Chapter 290: Tournament Starts
"If you intended to stay low-key, it seems that’s no longer possible," Lucen remarked, meeting every stare head-on as though daring them to look away.
Adyr had already realized the same thing, though it didn’t bother him.
Becoming a Practitioner was, in itself, a step onto the stage. Even a newly awakened Rank 1 could not remain hidden unless their kingdom and elders deliberately sheltered them from sight, tucking them away in seclusion.
Besides, Adyr had no intention of staying in the shadows. In this world, growth required connections, and connections required visibility. To build alliances, to make others see his potential, and to recognize him as a reliable, formidable partner, he needed the spotlight—at least to a certain degree.
Of course, standing in the light brought its own disadvantages. Envy and hostility would follow; there would always be those who viewed him as a future obstacle and sought to erase him before he could rise—men like Sevrak.
Yet Adyr had already accounted for that. By orchestrating Liora’s subjugation of Collossith, he had positioned himself under the protection of a newly Titled Practitioner.
So long as Liora Virell stood at his side, even her name alone would be enough to deter open attacks and shield him from the most immediate threats.
On the chessboard laid out before him, his pieces were already arranged in a favorable formation.
"Lucen is right." Liora’s tone carried the weight of her own conviction. "You can keep hidden what must remain hidden—but you also need to show what must be shown. In these lands, power rules. And the kind of power that opens the path to a Practitioner’s future is the kind that crushes everything before it."
Her words were as plain as daylight. She was telling him: conceal his bloodline talents but wield everything else without hesitation. Shatter opponents and etch a deep impression into the minds of all who watched, so that later, when someone thought of causing him trouble, they would first think twice.
The greatest example of such an example was Sevrak himself. Even though he was infamous for his hostility, embroiled in constant conflict, and despised by nearly everyone, he still commanded respect. Not a single soul dared cross his path lightly, for all feared the cost of standing against him.
"Don’t hold yourself back," Liora said softly, her voice carrying both warmth and steel. "Take the stage as you wish. As for the consequences..."
Her expression darkened. For a fleeting moment, a pulse of bloodlust seeped from her small frame, warping her presence into something that looked nothing like the Astra Path she followed.
Beneath her, Collossith stirred in answer to its master. The colossal body gave a low, resonant hum that rippled through the air. Vibrations spread outward, shaking the ground and sky alike, sharp cracks ringing through the earth as if the world itself groaned in reply.
The effect was immediate. It was as though a spell had been cast—every gaze from every race that had been fixed sharply upon them faltered, turning away in unison. The unspoken message had been delivered, and it was impossible to ignore.
Even the three Titled Practitioners present, Sevrak among them, averted their eyes. They, too, had heard the message, loud and clear.
When the silence settled, Liora allowed her expression to ease. Seeing that her warning had struck its mark and that the crowd now bent beneath the weight of her presence, she spoke again, her voice low, steady, and brimming with quiet reassurance.
"Let me shoulder the responsibility," she murmured. "And know that I will always have your back."
While witnessing that display of power—and the unspoken authority that came with it—Mirela and the others straightened their backs, pride swelling in their chests. With a single gesture, their leader, Liora, had ignited a fire within them, making them feel the weight of belonging to her side.
Adyr, meanwhile, remained silent, his expression calm and observant. Yet beneath that quiet gaze, he steeled his ambition once more, hardening his resolve to claim power for himself.
As silence settled once more and the allotted thirty minutes drew to a close, movement stirred at the entrance of the colossal white tent. The goatman, Caprion, stepped forward, his hooves striking the ground with a hollow echo.
"Denizens of the Outer Region—and to its sovereigns and guardians, its lords, kings, and protectors—the time has ended. I trust you have completed your preparations," his voice carried with the breeze, reaching every corner of the gathering.
When approving nods appeared on the faces of the leaders, he raised his furred hands high, his long white beard trembling with the motion. "Then allow me to construct the stage that will bear this grand tournament."
At his words, the earth began to quake. Just beyond the expanse before the tent, the ground split open, rumbling as a vast sheet of pure white stone pushed upward.
The surface rose steadily, the solid slab gleaming like marble as it expanded into a massive, perfectly level platform.
"He’s impressive—already a master of his Spark Skill." Liora’s eyes followed the rising structure, her voice calm yet edged with respect.
She recognized the skill immediately: a Spark of the Astra Path, one attuned to earth, capable of shaping and bending stone blocks. Normally, such a skill was defensive in nature, yet here it was being used to summon an arena.
"So he’s Astra Path," Adyr murmured, drawing the same conclusion without appearing surprised. Remembering Caprion’s poor skills in trade and negotiation, it was clear he could never have belonged to the cunning Nether Path or the aggressive, proactive Ignis.
Before the eyes of all, the enormous white platform continued to climb until it stood ten meters tall. Its sheer size and polish made it look like the foundation of some ancient monument, born from the earth itself.
"This stage is built from a material capable of withstanding even high Rank 3 Spark Skills," Caprion announced, lowering his hands and stroking his long beard with satisfaction. "So you, the honored contenders, may fight without fear of breaking it. Show your abilities freely, without restraint."
After a long pause, Caprion admired the rising arena with quiet satisfaction before speaking again.
"Now," his deep voice rolled through the air, "send forth one representative from each race with the list of your teams." His gaze swept over the crowd, his tone heavy with authority. "From this point forward, I will decide the matchups, round after round, until only the top 200 remain."
Acting as referee for the grand event, Caprion’s request left no room for refusal. One by one, elders from every race stepped forward, offering their lists. From the Velari side, Lucen stepped forward and handed in the list, with only one name written on it: Adyr, standing as a one-man team.
Once all lists were gathered, Caprion clasped his hands behind his back. Standing tall, his goat’s head raised high, he cut an imposing figure in his long, smoke-black attire.
Every gaze settled on him, the air thick with anticipation as all awaited his first announcement.
"With everything ready," he declared, "let me call the first to have the honor of opening this grand tournament."
He closed his eyes for a moment, as though reviewing every name in his mind, letting the tension climb. Then, opening them once more, his voice boomed with electrifying energy.
"The first team will be... from the Respected Umbraen Race! Their five-man team—Team 15!"
At once, movement erupted among the Umbraens. From the assembly gathered atop the Black Dragon’s back, five figures broke away, descending swiftly to the arena floor.
Though listed as Team 15—likely denoting their rank within the Umbraen order—their presence commanded attention; each looked formidable, with four Rank 1 Practitioners and one towering Rank 2 at their head.
The strength of the team was obvious not only from their looks but also from their disciplined formation.
At the front stood the Rank 2, a heavily built fighter gripping a round, steel-like shield. Flanking him on either side were two offensive Practitioners, weapons gleaming in their hands.
Behind them, protected at the core of the formation, stood the last 2 members—both supports, their stances steady, their confidence radiating reliability. The formation was built for resilience and force, a carefully constructed balance that spoke of deliberate planning.
Caprion raised his voice once more, letting the moment stretch, tension building like a drumbeat. "And their opponents..." He let the words hang, savoring the anticipation like a seasoned announcer. The silence around grew heavy as all leaned forward, waiting.
Finally, Caprion bared his gleaming white fangs in a smile, his words striking like thunder.
"The Respected Velari Race—with their one-man team... Team 1!"
The announcement tore through the crowd like a shockwave. In an instant, every gaze shifted toward the colossal head of Collossith, where a lone figure stood. Clad in a black uniform, his dark hair slightly disheveled, he looked down at the arena with calm, steady eyes that radiated quiet confidence.
Now it was time for all to see what this mysterious Practitioner was truly capable of.