"FIREBALL!"
"WATER CANNON!"
"LIGHTNING DARTS!"
The arena exploded before the echoes of the first chant had even faded.
The flames streaked across the sky like furious comets. The jets of pressurized water carved through the smoke. The thin arcs of lightning snapped erratically, striking the marble tiles with sharp metallic shrieks. The wind currents twisted together, scattering dust and splintered the stone in chaotic spirals.
For a brief moment, the entire battlefield looked less like a student competition and more like a war rehearsal.
The spectators gasped even though this was only the first round.
Most spells were fire and water. It was quite common for the nobles.
The wind appeared occasionally though it was rarely decisive. The lightning was rarer since it was difficult to stabilize and dangerous to calculate. Many students preferred the certainty over the ambition.
The normal attributes could be purchased through tutors, resources, and persistence, but regarding rare attributes like flare and ice, those belonged to luck.
In this case, Baston who struck the luck became the primary target at the center of arena.
"Take him down first!"
"If we eliminate the ice user, the rest will be easy!"
Several spells immediately converged toward one location, pointing to him who looked lonely without the ally.
Baston did not move and he simply raised one hand before the air around him grew cold.
The ice soon formed in layers. It was thin at first then it began thickening into the jagged translucent shards that rose from the ground and curved inward. Within seconds, a crystalline dome enclosed him completely.
He was like a turtle at the moment, a coward in the eyes of many.
The fire slammed against the surface and hissed into steam. The water splashed and froze upon contact. The lightning fractured harmlessly across the hardened frost. The wind scraped but failed to penetrate.
Inside, Baston stood still and he was breathing evenly while listening.
The outside world blurred into muffled chaos. The shouts, impact, panic, and strategy were collapsing in real time.
He did not need to see it because he only needed to wait.
"Are you going to hide forever?!"
"Come out and fight like a man!"
"You call yourself a wizard?!"
The insults battered the ice more fiercely than spells yet Baston did not respond. His eyes were closed, however, his ears were sharp.
He wasn't here to impress anyone and he wasn't here to win gloriously. He was here for something else since this competition had never been his true objective.
Somewhere within this arena was a thread he needed to pull and such threads did not reveal themselves to reckless players. They revealed themselves to the survivors.
*****
From the VIP balcony, Levan leaned lazily against a velvet armrest. His fingers circled the rim of a wine glass.
He was bored of predicting the outcomes that had already been designated slowly regarding the magic competition.
The fire users were exhausted first, the water users were overextended, the wind users miscalculated their positioning, and the lightning users hesitated too long.
He had seen this pattern in countless competitions across the kingdom.
They all were predictable talent, predictable ambition, and predictable failure.
By then, he noticed the ice dome and he stopped swirling the wine.
"That fat boy…"
His assistant leaned slightly closer, "Yes, my lord?"
"He's not afraid toward his opponent and his way of fight is very efficient. Is he also a noble?"
"Of course not… I heard he awakened his ice attribute when the Great Wizard Angus visited the academy. He's quite fortunate…"
"Fortune doesn't explain that experience..."
Inside the dome, Baston was not trembling. He was not shifting and not preparing for counterattack. He was conserving, he was observing, and he was waiting for inevitability.
Levan's smile deepened, "How interesting..."
Levan did not look away from the arena. Originally, today was meant to be inconvenient.
It was not disastrous and not destructive but just inconvenient enough to disturb the academy's comfortable order. A minor incident could expose certain weaknesses in the academy's management and when such weaknesses appeared, someone always stepped forward to solve them.
Levan had always been very good at solving the sudden problems. It was a simple method that he had used many times before.
He would be creating a small crisis, offering a generous solution, and earning the gratitude in the end.
The reputation was often built upon the carefully managed chaos, but now, his attention lingered on the fat boy who was standing quietly inside the ice dome.
The boy did not panic. He did not rush and he did not even attempt to flee. Instead, he allowed the entire arena to exhaust itself while he remained untouched.
Levan's eyes narrowed slightly since that kind of patience was rare among the students.
Most young wizards burned their strength trying to prove their brilliance. They fought loudly, desperately, and foolishly. However, this one did not do like the others since he endured.
Levan slowly placed the wine glass down on the table.
The small disturbance he had planned before suddenly felt unnecessary. There was more interesting opportunity that had appeared on its own.
If that boy truly possessed both patience and talent, then he might be far more useful than a temporary incident in the arena.
After all, the chaos could be created at any time but capable people were much harder to find.
Levan leaned back comfortably in his seat. Slowly, the original plan quietly dissolved in his mind. Instead, a new idea began forming.
It was the one that involved the fat boy who was standing calmly beneath the rain of spells.
"I'm really curious of him…" Levan murmured softly.
For the first time since the competition began, the match had become entertaining.
*****
Meanwhile, inside the dome, Baston felt the subtle tremor in the ground.
The energy levels were dropping outside and the breathing patterns were changing with slowing down spells.
He did not need to guess to find out the current situation.
The aggressive ones would burn themselves out first and the cautious ones would turn on each other once their common enemy refused to cooperate.
That enemy was him and by refusing to participate, he forced them to fight among themselves.
It was a simple principle. By removing the visible threat, the hidden one thrived. The shouts soon shifted.
"Forget him! Get that water user!"
"Watch your back…!"
The sound of impact, the collapse, and the groans reverberated around until the time passed. The waiting was quite longer before finally, there was only silence.
It was not complete silence but it was the silence of survivors. There were only three people around. Including him, there were four remaining.
Baston slowly opened his eyes.
Through translucent frost, he observed their stance. They were exhausted, defensive, and suspicious toward each other.
Such moment was perfect and he inhaled once before exhaled sharply. The ice dome shattered outward suddenly. It was not done violently and not lethally but decisively.
The ice shards burst forward like blunt hailstones, striking the shoulders, the legs, and the ribs. It was painful enough to destabilize and precise enough to avoid the disqualification.
One participant soon fell before another followed. The last one attempted retaliation but his mana flow faltered.
Baston stepped forward for the first time since the match began. One more shard was launched, making a direct hit to the last target. In the end, no one was able to stand before him.
The referee soon raised his hand, "The winner is Baston!"
The arena quickly erupted in mixed reactions.
Some cheered his cleverness, some booed his passivity, and some simply stared with the unsettled feeling because what they had witnessed was not the raw power. It was the perfect control of the arena.
*****
Back in the lobby, Karte nearly vibrated with excitement.
"Young noble! I knew you'd win! I placed a bet on you!"
Baston's eyelid twitched slightly, "You… What?"
"Just a small one! But the odds were good because many thought you'd be losing!"
Baston forced a faint smile.
He could have made far more but official bets required the identity verification. There would be a need for records and paper trails.
Thankfully, his wealth existed somewhere else, inside something that no one could check. If he suddenly displayed large funds, the questions would arise. Such questions attracted the officials and the officials attracted his debt calculations.
He wasn't ready for that, not yet on his present situation.
*****
"Excuse me... Are you Baston?"
The voice came from behind which was calm and polished.
Baston turned slowly, "Yes?"
"My lord, Sir Levan, wishes to meet you."
Karte inhaled sharply because everyone knew that name. He was the town's savior and the academy's exclusive supplier. He was the man who funded the repairs, donated to the poor, and supported the victims of crime. He was such a humble benefactor.
Baston's heartbeat changed rhythm. It was not faster but sharper.
"I see," Baston replied calmly, "Lead the way."
*****
The VIP corridor was quieter than the public halls.
The carpets absorbed the footsteps and the guards stood subtly. They were not threatening but they assumed their presences.
The door soon opened, revealing the room beyond a private residence more than a viewing chamber.
It had personal bathroom, fine wooden furnishings, the balcony overlooking the arena, and a magical projection screen that was glowing faintly.
Truly, it was a luxury disguised as modesty.
In the meantime, Levan stood near the window with wine glass in hand.
He turned with a warm smile, "Welcome, young boy."
His voice carried no arrogance and only gentleness, "My name is Levan. Please, there is no need for excessive formality."
Baston bowed slightly, "I've heard so much about you, Sir Levan."
"Ah?" Levan chuckled, "I hope that is good things"
"Indeed, it's only full of admiration."
That was not a lie since people really admired him. However, they simply did not know him. Levan soon gestured toward a seat.
"Your fighting strategy today was excellent."
"I just merely survived."
"Ha… ha… ha… Exactly."
Levan's eyes sharpened briefly, "Most students fight to prove something yet you fought to endure and that is rarer."
His posture was relaxed and his expression was sincere, but something behind his gaze did not blink enough like a man that was constantly measuring the angles.
"You called me here for a reason?" Baston asked.
Levan nodded slowly, "I wish to hire you."
The words dropped gently but they echoed loudly.
"I am an exclusive supplier for Prius Academy," Levan continued, "I manage the logistics, the resources, and the protection. Such operations require capable individuals."
"I understand you are still a student so this would be your future arrangement. Upon graduation, you would have guaranteed employment and it will be your generous compensation."
The assistant added softly, "My lord rarely extends such offers personally."
Baston tilted his head slightly, "May I ask… What kind of work?"
"Security…" Levan replied smoothly, "It might consist of the occasional escort missions and the dispute resolution. Sometimes, it could be a quiet interventions."
A quiet interventions was kind of polished phrase to hide its sharp edges. Still, Baston kept his expression neutral.
"You are too kind, Sir Levan. However, I am merely a student."
Levan laughed gently, "You are more than that."
The silence lingered and two players were studying each other. One was smiling and one was observing.
Levan continued casually, "Tell me, Baston… What do you think of this town?"
"It is a peaceful place," Baston answered carefully.
"Peaceful?" Levan repeated with faint amusement, "However, the crime still exists here."
"It always will…"
"True…"
Levan took a sip of wine, "Some problems might require decisive solutions since there was a crime."
"What do you mean by it?"
"I help so many victims around here. Mostly, I donate the money to them."
Their eyes met and there was a brief pause stretched between them.
"What do you think then?" Levan said lightly.
"I am considering whether I am worthy of such trust."
"Worth is proven over time."
"Yes…" Baston agreed softly, "It is…"
Levan smiled wider, "Then, allow me to invest early."
The offer hung in the air like a perfumed smoke and Baston's mind moved quickly.
Should he reject it outright? It would be quite suspicious then.
Should he just accept it immediately? It would prove to be more dangerous then.
It was better to remain uncertain.
"It is such a rare opportunity," Baston said slowly, "May I ask for a time to consider?"
"Of course…" Levan replied instantly, "I admire your caution."
Surely, he did it since the caution was his language.
"I will not pressure you," Levan continued warmly, "But you should know this that your talent attracts many eyes and some are less friendly than mine."
It was a warning disguised as concern or the concern disguised as a warning.
Baston inclined his head, "I appreciate your honesty."
Levan stepped closer, not invading the space, but reducing the distance.
"Should you accept, Baston, you will find that I reward such loyalty generously."
"What if I decline?"
Levan's smile did not fade, "Then you will remain a promising student that I had the pleasure of meeting."
It was such a perfect answer. There was no ego, no threat, and no visible ambition. It looked ordinary yet that was the most dangerous thing about him.
Baston bowed once more, "I will reflect carefully."
"I look forward to your answer."
*****
When Baston exited the VIP room, the corridor felt colder.
Karte quickly rushed toward him, "What did Sir Levan say?!"
"He offered me an employment."
Karte nearly jumped, "That's incredible!"
"Yes," Baston murmured.
It was incredible indeed. As they walked away, Baston resisted the urge to look back.
However, he felt the sensation of being evaluated, measured, and selected. Levan had not approached him out of admiration alone. He approached because he recognized something familiar.
Perhaps, it was his survival instinct.
Perhaps, it was his patience.
Perhaps, it was also his controlled violence.
The two predators recognized each other through glass.
The arena match had been simple. The real competition had just begun and Baston now stood closer to his target than ever before.
He had stepped willingly into the lion's parlor.
The smile behind him remained warm but such warmth did not mean harmless.
Some fires did not burn visibly. They consumed quietly, patiently, and when the time came, they left nothing but ash.