Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

After a short speech by Magus Mario, it was now finally time for the Final Trial to begin.

Both Almansour and Mario stepped on a circular platform that was enchanted with the Rank 4: flight spell. Instead of occupying the bleachers and commenting on the duels from there, they would be standing atop this moving platform, getting the best view of the matches.

The two commentators stood tall on the floating platform. A hush fell over the crowd once again as Almansour raised his hand, his voice—amplified by mana—resonating through every tier of the colossal stadium.

”Sixty-two Magi remain…” he began, ”and today they stand not against the unknown, but against one another.”

A flare of light erupted in the air above him, forming into a massive illusory board, hovering high above the field, inscribed with the names of contestants that glowed in magical gold.

”One-on-one matchups,” said Mario, pacing slowly, ”designed by fate, chance, and fortune’s own hand. Skill will be tested, resolve will be broken, and only the strongest… the most adaptable… will endure.”

As he spoke, the illusion above started to shift. The names paired off and slid into brackets, drawing audible gasps and murmurs from the audience.

Dozens of matches flashed before them in pairs, each name carrying its own legacy, its own story. The crowd roared at the possibilities of these matchups.

Will rivalries be rekindled?

Will old friendships collide?

And finally… which dark horse will find themselves thrust into the grand spotlight?

Almansour’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he spoke with theatrical flair, ”Allow me to draw your attention to the first match of the Final Trial. It promises not just power, but poetry. It is a clash of ideals, ancient history, and a stage worthy of a legend!”

He gestured to one of the entrances, to the eastern gates of the arena, and loudly declared, ”From the heart of the ancient wilds, the bearer of nature’s wrath and serenity alike, a proud elf of the Baja High Forest… Elarion!”

A tall, graceful figure stepped onto the grassy field. He was clad in a living armor of bark and silver, emerald eyes glowing softly beneath a circlet of woven leaves.

The crowd gasped in awe as they witnessed the grace and beauty of this proud elf from Baja. And a moment later, they erupted in cheers.

Elarion ignored the reactions of the crowd. A solemn expression shadowed his dashing face as he gazed at the towering western gates, all the way on the other side of the arena.

Unlike the spectators, the remaining participants were already aware of the Magi they would be fighting.

When Elarion learned who he was going up against in the first round, he couldn’t help but curse his misfortune. He knew about this person, after all. Every surviving participant did.

Add to that, Daneli Ambermind had given him a simple word of advice on how to deal with his opponent.

It was one simple word, but it brutally shattered Elarion’s pride.

Forfeit.

That is what Daneli had advised him to do.

Damn that bastard, I’ll show him!

He thought, gnashing his teeth as a dark scowl appeared on his face.

”And standing against him…”

Almansour’s voice rang through the corners of the coliseum once again.

”A free Magus from the rogue faction… Merlin Mathias!”

Compared to the flowery words used for Elarion, the words used by Almansour to introduce Merlin were… quite bland.

It was understandable, though. Even the crowd didn’t show much of a reaction. After all, they didn’t expect much from a rogue Magus anyway.

To them, it was a given that the scion of the great Baja High Forest would win the match.

But they would be wrong… so, so wrong.

An entire minute passed, yet no one stepped inside the arena from the western gates. Almansour’s lips twithced and he introduced once again.

”Magus Merlin, everyone!”

Another minute passed, yet nothing happened.

Two minutes turned to four, four turned to eight, and then eight turned to fifteen.

For fifteen whole minutes, nothing happened!

By now, the faces of the people in the crowd were aghast as they ruthlessly booed Merlin—a man whom they hadn’t ever seen before—for wasting their time.

Almansour displayed the same professional smile, but inside… he was seething with frustration.

Damn this brat! Who the hell does he think he is?!

Magus Mario, on the other hand, had a deadpan expression on his face, his thoughts a mystery.

And somewhere in the crowd, for the seats reserved for the participants, Lisa watched everything unfold with a slightly stunned look on her face.

She couldn’t help but wonder:

Doesn’t all this seem a bit too… familiar?

On the battlefield, Elarion… he was the one with the most fury bubbling inside his heart, however. He had expected a tough fight, but his opponent hadn’t even shown up.

What was Daneli even talking about?! This bastard has no respect for the rules! He thought.

He turned to Almansour, intending to raise the possibility of disqualifying Merlin for arriving late to the tournament.

But right at the moment, the sound of footsteps echoed in the dark corridor leading up to the western entrance of the arena.

And soon… a strange figure appeared before the eyes of the crowd.

It was a young man with coppery-red hair and pale blue eyes. His face was painted stark white, his left eye marked with a blue star, and the right with a green square.

And his lips… they were painted a deep red, stretched almost to his ears in a permanent exaggerated smile.

He wore a flamboyant ensemble that mirrored the clothes of a court jester. It was tailored in mismatched patches of deep violet, white, black, and gold. His shoes were pointed, and his white tunic had a high collar.

His sleeves were wide and ruffled, his black trousers tucked into knee-high boots that gleamed with polished leather and… mischief.

Merlin looked like a walking contradiction, part fool-part menace, impossible to ignore and harder still to forget.

His lips curled into a crazy smile as he glanced at the crowd, then at the two commentators, and finally at his opponent.

The madman took a deep breath and screamed at the top of his lungs:

”People of Acadia, it is an honor for you to meet me!”

A heavy silence descended upon the entire arena, the people in the crowd utterly dumbfounded by the madman’s words.

Merlin, on the other hand, scratched his chin and thought out loud, ”I think that’s how the greeting went… or was it the other way around?”

Then, he straightened his back, turning to the dumbfounded elf on the other side of the field. Merlin grinned from ear to ear and asked innocently:

”Say, little elf, what’re you waiting for? Shall we begin? It’s already quite late, isn’t it?”

Elarion was seething with boundless rage. ”You damend jester… you dare! After making everyone wait for so long… you dare to say those words to me?!”

Only now did the crowd snapped out of their daze and started vehemently booing Merlin. If it wasn’t for the invisbile barrier surroudning the field, the youth would have been drowned in litter by now.

”Oh, my!” Merlin gasped, pretending to be offended. ”Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. I wonder why you’re so angry. Hmm…”

”You bastard!” The more Elarion heard Merlin speak, the angrier he became.

In the end, he glared at Almansour and roared, ”Announce it! Now!”

Almansour glanced at Elarion with a frown. Meanwhile, Mario turned his gaze towards Merlin with a pondering look in his eyes.

A moment later, Almansour returned to his usual self and began, ”Two worlds. Two philosophies. One battlefield.”

The crowd patiently waited to see Elarion dragging Merlin’s clown face through the mud.

Almansour took a deep breath and loudly declared, ”Elarion versus Merlin. Let the third trial… begin!!”

A strong gust of wind blew through the arena, and under the stunned gaze of the spectators, Elarion vanished from his spot like an angry, elusive typhoon.

Then… everything was over in an instant.

Silence fell over the coliseum, heavy and stunned.

And then, breaking through the stillness, came a strange, comical laughter:

”Fafafa!”