Idiot vs. Idiot
Triam Academy had one peculiar spot passed down through the ages: the Colosseum.
What they called the Colosseum was less a grand arena and more an underground fighting pit crafted deep beneath the academy by hot-blooded students slathering it with spatial magic and barriers.
It started as a place for sparring matches, but over time, as more and more students sought it out for duels forbidden by the academy's emphasis on peace and harmony, the Colosseum became a venue dedicated solely to settling scores with steel.
"Woooaaah──────!"
And once again, the Colosseum thrummed with the roaring cheers of spectators gathered to watch a duel that had kicked off right at the start of the semester.
From the broadcast booth overlooking the stands—and the arena below—second-year Reddin Hiar snatched up a magic stone mic infused with an amplification spell.
"Welcome, everyone, to the Colosseum! I'm Reddin Hiar, your play-by-play caster for this duel!"
"And I'm Lime Birdsong, handling commentary."
After Reddin wrapped his intro to thunderous applause from the crowd, Lime—another second-year seated beside him—leaned into her own magic stone mic and introduced herself. The audience erupted once more.
These two booth veterans had called countless duels, drawing fans who showed up just to hear them. They were that popular.
"Looking forward to a great show as always, Lime."
"You too."
With introductions done, Reddin pressed on with the duel rundown.
"What an unbelievable day this is! Why? Because in academy history, no one's ever dueled on their first day! But today... that record shatters!"
He bellowed into the mic like it might crack, voice climbing to fever pitch, stoking the crowd's frenzy to its peak. Then, thrusting an arm out, he pointed dead center at the two figures in the arena.
"All because of those two students standing in the arena!"
Lerven and Evan—that pair.
The two at the heart of every gaze wore equally rotten expressions, but the crowd couldn't tell if it stemmed from nerves or something else.
"Anyone who saw today's entrance ceremony will know their names! Evan Aste, who scored second on the academy entrance exam! And Lerven, who took third!"
Like the spectators, Reddin only knew the basics—no deep dive into their beef or backstory. He just did his job: amp the hype and call it straight.
"Evan! Evan! Evan!"
Once Reddin named them, the stands thundered with Evan's name. She'd issued the challenge, and her looks won her fans easy.
"Smash that lunatic!"
No cheers for Lerven, though. He'd spat insults at royalty and tanked his own exam on purpose—a total nutjob. Plus, a commoner with no family name outshining nobles? That only fueled the aristocrats' disdain.
"Whoa, the crowd's on fire from the jump! Evan's cheers are skyrocketing, while Lerven's getting buried deeper than this Colosseum!"
"A guy who pissed off Dracapolis, dueling the girl who challenged him. No surprise where the cheers land."
Reddin and Lime clocked the vibe, framing it as villain versus righteous judge. That angle hooked everyone and cranked the reactions.
After Lime's crisp take, Reddin grabbed the mic again.
"Spot on. Evan Aste threw down the gauntlet. Freshmen barely know this place exists, let alone use it—and she's dead set on making Lerven pay for his rudeness?"
"We'll find out once it starts."
"Exactly! All truths come out under the Colosseum lights!"
Trading lines with Lime, Reddin eyed the duo below. They faced off, talking—but oddly, challenger Evan looked like she was on the back foot with Lerven. Whatever they were saying, letting the crowd stew on it too long wouldn't fly.
"Alright! Both seem set, so let's kick off the duel!"
"Woooaaah──────!!!"
Reddin cranked his voice to max, declaring the start. From the booth, there was no backing out now—even mid-chat.
"......"
The deafening roar drowned their talk. Lerven shot a glare at the booth, frowning. Reddin dodged the look, chugging water to prep for the call.
Not out of fear, of course.
Amid the nonstop cheers, Lerven—glaring murderously at the booth—let out a deep sigh before turning to Evan, who'd shrunk even smaller.
The second they entered the Colosseum, Lerven got hit with cheers and boos. Flustered, he'd demanded answers from Evan.
Her shrinking explanation: She'd KO'd him (judging him the villain), rushed here to challenge him, then forgot all about it while chatting post-wakeup. Hence this mess.
Lerven sighed harder at yet another raw deal. Evan shriveled further under guilt for her irreversible screw-up.
"Just to check—can we forfeit?"
"We could... but your rep would tank even worse right now..."
"That's a problem. What about faking it?"
"If we'd rehearsed a combo, maybe... but otherwise, they'd spot it."
Every dodge Lerven brainstormed carried massive risk—all tied straight to his already trashed rep. Pick one, and it'd be game over.
"Guess that leaves going all-out... You okay with that, Evan?"
"This is all my fault... Whatever happens, I won't blame you."
No choice now but full-throttle clash and end it somehow. Lerven steeled for a near-death bout with an unwanted foe. Evan braced to own the fallout.
Resolutions set, they locked eyes, wills igniting.
Clatch.
Lerven drew mace and new shield from his belt. Jeers rang out behind him—"Coward hiding behind a shield!"—but he ignored them clean.
Swish.
Evan rolled up her sleeves, kicked off shoes and socks. Dropping into a forward-leaning stance, arms extended, she drew gasps from the crowd—and a shout from Reddin.
Triam Academy's world was classic sword-and-sorcery fantasy. In a land crawling with monsters slicing mountains like tofu and mages erasing nations with a flick, how many fought bare-handed?
Reddin and the crowd's awe stemmed from that. A girl who'd aced into the empire's top academy on raw body arts—what heights could she reach?
"...This hype's kinda heavy."
Evan, though, just looked awkward under the spotlight. Martial arts were just one tool in her kit—not her main gig.
Truth was, she'd gone fists-up as self-imposed penalty for her blunder. (She'd also forgotten decent weapons, but she convinced herself the guilt was the real driver.)
"...Ready?"
Lerven, who'd waited through her prep, asked despite a chill of dread creeping up his spine.
"Yep. All set."
Evan nodded firmly. No weapons, but body primed and raring.
Whish.
She glanced at Reddin's booth—full commitment signal.
He caught it loud and clear.
At last, the bell tolled for the fight no one wanted.