You know what I realized?

  If the school was going to put me in a public, broadcasted gdiatorial match for honor, glory, and the occasional magical injury… then I should, at the very least, get paid for it.

  So yes. Before the finals, I may have slipped into the Academy’s not-so-underground betting ring and—entirely hypothetically—pced a sizable bet on Squad 7 winning. It was purely academic. A confidence-building exercise. Maybe a petty jab at everyone who called us “the squad of emotionally unstable prodigies.”

  “You bet against the golden child of Sarnhild?” the bookie had asked, blinking.

  “I’m betting on chaos,” I said. “And I’m the one holding the matchstick.”

  The Arena: Caged LegendsThe final match wasn’t in the normal field.

  No.

  They moved us to the grand arena. The kind with magical spotlights, enchanted speakers, an audience that could drown out thunder, and a viewing box so opulent I could smell the politics leaking from it.

  There they were—the Emperor, Crown Prince, Kael sitting like he had five migraines, and Princess Sylvaria, in full royal grace. Beside them sat our parents. Yes. All of them. Grimacing in varied degrees of horror and pride.

  “My entire bloodline is watching,” I muttered to Ember, who flicked her tail.

  “Don’t choke,” Eli said as she checked her gloves.

  “If I die, tell my father I want that wand anyway.”

  Opening Ceremony? More Like Death MarchIngrid stepped forward first. Silver-cd, glowing like a divine war idol. Her eyes were calm. Pitying. Like she was about to give a sermon before a righteous beatdown.

  Leonhart stood beside her, sword resting against his shoulder. He looked at us with that charming, noble smile—like he was greeting old friends right before impaling them.

  “So, this is your final stand?” he asked.

  “Final?” I said. “Oh, no. This is where you go from hero to headline casualty.”

  “Bold words,” Ingrid said, tone serene.

  “I’m running a mouth-to-magic conversion system,” I said. “And it’s fully charged.”

  Let the Match BeginThe bell rang.

  Everything exploded.

  Literally.

  Ingrid unched an area-of-effect holy strike before the dust even settled. Gram’s reflexes kicked in—he hurled two defensive potions that created temporary barriers of hardened mist, blocking the searing light.

  “Eli—go!” Rielle shouted.

  And like clockwork, we split.

  Eli: Dance of BdesEli weaved through the battlefield with surgical precision. Two of Dresner’s backup mages locked on her—but she didn’t falter. Her aura core fred, coating her body in rippling energy.

  One step. One fsh.

  Both went down before they realized their necks were grazed.

  “Thank you for the warm-up,” she whispered, not even winded.

  Rielle vs. Leonhart: Csh of ManiacsRielle screamed into her csh with Dresner like she was born for it.

  Steel rang against steel. Aura met aura. Sparks flew with every parry and counter.

  “You’ve improved,” Dresner said.

  “I’ve unshackled,” Rielle answered, grin wild.

  She went low. Then high. Then faked a spin only to knee him in the ribs with aura-coated force. The crowd howled.

  “Rielle Sylwin, attacking like a tempest!” a commentator shouted.

  Her mother? I could hear her screaming:

  “GO REILLE! BE COOL! MAYBE LUCHIEN WILL MARRY YOU LIKE THIS!”

  I almost tripped mid-casting.

  Me vs. Ingrid: Divine DestructionNow, Ingrid and I?

  Ours was less of a duel and more of a philosophical disagreement expressed through explosions.

  She summoned spears of light. I dodged.

  I unleashed Ember, now pulsing with runes from that accursed spellbook.

  She responded with divine shielding. I responded by drinking Gram’s Special Blue Shimmering Liquid of Utter Madness.

  “Lucien just drank something his alchemist made—” the announcer said.

  “Why is the air warping around him?!”

  Because now?

  I was juiced.

  My mana capacity doubled, temporarily.

  Fmes roared around me as Ember synced with my thoughts. I didn’t just cast spells—I conducted them.

  “You wield dark knowledge,” Ingrid said mid-duel.

  “You wield divine judgment,” I replied. “Let’s see which sermon wins.”

  We cshed.

  Holy met unholy. Light collided with chaos. I unched a barrage of fme sigils mid-air, chaining them through Ember’s fire breath into a spiraling inferno that disrupted her rhythm.

  “Luci—what the hell are you doing?!” Gram screamed from the sidelines.

  “Winning!” I shouted, hurling a burning bde of compressed air.

  EndgameDresner finally knocked Rielle back.

  Ingrid brought down a holy nce straight at me.

  And just as they thought they’d regained control—

  Rielle yelled, “NOW!”

  I synchronized with Ember one final time, released the st of my potion-boosted mana, and created a massive burst of spellfire behind Ingrid—shattering her stance.

  Rielle tackled Dresner mid-aura surge.

  Eli finished the st standing enemy.

  And that was it.

  Victory.

  The AftermathThe arena was silent for a heartbeat.

  Then roared.

  Judges stood. Nobles stood. Even Kael’s brow twitched in what I’d call restrained pride.

  “Squad 7 has won!” the announcer cried. “By the gods, they’ve done it!”

  Princess Sylvaria just sipped her tea and murmured, “As expected.”

  Gram high-fived Rielle. Eli simply bowed her head. I stood there, panting, half-conscious—and only able to think one thing.

  I really hope that bet paid off.

  The Emperor leaned toward Kael, eyes on us. “These are your students?”

  “No,” Kael said. “They belong to her.” He nodded toward his daughter.

  She smiled. “And now the world will know it.”