The cheers for Viktor Garrick’s devastating victory had barely begun to fade when teams of academy proctors rushed the sands, frantically churning fresh earth over the blast marks and scorched cobblestones to reset the Grand Arena.
The stadium, still buzzing with the adrenaline of the First Level Groups' explosive fights, settled into a low, vibrating hum of anticipation. The morning bloodshed was far from over.
High above the pristine sands, Bruce Doyle’s floating platform drifted back to the absolute center of the arena. He tapped his amplification crystal, the sharp feedback instantly commanding the attention of the thousands of spectators.
"Do not catch your breath yet, folks!"
Bruce bellowed, his magically enhanced voice echoing with theatrical gravity.
"The First Level Groups have set a terrifyingly high bar today! But the training wheels are officially off! We move immediately into the Quarterfinals of the Second Level Groups!"
A deafening, bloodthirsty roar washed over the stadium. These combatants weren't 1st-Circle Novices; they were hardened, seasoned weapons of their respective colleges.
"Let's not waste any time!"
Bruce shouted, throwing his hand toward the massive Scrying Panes suspended in the sky.
"Let the system decide our first clash of this bracket!"
Whir. Whir. Whir.
DING!
Bolgan Hauser.
DING!
Alex Semias.
"Oh, what a brutal opening draw!"
Bruce Doyle hyped, pacing his platform.
"From the southern gate, we have Alex Semias! Known as the Toxic Controller, a 2nd-Circle Glass Vial from the minor College of Alchemy (Statecraft)! He hasn't swung a sword all tournament, folks! He opts instead to slowly choke, melt, and suffocate his opponents into absolute submission! And in the northern gate..."
Bruce paused, letting the silence hang for a dramatic second.
"...the Living Siege Engine! Bolgan Hauser, a Rank-2 Iron Blade of the minor College of Combat (Valor)! He has not blocked a single attack this entire tournament, because he simply walks through them! Let the combatants enter!"
The southern gate opened. Alex Semias stepped out, looking less like a duelist and more like a biohazard cleanup specialist. He wore a specialized half-mask respirator over his face, filtering the air. His heavy leather apron was chemically treated, and strapped across his chest was a thick bandolier of color-coded glass vials. He walked with a methodical, detached pace, his eyes coldly evaluating the arena geometry.
From the northern gate, the earth literally shuddered.
Bolgan Hauser emerged. He was a mountain of extra-thick, reinforced steel plate armor. He didn't carry a sword or a shield. In his massive, gauntleted hands, he dragged the "Breach Block", an oversized, rectangular slab of solid, cold-forged iron attached to a thick steel haft. It was a weapon without an edge; its only purpose was to crush.
But Bolgan didn't walk out alone. Beside the towering giant walked Anita Milich, a Tier-2 Prefect from the College of Statecraft. She didn't wear armor, carrying a clipboard instead. She was Bolgan's handler, his friend, and most importantly to Bolgan's rigid brain, his recognized Commander.
Anita stopped at the edge of the boundary line. She didn't give Bolgan a complex tactical breakdown. She knew exactly how his mind worked.
She raised a perfectly manicured finger and pointed across the arena at the alchemist.
"Bolgan."
Anita said clearly.
"That man in the mask is the target. Walk forward. Smash the target."
Bolgan blinked his small, deeply set eyes. He looked at the masked man, then looked at Anita, and gave a single, heavy nod. The command was received. The literal parameters were set. Anita turned on her heel and calmly walked back into the tunnel.
"Let the match... BEGIN!"
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Bruce roared.
The massive bell tolled.
Alex Semias immediately went to work. Knowing that letting a giant close the distance meant instant death, the alchemist drew a textured green vial of Caustic Sludge from his bandolier and smashed it into the sand twenty feet in front of him. The glass shattered, rapidly expanding into a wide, bubbling moat of highly corrosive, emerald acid.
Without pausing, Alex channeled his volatile poison mana into his Catalyst Gauntlet. He crushed a second vial within the reinforced leather grip and breathed his mana directly into the chemical reaction.
"Nubes Toxica!"
He cast his 2nd-Circle spell: Noxious Cloud.
A massive, twenty-foot dome of sickening, heavy yellow-green fog erupted from his hand, rolling rapidly across the center of the arena and settling directly between him and Bolgan. The toxic mana was so dense it instantly killed the insects in the sand.
Alex stood behind his wall of acid and his dome of poison, waiting. A normal fighter would flank. A normal fighter would try to use wind magic to blow the cloud away.
Bolgan Hauser was not a normal fighter.
Bolgan’s brain processed exactly one thought:
Commander said, walk forward.
Bolgan lowered his massive shoulder and triggered Valorous Charge.
The crowd screamed as the mountain of steel exploded into a terrifying, unnatural sprint, heading in a perfectly straight line directly into the deadly hazard zone.
He hit the Noxious Cloud like a runaway carriage. The thick, suffocating gas filled his lungs. For a normal man, the sheer toxicity would induce violent retching and instant paralysis. But Bolgan's Iron Fortitude and sheer, single-track stubbornness overrode his biology. It burned, but the pain was just an annoyance.
He didn't slow down. He burst through the other side of the yellow-green fog, a terrifying blur of heavy steel.
Alex's eyes went wide behind his respirator mask. Impossible.
Alex thought he was hallucinating as he saw Bolgan’s massive sabatons slam directly into the moat of Caustic Sludge. The acid hissed, aggressively eating away at the outer layers of his steel boots. Bolgan didn't even look down.
Panicking, Alex raised his Catalyst Gauntlet, his fingers frantically weaving a complex thread of barbed, purple poison mana.