No More Pain For This Villain. - #253 - 253 Arena Overview

[Third Person View.]

It was midday, and the arena, now quiet, bore witness to a series of unexpected events that had become somewhat commonplace. Adam’s opponent conceded the match upon his ascent to the stage, while Helga effortlessly dispatched her adversary with a single strike. These occurrences had rendered the Imperial Academy students acclimated to the unexpected twists that defined the day.

Over the course of the past five hours, a total of eighteen matches had unfolded, showcasing the talents of thirty-six students across all years. However, injuries were prevalent this year, raising concerns among the onlookers. Despite this, the proceedings proceeded smoothly, and the contenders were now whittled down to six students from each year, leaving nine remaining candidates who would soon be narrowed further to the top two.

In a designated row of the arena, the entire staff of the Imperial Academy sat, observing the matches with keen interest. Headmaster Stormborne, in particular, maintained an intense focus, his narrowed gaze unwavering as he monitored every bout, his attention unwavering, almost forgetting to blink at times.

One of the professors stepped forward, announcing the names of the six students from each year who had advanced. Those not chosen were instructed to vacate the arena, relocating to the stands to watch the remaining contests unfold.

Stormborne leaned in slightly, his attention drawn to the first Prince with fiery red hair. The Prince, wielding his spear with practiced ease, ascended the stage while his opponent, armed with a war hammer, joined him in readiness for the impending clash. Stormborne anticipated a formidable display of the Prince’s skills.

Stormborne had been under Falkor’s watchful eye ever since Falco’s departure, a silent directive to keep a close eye on Aron for reasons unbeknownst to him. Orders from Falkor were unchallenged, especially when they concerned Falkor’s son, but this time, the requests were multiple, raising Stormborne’s curiosity.

A month before Falco’s visit to Stormborne’s office, Falkor himself had reached out with an unusual and cryptic demand. Stormborne was tasked with monitoring the elusive trials of the goddess Ellora. These trials were situated in ancient ruins within the Hestia Empire and near the border of the No Man’s Land. There were no additional instructions or information, only a simple order, presumably to ensure Falco’s completion of Falkor’s Elusive trial.

Every god possessed an Elusive trial to pass on their legacy, some with multiple trials, while others had only one. Yet, the critical aspect was the secrecy surrounding these trials; they remained undisclosed to anyone except the chosen heir. While it made sense for Falkor to pass on his legacy to his son, the timing seemed premature. Falco, despite his exceptional talent as a dragon, had not yet spent more than a few thousand years as a god himself.

Nevertheless, Stormborne accepted the task, pledging to assist Falco whenever required, irrespective of the circumstances.

“Aron Velcrow! Won!”

Stormborne’s interest piqued at the swift victory, mere minutes after Aron had entered the ring. He was aware of Aron’s possession of The Simurgh, albeit not its precise whereabouts within the palace. From Stormborne’s perspective as a Cataclysmic Drakenvor, gifting a Simurgh to a human like Aron seemed excessive in various aspects. Although gifted by Falco, it appeared that Falco might have received orders from someone else, possibly Falkor himself. It hinted at significant and clandestine developments among the gods, portending a larger unraveling.

“Adam Stales! Won!”

A faint smile crossed Stormborne’s lips as he applauded the blond youth’s victory. Adam held a special place in Stormborne’s regard, impressing him with an unprecedented blend of intelligence, courage, and strength. The boy’s arrival at the Imperial Academy had left a lasting impression on Stormborne; his singular determination to seek power had resonated deeply.

Thad*

A sense of alertness tingled through Stormborne as the dust settled, revealing the figure he had been cautious about for the past three months.

“Ren Hilton! Won!”

A profound silence fell over the arena, not solely due to the headmaster’s dislike or ambivalence toward Ren, but an overall sense of unease resonated among the spectators. Ren’s actions consistently rubbed everyone the wrong way. There was an uncanny absence of the human scent that enveloped the headmaster daily, a nuance not lost on a dragon like Stormborne.

He did everything to distance himself from the boy – an odd, instinctual repulsion he felt towards Ren. Yet, despite Stormborne’s efforts, Ren became increasingly conspicuous.

At present, Stormborne could easily discern that Ren possessed a Mage’s strength surpassing five stars. How? It was all conjecture surrounding this Hilton boy. He could have effortlessly triumphed in the selections but chose to withdraw, allowing Helga to claim victory. He didn’t dispute his placement in Class B after initially being assigned to Class A. These actions provided Stormborne ample reasons to test him, albeit with an inexplicable urge to suppress him.

“You have an impressive student there, Professor,” Stormborne remarked, turning toward Professor Devereaux seated behind him.

“Oh… Yes, I didn’t realize he had such skills,” she responded awkwardly. Stormborne’s gaze then met Professor Night, seated beside Devereaux. He remembered the heated debate they had about Ren’s demotion, which had resulted in her storming into his cabin seeking explanations. He had dismissed her, insisting she not interfere in his decisions.

“Is something happening there?” Stormborne inquired.

“It appears a student slipped off the stage,” came the reply.

“Erik Weller! Won!”

A dubious yet technically legitimate victory.

“Weller… where does this boy hail from?” Stormborne questioned, observing the nerdy-looking lad scurry off the stage.

“Oh, him… if I recall correctly, he’s a special scholarship student with potential in literature studies,” the professor paused, “And the only noteworthy thing about him is his relation to the Lockner family.”

“Lockner’s…” Stormborne recalled the name of the fallen noble house.

As the selections progressed, only nine students remained across all school years.

Helga Hash, Erik Weller, and Ren Hilton from the first year.

Vexa Velcrow, Adam Stales, and Mary Kleine from the second year.

Isolde Holloway, Peter Perkler, and Aron Velcrow from the third year.

“Now,” Stormborne announced, “I’ll draw chits to match them up.”

He began spinning a bowl full of paper chits in front of him. Two of the same color, indicating the school year, were pulled, and…

“Ren Hilton and Helga Hash!” His voice resounded through the Arena.

Internally, Stormborne knew this matchup spelled nothing but defeat for the academy. Nevertheless, he harbored an unspoken desire to prevent Ren from ascending to a larger stage.