This was Ashenvale. Their city. Their turf. Not Moonvale's.
Marcus Ward had heard enough.
He stepped onto the arena floor before anyone else could move, card already in hand, fury written across his face in capital letters.
"Get off my stage."
Inferno Knight materialized in a column of fire, and before Declan Ross's Land Croc could so much as hiss, a blazing lance punched through its armored hide like a hot nail through butter. The croc went airborne, flames eating through its scales, and dissolved into light particles before it hit the ground.
"YES!" The Ashenvale side erupted. "See that? That's what we're about!"
"Interesting." A new voice from the Moonvale side. Declan stepped down, and the student who replaced him was licking his lips with the lazy confidence of a predator who'd just spotted something amusing. "Four-Star Legacy Inferno Knight, huh? Not bad."
Levi Sharpe sauntered into the arena like he owned it.
"Same card, sure. But mine's a higher breed than yours." He raised his own card, and the temperature in the arena spiked. A second Inferno Knight appeared beside him, wreathed in flames, identical in design to Marcus's but visibly larger. The heat it radiated was denser, more oppressive. "...whose Inferno Knight is stronger? Yours, or mine?"
Marcus's expression went stone-cold.
A mirror match. The one scenario every Card Master dreaded. When both sides fielded the same Card Spirit, there was nowhere to hide. No type advantages, no tactical mismatches. Just a raw, naked comparison of who'd built the better card.
And by extension, whose talent was greater.
"Sure, they're both Inferno Knights," Levi continued, grinning. "But quality makes all the difference. Want to find out which of us built the better one?"
His card charged without waiting for a response.
"Go!" Marcus wasn't about to let the provocation slide. Both Inferno Knights collided center-arena, and the impact sent a shockwave of fire in every direction. Flames roared ceiling-high, turning the battlefield into a furnace.
"Who do you think wins?" Hailey had moved to stand beside Luke. Her eyes never left the fight, tracking every exchange. "If Marcus goes down, I'm next."
She'd already read the situation. Moonvale had baited them from the start. The opening match with Declan was a throwaway, designed to draw out Ashenvale's strongest fighters early. It was a textbook provocation strategy, and they'd walked right into it.
Or rather, they'd been pushed into it. That was the gap between two cities. Moonvale controlled the tempo without even trying.
"Marcus loses." Luke's answer was immediate. "His Inferno Knight is a step behind."
Commander Realm came with enhanced sensory perception. What Luke could feel, watching the two Inferno Knights trade blows, was that Levi's card was fractionally faster and hit fractionally harder on every single exchange. The individual differences were tiny. Barely visible. But they were consistent, and in a mirror match, consistency compounded.
Give it time, and Marcus would be ground down.
It played out exactly as Luke predicted. The gap widened with every exchange. Marcus's Inferno Knight started taking more hits than it landed, started losing position, started retreating instead of pressing. The momentum shifted, then broke.
Levi's Inferno Knight caught Marcus's in a Flame Tornado that detonated point-blank. Marcus's knight shattered.
"My Inferno Knight... lost?" Marcus stood frozen. The bond to his Card Spirit had gone silent, the knight returned to its card in forced sleep. Defeated by its own signature technique.
Against the Wood Spirit Vine, losing had been acceptable. Level gap. Power difference. Fair.
But this? Same card. Same tier. Different quality. Levi's Inferno Knight was Collectible. Marcus's was Legacy. One tier apart, and it had been enough.
This wasn't a loss of strategy or matchup. This was a verdict on his talent.
"Naturally, our boy Levi's Inferno Knight takes it. Surprised?"
"Marcus's Inferno Knight might be Legacy, but Levi's is Collectible quality. Same star level, but that one tier of quality is the difference between potential and real potential."
"So..." Levi turned back toward the Ashenvale side, threw Marcus's earlier words back with interest, and let a smirk curl across his face. "This is your level? Who's next?"
He was arrogant by nature. Against anyone weaker, Levi Sharpe didn't know the meaning of restraint.
"Unbelievable! This is too much!" The Ashenvale students were furious, but Marcus had been their best non-Luke fighter. Nobody else would fare any better.
Up on the observation platform, the three principals frowned in unison. The match had confirmed what they already suspected. Same card, different quality. The gap wasn't just in the cards. It was in the talent that built them.
Moonvale held the top three for a reason.
Beside Victor Ashford, Helena Frost watched with the detached calm of someone who'd already decided the outcome. Edwin Pace, however, was all smiles.
"Levi's always been competitive. In Moonvale, he's constantly trying to claw his way to first place. Shame his temperament holds him back. He caps out around fifth." Edwin sighed theatrically. "I apologize if he was rude. I'll have a word with him when we get back."
"Oh, I'm sure you will." Townsend's smile didn't reach his eyes. Brandt's expression was even less friendly.
This man is climbing right over our heads and calling it a view.
"Luck, luck." Edwin waved a hand. The smugness wasn't even trying to hide. "Our students this year are especially motivated. Last year's seniors set a high bar, and this group wants to clear it."
Then he turned to the principals, and the jovial mask thinned just enough to show the blade underneath.
"Since we're having such a lovely time, how about we make it more interesting? A little wager between colleagues?"
From the beginning, Edwin Pace hadn't taken this exchange seriously. Moonvale had just finished stomping Sunridge City, a city slightly stronger than Ashenvale. Everyone's momentum was sky-high. In his assessment, Ashenvale wasn't even a speed bump on Moonvale's road to sweeping all twelve cities.
A pebble. Not even a proper obstacle.
The three Ashenvale principals exchanged glances. Of course. Edwin's true colors, right on schedule.
Years of dealing with this man had taught them exactly what to expect. But losing was one thing. Losing face was another. They could accept a defeat on the field. They could not accept walking away from a challenge.
"What kind of bet?" Harlow's voice was even.
Their biggest advantage was still standing quietly in the back of the Ashenvale lineup, hands in his pockets, looking mildly bored.
Luke Mercer hadn't fought yet.
Edwin's little scheme might not go the way he expected.
PLz Throw Powerstones.