right through the outer layer of the stone armor, spraying a fine mist of granite dust into the wind, but the rock beneath didn’t fracture. The dense earth mana immediately filled the gap, stitching the stone back together in a heartbeat.

”Is that the you lessers can do?” Baldur drawled, his voice deep and gravelly.

With a sudden, sudden snap of his wrist, Baldur flicked his hand toward the sand. Activating the basic manipulation of his Earth Mage talent, three jagged, fist-sized shards of solid rock violently ripped themselves out of the arena floor and shot toward Ryan like cannonballs.

Ryan’s trained focus was non-existent, but his raw wind reflexes were sharp. He vaulted backward, his boots grazing the sand as the first two stone shards whistled past his chest, shattering uselessly against the stone barrier walls behind him. The third shard caught him off guard, angling straight for his thigh. Ryan quickly brought his iron blade down in a sweeping parry.

CLANG!

The impact rattled through Ryan’s wrists, the sheer physical weight of the enchanted rock forcing him to stumble back half a step before his compressed wind dissolved the projectile into dust. He reset his stance immediately, his breathing tightening as he realized just how heavy Baldur’s standard output was.

Up in the back rows, Thomas sat perfectly still, his hands resting on his knees as he observed the trade without lifting a finger. Down on the field, the opening probe was officially over. Both boys had felt the boundaries of each other’s talents, and the real clash was about to ignite.