The Arena was full of life as the students waited in excitement for the tournament to begin.
The hologram that floated just above the arena displayed the names of the upcoming opponents.
[Devon Zuberi, First Year.
Andrew Bellshot, Second Year.]
A wave of murmurs immediately rose among the crowd.
"A first year?"
"Is this a joke?"
"Bellshot’s gonna crush him."
Linda leaned forward, fingers tightening around her snack bag. "They really put Devon up against a second year right away."
Cass looked at the hologram and shook his head, "there isn’t much of an option anyway, it was either a second or third year, since there’s only three first years."
"I see," Linda nodded before digging into her bag and tossing a piece of candy in her mouth.
Cassian, on the other hand, lifted his head towards the VIP section. That was where the noble families gathered, and he was completely sure that the Burns were there.
Their disappointment would only just increase when they saw that he wasn’t going to take part.
But it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice, as much as he had been training with demoness Dawn, even he knew he wasn’t strong enough to match actual combat students just yet.
"Are you okay?" Linda asked, looking at his expression.
"Yeah," Cass snapped out of his thoughts, "I’m fine."
Before anything else could be said, a booming voice interrupted.
"Ladies and gentlemen, students and honored guests," the announcer’s voice came, "welcome to the Academy’s internal combat tournament."
A wave of cheers was heard from the crowd.
"This tournament will determine the six representatives who will stand for our academy in the upcoming inter-Academy trials," the announcer continued.
"As always, matches will be conducted under full safety protocols, Victory will be decided by incapacitation, ring out, or surrender."
The hologram shifted, zooming in on the first matchup.
"For our opening match," the announcer said, his tone lifting slightly, "we have a rather... interesting pairing."
The crowd went silent as the announcer declared.
"From the first year combat division," the announcer declared, "we have a student trained personally by Ascended Dawn herself, and against all odds, survived."
Devon’s name glowed in the holographic display.
"Devon Zuberi."
With that introduction, his loss would directly translate to punishment from the demoness and everyone knew what punishment from her meant.
"And facing him," the announcer’s voice deepened, "from the second year combat division, a consistent performer with multiple recorded victories in academy-sanctioned spars."
Andrew Bellshot’s name appeared a lot brighter on the holographic display.
"Andrew Bellshot."
This time, the response was even louder, there were more cheers, claps and even a few whistles, especially from the second years.
Linda swallowed her candy and said, "they’re really hyping Bellshot."
Cass nodded slightly, "apparently, he’s one of the Bellshot’s greatests combatants among the new generation."
"I see," Linda nodded before turning to Cass, "you researched on them?"
"Hmm," he nodded, "most of what I found was public knowledge though....well, except a few...hidden ones."
Linda raised a brow, immediately understanding how he might’ve gotten those ’hidden’ information.
But she didn’t call him out on that, instead she just asked, "then does that mean Nox and Devon hold an advantage?"
"No," Cass shook his head, a small frown appeared on his face, "although I offered, they declined."
Linda just chuckled at the idea.
Who rejects an obvious advantage? Especially when it didn’t mean that you had to do anything illegal...well, maybe mildly illegal, but this was a tournament.
Advantages were actively sought and gained.
The announcer raised his voice one final time.
"Combatants, please make your entrance."
On opposite ends of the arena, two gates slid open with a hiss.
From the left tunnel, Andrew Bellshot stepped out first.
His posture was upright and controlled, his solar tech, a pair of boots and a gauntlet, was already activated and the system ran checks on them.
He rolled his shoulders as his eyes scanned the crowd before settling on the center of the arena.
The crowd went wild as he walked in, chanting his name,
"Kick his ass, Andrew!"
"Remind the junior that he’s still levels below you."
"Squash the worm!"
"Destroy his ass...wait—"
while the fan girl.... Well,
"I want to have your baby Andrew!"
"Marry me Andrew!"
Let’s just say they were enthusiastic.
Some of the chants had to be hastily drowned out by the arena’s sound dampening system before they crossed several lines all at once.
Andrew didn’t react to any of it.
No, he did react, he was bathing in the glorious change of the crowd... Well, except the few sus ones.
He walked up the platform and stood in waiting for his opponent to emerge.
From the right tunnel, Devon Zuberi emerged.
He let Andrew have his moment before he stepped out, looking as relaxed as possible. He had both hands in his pocket as he strode up the platform.
Of course there were cheers,
"Wipe that fucking smirk of his face, Andrew!"
"Drag his face through the floor, Andrew!"
"Let him call you daddy.... What the fuck is wrong with m—"
But they were all against him, but Devon didn’t mind, his face still held its smile as he stepped up the arena.
"Where’s your solar tech?" Andrew asked with a frown on his face.
Devon took his hands out of this pocket before muttering, "gimme a minute."
The next second, golden light enveloped his hands and when they faded a silver and red gauntlet.
No doubt it looked expensive, because it was.
But Andrew didn’t seem to think the same as he looked at them.
"That’s it?" He muttered with disgust.
For reference, the Gauntlets were around two thousand credits, something a normal family would use for a whole year.
But to Andrew, it was trash.
Devon glanced down at his gauntlet before defending, "Hey, it was on sale."
The announcer’s voice came again, causing the crowd’s excitement to grow, as they waited in anticipation.
Most were completely sure that this match was good as over for the first year, and they couldn’t wait to see how his loss would play out.
"The match begins in three."
Devon rolled his shoulders.
"Two."
Andrew bent slightly, weight shifting forward.
"One."
The barrier enveloped them.
"Begin."