The tournament finals arrived with unprecedented fanfare. Marcus versus Lyra Brightwind, Bronze Peak versus Bronze High Stage, alchemist versus combat specialist. The arena was beyond capacity, with seven thousand people crammed into every available space.
Marcus stood in the preparation room, focusing on his breathing. This match would be watched by everyone—nobles, merchants, military recruiters, and most importantly, students who would analyze his every technique.
He needed to win convincingly while revealing as little of his true capabilities as possible.
Lyra was already waiting in the arena when Marcus entered, her silver hair braided for combat, her Bronze High Stage aura radiating confidence and anticipation.
"Ready?" she called out as they met at center arena.
"Always."
Headmaster Thornsworth himself served as referee. "Finals of the Bronze Rank Division. Standard rules—first to three points or surrender wins. Begin!"
Lyra attacked immediately, her superior combat training evident in every movement. She'd clearly studied Marcus's previous matches and adapted her strategy accordingly—constant pressure, unpredictable angles, forcing him to defend rather than attack.
Marcus blocked and parried, reading her patterns. She was good. Really good. Better technical skill than any opponent he'd faced.
But she'd never fought someone whose life depended on winning every fight.
Marcus waited for his opening, took a calculated hit to his shoulder that counted as a point to her, then used her moment of victory to close distance and strike her precisely in the solar plexus.
"Point to Aldrich!"
One to one. The crowd roared.
The match continued for nearly ten minutes—far longer than any of Marcus's previous fights. Lyra pushed him harder than anyone else in the tournament, forcing him to actually strategize rather than overwhelm with superior power.
She landed another point with a creative spinning kick that Marcus barely saw coming.
"Point to Brightwind! Two to one!"
Match point for Lyra. One more point and she'd win.
Marcus reassessed. She was faster, more technical, better trained. He couldn't beat her at her own game. He needed to change the rules.
The next exchange, Marcus deliberately took a hit to his leg that didn't quite count as clean contact—it hurt, threw off his balance, but wasn't scored. Lyra, sensing victory, pressed her advantage aggressively.
Marcus had been waiting for that overconfidence. He turned his stumble into a pivot, caught her extended arm mid-strike, and used her momentum to throw her. She crashed to the ground, and his follow-up strike tapped her chest before she could recover.
"Point to Aldrich! Tied at two to two!"
The arena was deafening. Final point would determine the champion.
They both stood, breathing hard. Lyra's expression had shifted from confident to wary—she'd realized Marcus had set up that entire sequence intentionally.
"One more exchange," Lyra said. "Winner takes all. No holding back."
"Agreed."
They charged simultaneously. The final exchange was brutal—both fighters unleashing everything they had. Marcus's raw power versus Lyra's refined technique. Bronze Peak versus Bronze High Stage enhanced with burst magic.
Marcus saw his opportunity when Lyra's enhancement technique fluctuated for a fraction of a second. He struck, a precisely placed hit to her side.
"Point to Aldrich! Winner: Marcus Aldrich, tournament champion!"
The arena exploded with noise. Marcus helped Lyra to her feet.
"Well fought," she said, breathing hard. "You set up that final sequence three moves in advance. That's not luck—that's experience."
"You pushed me harder than anyone else. If you'd been Peak Stage like me, you would have won."
"Maybe." She smiled ruefully. "Congratulations, champion. Don't let the fame go to your head."
The awards ceremony was immediate. Headmaster Thornsworth presented Marcus with a high-grade mana crystal worth 5,000 gold and a championship medallion.
"Marcus Aldrich, Bronze Peak Stage alchemist and tournament champion," Thornsworth announced. "Let this be an example to all students—dedication and skill transcend specialization!"
The crowd cheered. Marcus accepted his prizes, gave a brief wave, and tried to escape as quickly as possible.
He was immediately surrounded by nobles offering recruitment, merchants offering sponsorships, and students asking for autographs. Marcus pushed through them all, heading for the exit.
Professor Blackthorne intercepted him. "Marcus, you should at least be polite. These are valuable connections."
"I have House Thornvale's patronage. I don't need more connections. I need less attention."
"Too late for that. By tomorrow, every noble house in the kingdom will know your name."
That was exactly what Marcus feared. More attention meant more scrutiny meant higher risk of discovery.
He finally escaped to his warehouse base, where he could breathe without people watching.