After a brief pause to emphasise the rule, Edgar continued.
"We'll proceed with seven pairs of duels to give the spectators a chance to watch most of them. You'll conduct the loser's duel in succession. No one wants to miss the rise of the two last heroes who'll go against their fate!"
The crowd cheered, excited by the Academy of Summoning dean's charisma.
Meanwhile, Shepard snorted, a scowl of disgust creasing his brows.
"If they knew what you used to summon in your younger days, they would never cheer for you, pervert."
Noticing Edgar almost choked on his saliva and glared at him, lips twitching in suppressed anger, he whistled an innocent tune and returned to his comfortable chair.
"Anyway, my disciple will win. Bring out your best items if you believe yours have a chance."
Legs crossed in a relaxed posture, he smirked at his peers.
If arrogance was a terrible flaw before becoming the strongest, it was also an insidious weapon he enjoyed using to provoke them.
"Ha! The boy who almost lost against Thom? Wait for him to meet my champion."
Aurora retorted, brows twitching in annoyance. Despite their close relationship, developed in the heated, deadly battle against the evil ghost king, she found it troublesome to guess his true intentions.
Maya chimed in, baring her teeth like an angry kitten.
"My disciple is the best, Shepy. Count your giblets and pray he does not cross her before the finals!"
"Humph. Luck smiled upon him way too much already. He'll lose today."
Moira's elegant voice resounded as she smiled. Yet, he noticed her neck veins throbbing under her oversized necklace.
Meanwhile, Edgar glared at them, a vicious smile stretching his lips as he leaned on his chair. No matter what their disciples did, the first place was his. The second and third, too. Therefore, no words were needed.
"Keep dreaming, fools."
The mutter escaped his lips, caught by the sharp Shepard.
But he didn't care. Even if he had planned some dirty tricks or gifted a few tier-four cards, he believed in Adam. Ever since they met, this uncommon ghost kept surprising him, breaking every common-sense preconception he had. Was it blind trust? Maybe... but wasn't it one of humanity's traits?
He chuckled at the idea. When did he last care for someone much weaker than him?
Carried by the wind, his mutter reached Adam's ear, making his lips curl into a grin.
"I'll show you I can be the best duelist."
"You'd better. I'm watching you, boy."
Thurin's voice echoed by him. Without warning, the dwarf seized his hand and dragged him to the drawing box.
"Listen well. Don't panic too much in your first duel. If you lose, you lose, no big deal since you'll have an additional chance to qualify."
'You seem more panicked than me, though,' he thought, a wry smile hiding the amused grin threatening to stretch.
The sweat glistening on Thurin's forehead, occasionally dripping on his wide beard, and the nervous tapping of his feet made for a surreal scene.
'I'm the one duelling, not you.'
He shook his head, promising not to let anxiousness get the better of him.
With a nod of approval, Thurin continued, his brown eyes narrowing.
"If you win this match, I'll lend you the grimoire Shiro used to learn tier-three force spells. Don't cut me off and listen."
He frowned, his mouth hanging open, the rebuttal about to escape stuck in his itching throat.
"You messed up during our fight and used your water affinity. I know it's not the only one you're hiding and won't speak about it. Instead, share the method to reach the fifth tier with me. I can't let Vikram beat me to it!"
A pensive frown creased his brows as his leather gloves covered his chin.
'Is he testing the waters?'
Thurin had no proof of his elemental mastery. Even if he sang above every roof that he could wield water, wind, and lightning, then what? It'll undeniably draw unwanted attention, but nothing unmanageable. On the other hand, accepting the offer would confirm his suspicions.
"We can talk about it later. But teacher, you don't have to let your imagination run wild if you need the method. We can negotiate like gentlemen and leave wild suspicions out of the deal."
Eyes narrowed, he gazed at Thurin, who almost leapt in shock.
"No, no. You misunderstood. Far from me the idea of using that against you. I only wanted to explain why I wanted to lend you that grimoire."
Briefly nodding at the more reasonable approach, he continued, using ambiguous language and a detached tone not to reveal anything.
"I trust you. I'm focusing on learning spells and language under Shepard's recommendation. So, that grimoire might interest me as a reference."
"I have it with me. You can take it."
Thurin's eyes sparkled.
The next second, he handed him a dark-covered grimoire. The yellowed pages and the scent of dust filled his nostrils as he grabbed it.
In awe of its old look and the intricate nebulas reliefs on the cover, he couldn't help but ask.
"Where did you find it?"
"It's an old heirloom from my family branch. The only thing we got from our ancestors after we became alchemists."
Intrigued, he pressed on.
"Do you know your ancestor's name?"
"Hmm. That's centuries-old knowledge. Let me try to remember for a few minutes."
Thurin crossed his arms over his chest, his right-hand finger tapping on his forehead as he fell in deep contemplation.
Instead of waiting, he retrieved a piece of paper.
Mana danced around his fingertips as he wrote his advancement method and shared his insight on mana control. Yet, unlike his previous document, he didn't write his name as the author.
After waiting for fifteen minutes and watching the first pair of duels end, a number condescended before him, signalling that his turn to compete had arrived.
Yet, Thurin still pondered, his face twitching as he waged a fierce battle against time to remember.
"Forget about the name. It's not that important."
He shrugged, taking determined steps to his duel desk.
However, he faltered, almost stumbling, as Thurin's apologetic voice resounded behind.
"I can't remember his name, but I think he came from the Runeweaver family."