Chapter 22: The First Battle

Valen’s face darkened as he glanced at Maller. “What wager? Let’s hear it.”

“You claimed that even our Dorm Four can’t beat those non-seeded contestants. Fine then, let’s make a bet: if Rollin wins two matches in a row and enters the semifinals, you’ll owe me 500 gold coins. If not, I’ll pay you 500 gold coins. How about it?”

Truth be told, Valen’s earlier words were largely driven by jealousy over Rollin being chosen as a seeded contestant, as well as frustration at not making it into the top sixteen himself. Now, facing Maller’s challenge, he hesitated—500 gold coins was no small sum for him.

Though he looked down on Rollin, considering him inferior to their dormmate Tracy, he couldn’t deny that Rollin had once fought Tracy to a draw. Even if Tracy hadn’t gone all out, it was proof enough that Rollin was no pushover.

After pondering for a while, Valen made up his mind and snorted coldly. “Rollin’s not all that, but who’s to say he won’t get lucky and face weaker opponents, winning two rounds by chance? If we’re betting, let’s raise the stakes—if he can win three matches and reach the finals, then I’ll pay you. Do you dare?”

He’d already considered that anyone making it into the top four would be exceptional, the cream of the crop in their class. Even if not quite on Tracy’s level, they’d be close. For Rollin to defeat one of them would be wishful thinking—he might even lose in the very first round if he faces a strong opponent!

Maller answered without hesitation, “Three wins is fine, but the wager should double—1,000 gold coins!”

“One thousand?” Valen hesitated. He was already stretching his finances at 500; 1,000 was more than he could muster on his own.

Maller sneered at his silence. “What’s the matter, scared to bet 1,000? Seems everything you said before was just hot air.”

Mocked in front of so many people, Valen’s anger surged. “Fine, I’ll bet! I’m not afraid. If I can earn 1,000 gold coins without even stepping onto the stage, why wouldn’t I? Worst comes to worst, I can borrow from friends.”

“Heh, with all these witnesses, I’m not worried you’ll go back on your word. The results will be in by the end of the day—we’ll settle up then!” Maller grinned.

“Hmph, I trust you won’t default either!” Valen retorted, not backing down an inch.

Their exchange drew a chorus of voices from the surrounding students, many volunteering as witnesses. Soon, both sides calmed, waiting for the competition to begin.

The academy had no rules against student wagers; in fact, some teachers even joined in. Aside from Maller and Valen, many others made their own bets. This happened every year during the grade competition, adding excitement for those unable to compete themselves and drawing their attention to the matches.

Rollin gave a wry smile. “Boss, you really have faith in me.”

Maller lowered his voice. “Heh, we in Dorm Four know your ability. As long as you don’t get unlucky and draw someone like Tracy, making the finals should be a sure thing!”

Just then, Bill and Gebaz squeezed over. “Boss, count us in on your bet!”

The plump Maller gave Gebaz a playful shove. “Get lost, you’re competing yourself, so don’t try to stir the pot!”

Gebaz glared, hands on his hips, teeth bared. “So what if I’m competing? Don’t I have rights too?”

Their banter was interrupted by a booming voice, “Everyone quiet! The first-year tournament is about to begin!”

Instantly, the hundreds gathered in the plaza fell silent. The voice continued, “Will the sixteen finalists come forward to draw lots and determine your opponents!”

“Hope I don’t draw you…” Gebaz muttered to Rollin as he walked away.

Rollin could only shake his head and smile. It would indeed be unfortunate for dormmates to face each other so soon.

On the table at the front sat a crystal container holding sixteen slips of paper. A teacher gestured for each contestant to draw one.

Rollin unfolded his slip: Number Three.

“Contestants with number one, please proceed to the first ring; the rest, follow in order!” the presiding teacher announced loudly.

At that moment, Gebaz came over, saw Rollin’s number, and grinned. “I’m number five—good, we won’t have to face each other!”

They went off to their respective rings.

Below the stage, the students buzzed with excitement, especially those who had placed bets, anxiously watching the pairings. The seven teachers—of Earth, Fire, Water, Wind, Lightning, Light, and Darkness—stood at the front, their nerves taut as the groupings became clear.

These matches would determine not only the rewards their students would earn, but also how well each teacher’s efforts over the past year had borne fruit. A student’s strong performance reflected well on their mentor.

“Number three!” the host called, and Rollin stepped onto the third ring with a brown-haired boy.

“Wind class—Terry!”

“Fire class—Rollin!”

After exchanging names, a judge at ringside declared the match to begin.

Each ring had a judge, both to decide the outcome and to step in if the duel became dangerous, ensuring safety.

Rollin and his opponent immediately widened the gap between them and began chanting their spells.

“Whoosh!” Terry finished his incantation first; an azure wind blade shot toward Rollin, the swirling gust making Rollin’s clothes snap and billow even while the blade was still over a meter away.

But just as the wind blade was about to strike, a trace of lightning flickered over Rollin’s body. With a swift sidestep, he nimbly dodged the attack.

“A fire class student who’s also trained in lightning magic!” Terry was stunned, bracing himself for Rollin’s counterattack.

Yet Rollin merely moved his lips silently for a while, launching no attack. Terry grew even more cautious, his eyes never leaving his foe.

Suddenly, Terry sensed a fluctuation above his head. “Trying to cast magic from above, are you?” he muttered.

Before he finished speaking, a bolt of lightning crashed down at him from overhead. Terry’s lips curled in a confident smile as a gust of azure wind enveloped him: it was the wind class support spell, Haste.

This support magic, like the lightning speed Rollin had just used, boosted movement speed, their effects nearly equal. With Haste, Terry was confident he could dodge even such a swift lightning strike.

But just as he prepared to leap aside, Rollin’s face twisted into an odd expression. Terry’s heart skipped a beat, but he pressed on with his evasion.

“What’s happening?!” To his horror, even with Haste, he found himself moving slower than usual. The lightning bolt was already upon him!