The tournament that marks the first semester end is about to start.

  Three days from now, all the first-year students will prove themselves in one of the most important assessments in Ytrial's history.

  It might sound silly to some that the outcome of a first-year tournament would be held so highly for one's future given the amount of time one still has to improve. Yet, historically, those who do well tend to only get better, and those who don't hit a ceiling much earlier than they would have wished for themselves.

  Usually, while important, most factions do not attend. Sometimes, when a very powerful heir or claimant to a throne is involved, parts of a family might make the trip to witness their scion's victory. But that's far from the norm. In most cases, it is considered an important rite of a passage, yet not important enough to be attended by Kings and Queens.

  Well, until this very year.

  When Queen Matriarch Maelthra stormed Ytrial demanding that the Headmaster deliver his daughter's head on a platter, it caught the attention of the entire world. It's not unwise to think that, because of The Generation of Legends, many would have wanted to spectate to this year's tournament. More people than usual, at the very least. Yet, having the Queen of the greatest Infernal Kingdom appear on the island made many regents scramble to summon their fastest vessels in order to attend.

  Some are only interested in meeting Queen Matriarch Maelthra and, perhaps, establishing a trading agreement with them. Others, instead, like the one man currently exchanging death glares with the woman, came because they don't want one of their competitors become the talk of the entire world.

  “Maelthra, you aged since I last saw you. I heard that your daughter went missing and that you came here because she broke some oath. Would you like some advice on parenting, perhaps?”

  There are two reasons why Queen Matriarch Maelthra is not ripping this man's throat right off. First, in the Academy, that would be war with the Headmaster. Other than shouting at the man, she's not so foolish that she'd actually provoked a conflict with such a terrifying creature. Second, she's not sure she would actually be the one winning if a battle erupted with this individual.

  “King Skaernex,” Queen Matriarch Maelthra pronounces the name as if it was rotten and she was about to vomit from the sole thought of it.

  King Skaernex, the strongest Dragonkin alive--allegedly.

  “I've heard that your son is not becoming a Breaker. Why would I take any of your advice if you can't even keep your own house in order?”

  King Skaernex has black scales and bright red eyes that emit a terrifying aura. He came with a full-entourage and would have attacked this woman immediately if they had met anywhere else. Yet, even at his own level, even after all he achieved, he simply exhales some black flames and nods.

  “I hope we'll get to see your daughter before the end of the tournament. I am eager to see how your own parenting is working out.”

  “I am sure that whether the Young Mistress broke the oath or not,” an old man with a long cane says, walking forward, “there's on reason to be rude.”

  King Skaernex frowns when he sees that old man talking to him, but then, he suddenly recognizes that person and decides not to say anything.

  It's not just the regents, the leaders of countries that came around.

  Never like this time, Ytrial is becoming a receptacle for old experts, random eccentrics, powerful hidden masters, and much more. For the duration of the tournament week, it seems that a host of incredible people has gathered to watch the new promises of the world battle to establish who's the strongest among them.

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  * * *

  In a palace, a greedy Duke is talking to his children.

  Duke Dorian, Jacob's uncle, is admonishing his three children.

  “This is the opportunity of a lifetime,” he says. “If you two win and humiliate Jacob, the succession is ours. Queen Anthea is coming with the entire court to watch you two. I've greased the wheel enough that the ex-Princess Priscilla, your aunt, won't be able to survive if both Jacob and Kai are beaten. Do you two understand?”

  Duke Dorian turns toward his two younger children, the siblings.

  Bastian Valemont, the oldest of the three brothers and a Champion in a different year than Jacob and Kai, just watches from the side, with his arms crossed and hard-to-read expression on his face.

  Cassian Valemont, the strongest of the two twins, a Breaker, nods to his father and bows his head, “it will be done, Father.”

  Marcel Valemont, who got publicly humiliated by Jacob Cloud, who won a bet to shave Marcel's head bald after easily disrupting his shield, harrumphs, “I'll cripple that bastard! Now that I'm so much stronger, he has no chance!”

  Duke Dorian has paid endless amounts of money since they last saw Jacob in order for his two sons to get the best training opportunities they could. He probably tampered with their Karma, but sacrificing a little of their future growth in order to get the crown is nothing. Karma can always be balanced later. It won't matter once they win and take control of the Valemont Family.

  “So, will Princess Priscilla be executed?” Bastian talks slowly and with a measured tone. He is the most intelligent of the three children and Duke Dorian is extremely disappointed that he's not a first-year student. If he had been, he wouldn't have had anything to worry about. Unlike the twins, Bastian has never once disappointed him. His talent is in a class of his own.

  “Your Aunt Priscilla will be executed as long as the crown sees how incompetent her children are. Queen Anthea won't be able to protect her daughter if every other noble clearly sees how she was favored in her exile. She carries too many secrets to be left out of the family.”

  “And,” Bastian Valemont adds, “Queen Anthea loves her daughter more than anybody else, Father. If she's not removed, she'll always remain a threat. Even if you became the first in line for the succession of Queen Anthea, the old schemer would try anything to guarantee that, one day, Princess Priscilla would be able to come back and take her rightful position back.”

  Bastian is using words that had been pronounced, perhaps in a fit of anger, by Queen Anthea herself when she stripped her daughter of all her titles.

  Duke Dorian nods at Bastian.

  Truly, the one meant to become my heir. Not like these two useless idiots.

  Marcel, whose hair are still too short for a noble, has been made much stronger through artificial means. His talent might have been ruined forever by Duke Dorian's doing.

  Yet, Duke Dorian thinks, without my help, he would have suffered the exact same fate. Now, he might really be able to cripple Jacob.

  Yet, the real powerhouse is Cassian.

  Duke Dorian doesn't exactly know what happened during his training. But Cassian's aura has grown by leaps and bounds. He's even stronger than Bastian was at his age.

  But that doesn't mean anything. Bastian was able to grow through adversities from a young age. He built his talent like a true future King--just like me. Cassian might be stronger now than Bastian was at his age, but I'm not sure what will be of him in the future. Bastian has better Karma.

  “Don't worry, Father, I will take care of both Jacob and Kai,” Cassian says with a dark tint to his voice.

  That's going to be Cassian's real job: taking care of Kai. Jacob is not someone they consider a threat. But Kai has been trained by the Valemont Family and he has benefited from all their resources.

  “You must take care of them so that we can kill their entire branch,” Bastian says coldly at Cassian. “You cannot fail Father, Cassian.”

  “I do not intend to,” the stronger twin says. “We'll kill them all and their bitch mother. Everything will be ours. Whatever price we'll have to pay for the win, I'll pay it.”

  * * *

  Liuthkrav is still inside his Master's lab. The procedure needed to absorb Star Metal is taking longer than he would have thought.

  The Mithril Golem looks at Jacob Cloud, his Junior Brother, currently floating, unconscious, inside a vat made of Mithril and filled with Mana-rich fluids, while large syringe-like injectors have pierced Jacob's body all over and are slowly filling him with the Star Metal drops.

  “I hope he'll make it in time for the duel,” the Mithril Golem mutters to himself.