Magus Supremacy - Chapter 286

Chapter 286: Tournament Day arrives!
Chapter 286

Two days later…

The long-awaited day had finally arrived—the Lunaria Academy Intra-Tournament was here.

Participants had already been whisked away at dawn to a private coliseum, an arena constructed by the academy in a discreet location shared with all students.

Whether you were a fighter or simply a spectator, the coordinates had been released, ensuring no one missed out on the spectacle.

The morning sun was still climbing the sky when Grey stirred from sleep.

A wide yawn escaped his lips as he stretched lazily, eyes still heavy with sleep. He blinked around the quiet room, and then it struck him.

“Oh right… Raze is also participating,” he muttered groggily, rubbing his eyes. “No wonder it’s been unusually quiet around here.”

Still half-asleep, he swung his legs off the bed and stood, joints cracking audibly as he stretched again.

“Damn, I’m exhausted,” Grey sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I trained late into the night again…”

Crack!

His spine popped with another stretch before he shuffled into the bathroom. After several minutes, he stepped back out, brown hair damp and messy. Grabbing a towel, he rubbed it dry while staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“No uniform today, right?” he asked himself rhetorically, tilting his head. “Better to go casual.”

He crossed over to his wardrobe, sliding past rows of neatly folded uniforms and formal robes.

His fingers brushed against different textures—cotton, silk, enchanted linen—until they stopped on one particular outfit. A small grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he pulled it free.

“Perfect,” he murmured.

He slipped into a pair of black pants lined with subtle blue streaks that shimmered faintly under light—loose enough for mobility but sleek in design.

His milky-white shirt, buttoned to the collar, clung to his frame just enough to outline his lean musculature. The casual outfit radiated quiet confidence.

From a nearby rack, he picked a pair of polished black shoes, slid them on, and admired the ensemble one last time in the mirror.

“Subtle. Sharp. Won’t draw too much attention,” he nodded. But then, a doubt crept in. “Still… not wearing the academy’s uniform on a day like this… is that really the right call?”

He scratched his chin, lost in thought.

“Ah, no point overthinking it. I’ll blend in just fine.”

A glance at the clock on the bedside table made his eyes widen. “Crap! Only fifty minutes left until the tournament starts!”

A familiar voice echoed in his head.

“I thought you didn’t want to spectate,” Noir said, dry amusement lacing his tone.

“I didn’t,” Grey replied casually, grabbing his coat. “But my friends asked me to come… I couldn’t say no.”

“Oh? He calls them friends now?” Noir chuckled.

“I always did,” Grey answered simply.

With a gentle push off the ground, he leapt into the air. Wind magic coiled around his figure, smoothing his ascent like invisible wings.

His hands slipped into his pockets, his brown hair flowing with the breeze as he soared toward the horizon.

‘I wonder how far the town with the coliseum is,’ he thought, weaving past flocks of birds with practiced ease.

These events usually saw third-year students dominating. They were not only fan favorites but often wielded domains—a massive advantage over younger students.

‘They’re veterans,’ Grey mused, eyes narrowing. ‘Even second-years struggle against that kind of pressure.’

After twenty minutes of steady flight, he began his descent.

A soft gust of wind carried him downward, kicking up dust as his boots met the earth with practiced grace. His gaze immediately swept across the landscape.

‘Hmm… so this is Velnor.’

The town sprawled across a gentle basin framed by sloping hills. Though not the largest settlement he’d seen, Velnor carried an unmistakable charm—a quiet allure nestled beneath its modest exterior.

Cobblestone streets crisscrossed the town like veins, leading between two-storey buildings crafted from aged stone.

Wooden balconies jutted from the upper levels, adorned with flower pots and fluttering drapes. Vines coiled lazily along the walls, like nature reclaiming the town in slow, gentle steps.

Despite the tranquil atmosphere, an undercurrent of energy pulsed through the air—subtle but present.

The town wasn’t asleep.

It was anticipating.

As Grey walked deeper into Velnor’s heart, the chirping of birds gave way to the murmur of voices. A distant roar of excitement drifted toward him—the sound of a gathering crowd.

Then he saw it.

The coliseum.

Even though it had been described as small, that was an understatement. The structure rose from the earth like a stone titan, oval-shaped and commanding, its white-grey walls etched by age, weather, and magic.

Tall iron gates stood watch at the entrances. Towering stone columns ringed the outer wall like silent guardians. Blue and silver banners bearing Lunaria’s crest flapped high above, catching the wind with pride.

Inside, the scent of dust, sweat, and ancient mana hung thick in the air.

The seating wrapped around the arena in steep tiers, designed so not a single moment of combat would be missed. The battleground itself was a hardened field of stone tiles—cracked, burnt, and scarred from years of brutal duels.

Arcane glyphs faintly glowed along the arena’s edges—defensive enchantments, reinforcement runes, and even faded stains of blood that time hadn’t fully erased.

A transparent magical dome shimmered above the field, likely meant to activate mid-battle to protect the crowd from stray spells and chaos.

The stands were filling rapidly.

And not just with students.

Instructors, townspeople, traveling nobles, merchants, and even parents of participants were present—scattered throughout the stands, many of them chatting excitedly.

This wasn’t just a school tournament.

It was a regional spectacle—a confluence of Lunaria Academy, neighboring towns, and those with stakes in the next generation of mages.

Grey arched a brow as a student walked past him wearing casual attire—not the academy uniform.

“I guess I wasn’t wrong to ditch the uniform,” he smirked, hands still in his pockets.

‘I wonder where the participants are and what is going to happen in this tournament.’ he thought as his eyes swept toward two large stone archways positioned on opposite ends of the arena, divided by a massive central pillar that reached into the sky like a sword driven into the earth.

‘Probably that’s where the participants will enter from,’ he thought, nodding to himself.

He climbed the stairs toward the spectator stands, eyes scanning the arena with a subtle smile.

‘Don’t disappoint me, guys.’