The Grand Arena of Babel Academy was a coliseum built to glorify violence under the guise of education. It was a massive oval structure, open to the sky, with tiered seating that could hold the entire student body and faculty. The floor of the arena was enchanted; it could shift from desert sand to dense forest to swamp mud at the whim of the instructors.
Today, the seats were packed. The atmosphere was electric. This was the First Practical Exam for the freshmen. It was the day hierarchies were established. The day the Nobles proved their bloodline superiority, and the Commoners were reminded of their place as cannon fodder.
I stood in the waiting tunnel with Zane. The air smelled of damp stone and nervous sweat. Zane was calm. Unnaturally so. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, listening to the white noise I was feeding him through the Ring of Whispers. On his back, the massive slab of black iron—the Iron-Breaker—was strapped with new leather harnesses. It looked ridiculous on anyone else. On him, it looked like a limb.
"Nervous?" I asked, checking the straps of my boots.
Zane opened one eye. "Hungry."
"Save it for the exam," I said. "Remember the plan. We don't just win. We perform."
A voice amplified by magic boomed through the tunnel. "NEXT GROUP: BLOCK D. COMMONER DIVISION."
"That's us," I said. "Showtime."
We walked out into the sunlight. The roar of the crowd was a physical wave. Thousands of students were watching. In the VIP box, the Headmaster sat like a statue. Beside him was the Hero, Kaelen Valorius, looking interested. And at the announcer's podium, smiling like a viper, was Professor Vex.
He was the Proctor for today. Of course he was.
The arena floor had been transformed. It wasn't a dueling platform. It was a Ruined Cityscape. Broken stone walls, overturned pillars, and fog. Lots of fog. It was a terrain designed for ambushes.
Vex's voice slithered through the magical amplifiers. "Welcome, students. Today's exam is not a simple duel. A mage must be prepared for the unknown." He looked down at us from his high perch. His eyes locked onto mine. "Your objective is simple: Survive the scenario. Defeat the threat. You have ten minutes."
He raised his hand. "Scenario: The Hunter's Ground."
He snapped his fingers. From the far side of the ruined arena, a massive gate creaked open. A collective gasp went through the crowd.
Usually, freshmen fought wooden golems. Or maybe a captured wolf. What stepped out of the darkness was neither.
It was a Chimera-Beast. Specifically, a Venom-Stalker. It had the body of a large jaguar, scales like obsidian armor, and a tail that ended in a scorpion's stinger. Its eyes glowed with predatory intelligence. It was a C-Rank monster. A beast that usually required a full squad of second-year students to handle. Putting two first-year commoners against it wasn't a test. It was an execution.
"C-Rank?" someone whispered in the stands. "Are they trying to kill them?" "Vex is crazy."
Vex ignored the murmurs. He smiled at me. 'Die,' his expression said. 'Or run and be expelled for cowardice.'
The beast hissed. It smelled fresh meat. It crouched, its obsidian scales blending perfectly into the shadows of the ruins. [Start!]
The bell rang.
"Zane!" I shouted. "Pattern Delta!"
Zane didn't hesitate. He didn't charge blindly like he used to. He reached over his shoulder and gripped the handle of the Iron-Breaker. GRIND. The sound of heavy metal dragging against the stone floor echoed through the silent arena. He took a defensive stance, planting his feet wide. He became a wall.
The Venom-Stalker lunged. It was fast. A blur of black scales. It didn't attack Zane directly. It circled, using the ruined pillars as cover, trying to flank us to get to me—the "squishy mage."
It leaped from behind a broken wall, aiming for my throat. I didn't move. I didn't even flinch. Because I knew the radius of my tank.
WHOOSH. A massive black blur intercepted the beast mid-air. Zane swung the Iron-Breaker like a baseball bat. The flat of the blade hit the Stalker's ribs. CRACK. The beast was swatted out of the air, crashing into a stone pillar, shattering it.
The crowd went silent. They had just watched a human overpower a monster in raw strength.
"It's fast," Zane grunted, stepping back to cover me. "And its scales are hard. The sword didn't cut."
"It's an armored type," I analyzed, my eyes tracking the beast as it recovered, shaking its head. "Don't try to cut it. Break it. Blunt force trauma."
The Stalker roared, angry now. Its tail twitched. THWIP. It fired a volley of poison spikes from its tail. A dozen deadly needles rained down on us.
"Shield!" I ordered.
Zane spun the massive sword in front of him. The sheer width of the blade acted as a physical shield. The spikes pinged harmlessly off the black iron. But one spike flew past him, aimed right at my head.
I raised my hand. I didn't use a shield spell. I didn't have enough mana for a barrier strong enough to stop a C-Rank projectile. Instead, I used [Mirage - Displacement]. I created a small visual distortion around my head. To the beast (and the audience), I was standing two inches to the left. The spike whizzed past my ear, missing by a hair's breadth, but to the onlookers, it looked like it passed through my skull.
Gasps of horror from the stands. Then, I "flickered" back into existence, unharmed. "Missed," I said calmly.
Vex slammed his fist onto the podium railing. He muttered an incantation under his breath. I felt it immediately. A surge of mana flowed from the podium down to the arena floor. He was cheating. He was casting a buff on the monster. [Feral Rage].
The Stalker's eyes turned blood-red. Its muscles bulged, tearing its own skin. It grew 20% larger. Its speed doubled. "Oh, come on," I muttered. "That's just petty."
The beast vanished. It was moving too fast for the naked eye now. It was bouncing off the walls, a ricocheting bullet of claws and venom. Zane was turning his head frantically. He couldn't track it. "I can't see it!" Zane yelled. "The noise... it's too fast!"
The Ring of Whispers couldn't filter the sonic boom of a C-Rank beast in frenzy mode. Zane was getting overwhelmed. If he lost focus, he would revert to the Mad Dog. Or worse, he would die.
I needed to slow the beast down. I couldn't hit it. It was too fast. But every beast relies on its senses. And senses can be lied to.
"Zane!" I shouted. "Close your eyes! Swing at 3 o'clock on my mark!"
"What?"
"DO IT!"
Zane squeezed his eyes shut. He trusted me. He planted his feet and raised the sword.
I turned to face the empty air at our 3 o'clock. The beast wasn't there yet. It was at 9 o'clock, circling behind us. But I knew where it would be. It was calculating a blind-spot attack.
I channeled every ounce of my mana into a single, concentrated illusion. [Skill: Mirage - The Alpha Call]
I created a sound. Not a visual. A sound. Right in front of the beast's path, I projected the roar of an Apex Predator—a Dragon. It was a bluff. A ghostly sound. But for a beast, a Dragon's roar triggers a primal, biological freeze response.
ROAAAAAR!
The sound ripped through the arena (audible only to the beast due to my targeted projection). The Venom-Stalker flinched mid-leap. Its instinct screamed DANGER. It hesitated for a split second, its momentum faltering as it landed on a pillar at our 3 o'clock position.
"NOW!" I screamed.
Zane didn't need to see. He exploded with kinetic energy. He swung the Iron-Breaker with a horizontal slash that carried the weight of an avalanche.
The beast tried to jump. Too late. The heavy iron blade caught the monster mid-air. There was no cutting. Just the sound of crushing bone and wet impact. SPLAT.
The Venom-Stalker was launched across the arena like a ragdoll. It smashed into the outer wall with such force that the stone cracked. It slid down the wall, a broken heap of scales and limbs. It twitched once, then went still.
Silence. Absolute, stunned silence.
Zane stood there, panting, his sword still extended. He opened his eyes. "Did I get it?"
"You got it," I said, wiping a drop of sweat from my forehead.
The crowd erupted. Not polite applause. Shocked shouting. "Did you see that power?" "How did they know where it was?" "That Commoner... he's a monster."
I looked up at the podium. Vex was pale. He looked like he had swallowed a lemon. He had cheated. He had buffed the monster. And we had still crushed it in under three minutes.
Vex cleared his throat, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "The... the threat is neutralized."
He paused, looking for a way to fail us. "However," Vex sneered, pointing at the cracked arena wall where the beast had impacted. "Excessive force was used. You damaged Academy infrastructure. That shows a lack of control. A mage must be precise."
He picked up his quill. "Grade: C-Minus. For reckless conduct."
The crowd murmured. It was unfair. Everyone knew it. Zane growled, taking a step forward. He wanted to throw the sword at Vex. I held up a hand. 'Wait.'
"Professor Vex!"
A voice cut through the air from the VIP box. Headmaster Aldus stood up. He was an ancient wizard with a beard like white smoke. But it wasn't him who spoke. It was the man beside him. Kaelen Valorius.
Kaelen leaned over the railing, looking down at Vex. "Professor," Kaelen said, his voice polite but firm. "With respect, I believe you are mistaken."
Vex froze. "M-Mr. Valorius?"
"I was watching closely," Kaelen continued, his charismatic smile dazzling the crowd. "That beast entered a Frenzied State midway through the fight. A highly unusual occurrence for a summoned creature. It became significantly more dangerous."
Kaelen looked at me. He nodded. "These two students adapted to a sudden spike in difficulty. They used teamwork. One defended, one directed. And the strike was perfectly timed to neutralize a lethal threat. Calling it 'reckless' insults the skill displayed."
Kaelen turned to the Headmaster. "I would rate it an A-Plus. Wouldn't you, Headmaster?"
Headmaster Aldus stroked his beard. He looked at Vex, then at Kaelen, then at the cheering students. "Indeed," the Headmaster rumbled. "It was an exemplary display of combat synergy. The damage to the wall is... acceptable collateral."
He looked at Vex. "Professor Vex. Adjust the grade."
Vex looked like he was about to stroke out. His veins were popping in his forehead. He had been overruled. Publicly. By a student (even if it was the Hero) and the Headmaster. He scribbled furiously on his parchment. "Grade... A," Vex choked out. "Dismissed."
Zane looked at me, confused. "The Golden Boy helped us again."
I watched Kaelen up in the box. He was waving to the crowd, soaking in the adoration. He had just played the benevolent leader, the champion of fairness. He gained popularity points by helping the underdogs. It was a transactional act, even if he didn't realize it.
"He didn't help us," I said coldly, sheathing my hands in my pockets. "He just used us to look good."
I turned to walk back to the tunnel. "Let's go, Zane. We got the A. And we sent a message."
"What message?"
I looked back at the arena floor, where the cleanup crew was scraping the remains of the C-Rank beast off the wall. "That we don't need magic to kill monsters. We just need a big enough hammer."
The Locker Room
We were packing our gear. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by the dull ache of muscle fatigue. The door opened. Students stopped talking as we walked out. Before, they looked at us with pity or disgust. Now, they looked at us with fear. Ignis, the red-haired noble boy Zane had humiliated before, flinched as Zane walked past him.
We stepped out into the hallway. And ran straight into a wall of muscle.
Professor Gorm, the Combat Instructor, was leaning against the wall, waiting for us. He was a giant man, almost as big as Zane, covered in battle scars. He wasn't like Vex. He was a soldier. He looked at Zane. Then at the Iron-Breaker. "Pig-iron and obsidian," Gorm grunted. "Heavy."
Zane stiffened. "It works."
Gorm nodded slowly. "It does. You have good instincts, kid. You fight like a wild animal, but you listen like a soldier." He turned his gaze to me. His eyes were sharp. He wasn't a mage, but he had seen enough war to recognize a strategist. "And you. The skinny one."
"Aren, sir."
"Aren," Gorm chewed on a toothpick. "I saw what you did. The beast flinched before the strike. You did something to it. Something Vex didn't catch."
I kept my face neutral. "I just shouted, sir."
Gorm chuckled. A low, gravelly sound. "Right. You shouted." He pushed off the wall. "Vex is a snake. He'll try to bite you again. Watch your back."
He started to walk away, then stopped. "By the way. The School Tournament is in two months. Usually, first-years just watch. But after that display..." He grinned. "...I might put your names in the hat. Don't die before then."
He left.
Zane looked at me. "Tournament?"
I let out a long sigh. "Great. More fighting. More eyes on us."
But inside, my mind was racing. The Tournament. In the novel, that was the event where the main plot really kicked off. Where the Demon Worshippers made their first public move. And where the Hidden Vault beneath the arena became accessible for exactly one hour.
I touched the ring on my finger. We had the muscle. We had the reputation. Now we had a deadline. Two months to prepare for a heist that would happen in the middle of a stadium full of people.
"We need more than a sword, Zane," I said, walking down the hall. "We need a logistics expert. We need someone who can move things without being seen."