This third phase, like the previous two, required every participant to wear a Distress Pendant. Magic Bees would live?broadcast each match so students from other academies could watch through Magic Mirrors.

  The teams from Valhorn Academy and Stone Academy were called first. They put on their pendants and entered the junior division arena from the south and north gates respectively.

  There was no time limit. A referee would end a bout only when one side’s mana was spent or the fighters were too injured to strike back.

  Luo Wei and her teammates sat on the curved tiers, eyes on the arena below. Seven or eight minutes in, she let out a huge yawn.

  Valhorn and Stone—like most noble academies—were staunch adherents of Magic Purism.

  They believed only those who released spells by chanting Spellchants counted as “Mages.” All other magic professions were inferior and shouldn’t be classified with Mages.

  So their rosters held only Spellchant apprentices, and their tactics came in exactly one flavor: long?range bombardment.

  The two teams stood on opposite rims of the arena, what felt like a thousand miles between them. They raised their wands, chanted long incantations— you throw a fireball, I’ll lob a water sphere—hands waving while their feet might as well have been glued to the ground.

  To them, this was civilized combat: no mussed hair or rumpled robes—proof of a Mage’s elegant nobility.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  To Luo Wei, it had zero spectator value. She was bored enough to nap.

  No wonder Siria Magic Academy ranked near the top every year. Sparring with these beauty?obsessed fools was absolutely no pressure.

  They looked so fragile a single fart might gas them unconscious. Luo Wei even suspected that if she pocketed a few stink bugs before going on, she could achieve the same effect.

  The match dragged past twenty minutes. It ended when Valhorn’s mana ran dry and they voluntarily conceded. Stone Academy advanced.

  “Next match: Syasla Academy versus Bude Academy!”

  “Third match: Gardlamon Academy versus Toya Academy.”

  “Fourth match…”

  Six pairings passed without hearing Siria or St. Teno. The five members of Siria’s junior squad felt their hearts climb higher into their throats.

  Only twelve shards remained. The fewer left, the higher the chance of drawing St. Teno.

  Luo Wei had prepared for the worst, but people always cling to a sliver of luck. She refused to believe hers could actually be that rotten.

  The bouts below stayed mind?numbingly dull, but her teammates were edging into agitation. Even Gladys—who’d been softly snoring—woke, fingers tightening on her sword hilt, brow furrowed.

  At last, after two more pairings, a junior division professor called their team.

  “Ninth match: Siria Magic Academy versus—”

  All five held their breath, hearts in their throats.

  “—Tapeka Academy!”

  Siria Magic Academy versus Tapeka Academy.

  “Whew—”

  They all exhaled in a long collective breath, tension easing out of shoulders.

  Tapeka ranked sixth among the ten academies. Tough, yes—but far less daunting than St. Teno Divine College.

  That the two teams met now only meant Tapeka was unlucky—first match and they’d run straight into a pack of lunatics.

  Seeing relaxed smiles spread across her teammates’ faces, Luo Wei warned sternly, “Arrogance gets you beaten. Underestimating the enemy is taboo. Tapeka’s combat strength isn’t much below ours. If we slack off, we’re the ones who lose.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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