"The winner is Ver—"
The referee's voice cut through the dust—but never finished.
A pebble tumbled.
Then a faint shift.
Eyes locked on the arena floor.
Something moved.
Just a sliver.
The crowd fell silent.
And then—
From within the haze, a silhouette rose.
Logan Smith stood up.
His cloak was torn, his forehead bleeding, dust clinging to his shoulders—but his eyes were calm. Unshaken. Unafraid.
Phew!
"Man, you almost had me. Almost," Logan said with a slight chuckle, brushing some dust from his arm.
Varn's brows twitched.
Is this shrimp mocking me? He barely survived by luck and now dares to grin like that? he fumed inwardly.
A ripple passed through the entire arena.
"What… he's still standing?"
"That kid survived that?!"
In the gallery, Alice let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Ardyn Vex's brows, tightly drawn till now, relaxed as he gave the faintest nod—accompanied by a wide grin that almost looked wicked.
"That damn brat. Almost gave me a heart attack," Ardyn muttered.
Meanwhile, on the same noble balcony, Mirena's face twitched like she'd smelled something foul. And Darius, who had just started to smile, froze mid-expression—like someone had shoved rotten fruit into his mouth.
Gasps turned to murmurs. Murmurs turned to shouts.
"He's alive!"
"No way!"
"He took a direct hit!"
The announcer hesitated. The referee backed away, hand still raised but unsure. A wary smile appeared on his face.
Back in the arena, Varn Drayden stepped forward. His earlier confidence had dimmed.
"So you're still breathing?" he muttered, slight disbelief in his voice. "Fine. But don't get too ahead of yourself. Luck only helps once or twice. Not always."
Logan only offered a polite smile. There was no arrogance in it—only confidence.
Not pride in his strength, but quiet gratitude for it.
It was the same in his past life as well.
He never flaunted his strength—never saw it as something to boast about. To him, power was a responsibility, not a crown.
Varn, however, misread the look as condescension. Rage boiled in his veins. How dare a brat smile at me!
He charged again, fueled not only by magic—but rage as well.
But this time—Logan moved too.
He didn't dodge.
He struck.
Air surged. Lightning crackled along his fingers.
The very air around him shifted as he blurred forward—silent, graceful, lethal.
Varn blocked just in time—but the force of Logan's strike sent him sliding back across the stone.
"What the—"
"He countered?!"
"He's fighting back!"
The gallery erupted. Shock rolled through the arena like a wave.
And then came the real bombshell.
Lightning burst from Logan's palm—followed by a whirlwind blast that knocked Varn's next fire spell into the sky.
First, a gasp.
Then someone murmured:
"Two affinities. Air and Lightning."
Another added:
"At age twelve."
Someone in the balcony stood up. "He's awakened… already?!"
"That's impossible—baptism happens at fourteen!"
From the viewing box, Lord Albrecht clenched the railing, eyes wide.
Marquess Yale frowned deeply. "That brat… he's not normal for sure."
But Lilith Starwind just smiled—slowly, as if she'd known all along.
"So he was really hiding something…"
Rudeous, arms crossed, chuckled softly. "Only two? If they knew he had five…"
The betting corner, which had been bursting with laughter minutes ago, fell into chaos.
The owner nearly fainted, grabbing at his hair. "No one bet on him—no one!"
His assistant whispered, "Do we pay if he wins?"
"Don't say that out loud! He's not winning. He can't—he won't—"
But in the arena, Logan danced like a storm given form.
Wind propelled his steps. Lightning laced his strikes.
He wasn't just keeping up—he was forcing Varn to defend.
"Don't lose heart!" someone yelled from Varn's section. "He's just a kid!"
"No kid moves like that!" another replied.
And yet, most of the gallery echoed the same sentiment:
Logan had earned their respect.
Go kid. Show them what you're made of.
The very crowd, once united in cheering for Varn, now split into two.
"Two affinities… awakened already just at twelve…"
"He may lose, but he's no joke."
"He'll definitely reach the finals next tournament!"
"Could even take the top spot… someday."
Still, the tide hadn't fully turned.
Despite Logan's skill, Varn was a Tier Two with three affinities.
He rallied again—summoning molten spikes from the ground, wind cutters from above, and blasting forward with a layered spell fusion of flame and air.
The arena lit up.
Logan didn't retreat.
The moment froze.
The tension thickened.
Two spells.
Two wills.
Two destinies—
Both their attacks clashed with a deafening roar.
BOOM.
A flash swallowed the stage.
Dust and magic exploded in all directions.
The audience shielded their eyes. Stone shattered.
The sound thundered across the capital.
And then—
Silence.
Nothing could be seen through the swirling dust and magical haze.
Both fighters… gone from view.
The referee froze.
No one spoke.
The crowd stood in stunned silence, all eyes locked on the center.
Who fell?
Who stood?
The dust slowly began to settle—
And the entire capital held its breath.
TO BE CONTINUED…