Cervito 5
Cherbito happened every May as usual, but this year it was even more intense. Despite being the semifinals, the heat and cheers rivaled the finals.
The seventeen-year-old genius mage who had surpassed the Great Sage Laiyel Ruerg. And the unknown boy recommended by Schult Markersy—their performances were more than enough to captivate the crowd.
"They still haven't started? Even for semifinals, this is dragging on too long."
"Who's in the first match???"
"That 5th Circle mage and the guy who uses ice magic well."
"More like the second match..."
"Licht Sientia."
"Yeah. The boy who ended every match in one strike. So the finals will be him against that 5th Circle girl?"
"Probably? But she's the defending champion from last year, so one-shotting her might be tough."
People chattered on with their predictions for the outcomes. Not just one or two, but everyone there.
A merchant with a large bundle on his back wandered between the spectator seats. With entertainment like this, people's pockets opened easily—perfect for selling snacks. The count's side didn't bother stopping them either.
"Will Count Fredericksen really come?"
"No way he'd send his daughter alone. He'll probably show up during the matches."
"This is a rare event, isn't it? The Fredericksen family attending the semifinals."
A few kept talking nonstop, occasionally glancing up at the VIP seats. Foreign dignitaries, renowned nobles, and elders from major academies sat as usual, but there was one difference.
"Dain!"
A little girl with twin tails called out to her guard as she scampered around the center.
She looked about seven. Her hair, catching the sunlight, shimmered rose gold with a subtle pink hue. She wore a light pink dress that flared from the shoulders, radiating a lively, fresh vibe.
No one stopped her as she darted through the VIP seats. That alone hinted at her status. Some even smiled warmly, as if watching a granddaughter or little sister at play.
The guard called Dain spoke up.
"Lady Seriel. Running around like that is unbecoming."
"Me?"
"Please come sit quietly."
"But the match hasn't started! Everyone's here, and they're dragging it out!"
"It'll start soon. So..."
Dain fumbled awkwardly. Then an aged voice cut in.
"Calm down, now. Patience brings the sweetest rewards, after all. Though they are dragging it a bit."
"Schult!"
The girl beamed and rushed to the old man who had spoken.
His hair and long beard were stark white. Dain let out a long sigh.
Schult said, "It's been a while."
"Didn't we meet just a month ago?"
"Exactly why it's been a while. You're still so stiff. No wonder you're not popular."
"......"
Dain, a mage with a knight-like honed physique, went silent like a mute before Schult.
"Schult, you think so too, right? They're dragging it too much!"
"Hoho, yes indeed. You're absolutely right, Princess."
Schult soothed Seriel like an old friend. No one objected to their casual exchange. Unlike his eccentric reputation, he had deep ties to the Fredericksen family—practically grandfather and granddaughter.
The girl tugged at Schult's trouser hem, shaking it.
"Where's Grandpa Jer?"
"The council head won't be attending, it seems."
"You're lying again! He said he'd come last time."
"He's always busy, so we must understand."
"Ughhh."
She puffed her cheeks in anger, but to others, it was utterly adorable.
"Please cool down now."
"...Will your disciple be in the first match, Schult?"
"Yes."
"And the second is your recommender, right?"
"Indeed."
"What if they fight in the finals and your disciple loses?"
A piercing question. Suddenly, every gaze in the VIP seats turned to Schult.
But the white-haired archmage just chuckled, unconcerned.
"You're under a big misconception, Princess."
Schult looked down at Seriel.
"Won't it hurt if your recommender causes your disciple to lose?"
"Why would I lose out?"
"...Huh?"
The girl tilted her head. Schult continued.
"I wrote that boy's recommendation letter myself. And once Cherbito ends, I'll personally teach him space magic."
A few elders' eyes widened at the bold statement. Schult ignored them.
"Officially, no—but he's practically my disciple already. So I lose nothing either way. The real pity is the other elders' disciples who got eliminated without testing those two."
Kekekeke.
Schult's laughter echoed through the VIP seats. As other elders struggled to keep straight faces, a low voice from the amplifier announced:
[Thank you for waiting.]
[Cherbito semifinals, first match. Aila Pavria vs. Vito Berni. Please come to the arena.]
No sooner had the announcer finished than two mages emerged from opposite doors. Roaring cheers and chants for each filled the air.
"Woooaaah!"
"Finally starting."
"Silver-haired girl! Crush 'em!"
"Vito! If you lose again this year, your master won't even think of coming back!"
Aila had more supporters, but Vito had his share—mostly contrarian bettors and Byrneck Academy mages.
Amid the noise, some murmured curiously.
"Both using wands instead of staves?"
The boy and girl each gripped slender wands in their right hands. Staves offered more raw power, so it was odd.
Someone answered, "Prioritizing mobility, probably. Staves are cumbersome. That Vito kid's style is slow ice constriction followed by a spear finisher up close."
"What about the girl? She hasn't moved from her spot once so far."
"Hidden trump card? Or maybe staves just don't suit her."
[Five seconds to match start.]
[5, 4...]
The announcer's voice cut through thoughts.
[3, 2...]
The noisy arena fell silent.
[1...!]
Paaang!
A air-ripping sound hit with the start signal.
Ching!
A beat later, something shattered, ice shards floating in the air.
Vito's ice barrier had blocked Aila's chantless wind blade.
"What just... happened?"
"Same style as that black-haired boy!"
"Chantless wind magic?"
"Less power, but he blocked it. He anticipated it."
Crackle.
Ice fragments rained down. Vito grumbled.
"What a pain. You two plotting or something? Suddenly starting with wind..."
He trailed off. The arena floor beneath him sank softly.
Instinct drove him to leap forward.
Shoosh!
"......!"
Vito patted his chest in shock. The softened stone floor had morphed into spikes.
If that hit, at least half my mana shield's gone.
Mana shield already halved at the start—in a 4th vs. 5th Circle mismatch, that was as good as defeat.
No intent to talk. He realized it instantly.
"Playing dirty, huh..."
"......"
Vito muttered. Aila raised her wand silently, aiming again.
Crackling, dozens of ice spears rose behind him.
Whoosh!
Fierce flames overlaid them.
"Attribute fusion!"
"Triple fusion at that!"
VIP elders gasped in shock. Some shot to their feet.
Triple elemental fusion—an advanced feat even for elite 5th Circle mages, unlike prior matches.
Vito's face hardened as Aila's resolve hit him.
Screeech!
Dozens of spears launched with a gesture. Crimson flames danced on razor ice, wind spinning them, embers trailing.
They struck in an instant.
Kabooom!
Deafening blasts erupted everywhere, flames raging. The arena floor crumbled under shockwaves. Black smoke billowed.
The screaming crowd fell silent, awestruck.
"Hah..."
"It's over."
"What the..."
"Is the gap between 4th and 5th Circle this big?"
Murmurs followed. Victory was decided. No mana shield could survive that AOE blast intact.
"Wooow..."
Seriel, watching quietly, sparkled with excitement.
"Schult's disciple won? Amazing!"
Dain beside her stayed silent. Schult smiled faintly at her innocence.
"You really think so?"
"Huh?"
"Watch closely. There..."
Fwoosh!
Smoke cleared instantly across the arena.
A blue-robed boy emerged.
"Ah!"
Seriel gasped.
Frost bloomed with each step.
Crackle!
Cratered floor froze solid.
A long ice spear formed over his hand—over 2 meters, chillingly sharp.
The blue spear shot straight at Aila.
Clang!
Two ices clashed.
"...They really plotted together."
Aila blocked with a blue longsword in her grip—ice magic spear met conjured sword.
Vito's mana shield cracked everywhere. He'd dodged direct hits, trusting it to charge.
Lucky it hadn't shattered. That AOE barrage warranted disqualification.
Vito sneered. "Learned swordplay from Licht? Thought you'd shield."
His mana shield nearly depleted. Aila remained silent.
"Keeping quiet, eh?"
Time to decide.
"Fine, let's see what you've got!"
End it here.
Clang!
Spear and sword parted, then struck again.
Vito's spearmanship rivaled noble house heirs. But Aila held her own.
Clang! Claaang! Kagang!
Haste accelerated her; shields covered gaps. Despite chances to end it, she prolonged, showing off.
Weapons clashed, scattering ice shards like sparkling rain.
"......"
The crowd stared, forgetting to cheer at this sword-and-spear spectacle in a magic tournament.
Captivating enough.
Then Vito's final thrust.
Shatter!
His wrist artifact crumbled to dust.
Aila's sword outsped his spear.
[Vito Berni. Mana shield fully destroyed confirmed.]
Brief silence.
[Winner: Aila Pavria!]
The announcer declared amid roaring cheers.
***
Unlike the crowd's cheers, the VIP seats were hushed. The match's shock lingered.
"Hah..."
Someone sighed. It began the murmurs.
"Swordfight in Cherbito, where they counter each other's magic? Ridiculous!"
One elder grumbled. Brave Academy emblem on his red robe.
"Not against rules," another countered nearby.
"Even so..."
"Elder Lucio, such rigidity!"
"What?"
"Real combat doesn't care. Victory is all. And you're the only one uncomfortable here."
"Elder Ran, done talking?"
A back-row spat over the match. Schult tsked pityingly.
"Princess, ignore them. Tsk tsk. No dignity at all."
Dain eyed Schult incredulously but backed down at a glance.
Seriel asked, "Your disciple advances to finals?"
"As expected."
"Next match is that big bro, right?"
Big bro? Dain's eyes widened. Did I mishear?
Schult paused, then smiled. "Yes. Should be out soon. Barring incidents..."
"Huh? Barring incidents?"
Schult said no more.
Seriel pouted, peering down.
Mages repaired the arena; the boy and girl recovered.
As they headed to waiting rooms:
[Zzzt. Apologies. Voice magic tool malfunction... zzzt!]
Static and panicked announcer.
"What?"
"Wasn't the next match now?"
[Re... zzzt! announcing. Voice tool issue...]
Click. Cut off.
Murmurs spread like wildfire. Crowd, expecting the next, panicked at the glitch.
"Voice tool malfunction?"
VIP seats buzzed too, glancing around. Cherbito, hosted by Elzion's lord Count Fredericksen to honor the Great Sage, was heavily monitored—no unexplainable glitches.
Sharp ones whispered, "No way..."
"Kyaaaah!"
A woman's scream pierced.
Boom! Thud!
Nearly finished repair mages' heads exploded one by one.
A man stood arena-center—unnoticed until now.
"What..."
"Concealment? No, different. Artifact?"
"Didn't sense him at all..."
The man gripped his collar, tossing cloth reflecting surroundings. Shoulder-length deep gold hair, green eyes revealed. He held a longsword with pure white blade.
A hemispherical barrier enveloped the arena below.
Several VIP figures stood.
"Hey."
"......"
Things turning sour, Vito stuck by Aila.
Arena and seats isolated by unknown energy.
"Holy power..."
"What?"
Headless corpses leaked alien energy unlike mana. As Aila frowned, the man raised his white sword.
"Is that... now...?"
"Dodge!"
"Huh...?"
Splat!
Aila shoved Vito. Regaining senses, yellow energy neared.
Too late for shields—it wouldn't hold.
"Ah..."
Involuntary groan. Mages' heads bursting flashed.
Then white sword energy struck her back.
Kaaaaboom!
Blinding light flashed arena-wide with thunderous blast.
Ringing ears, flashing light—everyone squeezed eyes shut.
When sight and hearing returned:
"Licht...?"
Thud.
A boy faced the man.
"......"
Black hair, black eyes. Mercenary garb, not robes—but eye-catching. Refined features evoked nobility.
Cherbito banned cold weapons, so no personal arms. Yet his aura dominated.
Unknowingly, spectators gazed silently at the intruding boy.
VIPs too—even those rallying leaned on rails, alternating stares between man and boy.
Licht thought, I hoped not.
Wished Schult's guess paranoia. Overthinking. Personal bias against the Holy Kingdom?
But it hit true. Incident unfolded.
Artifact. No, ancient relic.
Licht eyed it. The tossed cloth hid presence beyond invisibility.
Glancing, several dead mages. Faster notice could've saved them.
Should've waited in seats, not lounge. Regret hit late—past now.
Silent, the golden-haired man spoke first.
"You..."
"Bryce Edmain."
Icy voice echoed arena.
"Palenia's former Executioner."
"......"
No reply. Licht stepped forward amid bated breaths.
"Hear me."
The boy declared.
"For illegally invading Elzion. For abducting mages. For disturbing their families. For murdering mages this moment. For all those primal sins."
Czzzzt!
Empty air split; a sword hilt emerged.
"Right here."
Licht gripped it tight.
"Atone with death."
Chiiiing!
Clear metal ring pierced silence. Purest white mana surged over golden blade.