We witnessed our seniors duke it out, in silence.


    No one among the audience spoke, no, we were too fixated on the match that was unfolding. By the time it was over, the heavy strained breaths of everyone seemed to let loose—heaves of relief spread across the hall.


    Finally, the horrid match of desperation was over.


    Unfortunately, this was only one of the several matches that would unfold—


    Three sses


    Three Years


    Three Departments.


    While the nature of each Battle Royale would be different, we would have to watch, waiting our turn, as ssmates destroyed one another for the right to remain in the fold.


    Why did they try so hard? It was only apetition, after all…


    Of course, the answer was obvious—Apprenticeship.


    If they made an indelible impression on the Lecturers who were scattered about, these students would be able to be personally taught by them. It was a desperate strategy, but the returns made it all worth it.


    Even I had to impress Neron to be taken in as his disciple!


    “Alright, First Years! For the Magic-Users, you should have now understood how the Battle Royale works. Next, let us invite the Third Year Lower ss Martial Arts department, for their round.” us Tallman boomed, driving everyone who was in shock back into reality.


    I gave a wry smile and realized that they were using the Lower ss seniors as scapegoats to start thepetition. I wasn’t too surprised by this fact, yet why did I feel disgusted?


    ‘The prejudice even trails to this contest, uh? It’ll be hard to gain first ce, then…’


    The Third Years stepped onto the stage—those who required weapons for their various fields got to pick from a shelf provided for them before they climbed the tform for battle.


    I saw numerous weapons stocked on the shelf; swords, daggers, spears, etc.


    They were all coated in a ck hue, most likely made of iron or strong wood. Still, sharply observing the tools to be used by focusing my eyes on them, I confirmed that they possessed full edges.


    I assumed it was to ensure none of the Martial Arts students received fatal injuries. After all, unlike Magic, Martial Arts were centrally focused on violence and deprivation of life.


    If proper care wasn’t taken, the Battle Royale was going to turn into a bloodbath!


    “Now, then, are you students ready?” us’ voice boomed.


    I watched the resolute faces of my seniors. They nodded and wielded their weapons respectively, though one decided to use his bare fists.


    They were ten in number, a higher figurepared to the seven Martial Artists we had in our ss. I was curious to see who would emerge victorious in this round.


    “Begin!”


    Immediately us said this, he excused himself from the stage since he already stood at the edge. The students responded by rushing at each other, baring their fangs as they struggled to emerge victorious.


    Some would have most likely been friends, but none of that mattered on the battlefield. With my heightened vision, I saw the swing of the sword sh with the tip of the spear. Sparks flew upon each impact, assuring me that this wasn’t wood, but metal.


    The ngs could be heard loudly thanks to the silence generated by everyone gathered.


    For some time, the ten were at a stalemate, unable topletely overpower one another. However, that all changed the moment they all began a most surprising tactic—’Ganging up!’


    Yes, all of the ten—save one— joined forces and decided to root out the most troublesome among them, the wielder of the spear.


    Having enough reach to strike enemies at a distance, enough length to defend himself from all angles, and the versatility of piercing and shing, any user of the spear was feared for the well-bnced attribute of their weapon.


    Realizing this, they caught the student in a pincer, surrounding him on all ends. Had he been a master, he would have been able to properly adapt to the situation—unfortunately, the spear wielder was just a little more skilled than the others. With nine of them all focusing their attention on him, he stood no chance!


    His face screamed of shock, flustered by the betrayal of those whom he must have expected to stick to a fair fight. Still, the senior clenched his hands on his spear, refusing to give in to the pressure.


    Even though he must have known that his loss was assured, he didn’t back down. Sweat dripped from his face and I followed his gaze as it traveled all around him. Somehow, I felt connected with him and vowed to see his struggle until the bitter end.


    The boy smiled, causing my heart to thump heavily. I smiled in anticipation, cheering him on silently from where I sat. Every other voice, made by the crowd, was lost to me. The battle took all of my attention.


    “Rahhhhh!!!” The spear wielder screamed as he swung his weapon with power, blocking off two attacks on his right nk, unfortunately, this gave room for the others to advance.


    Quickly twisting his body to match their tempo, he sharply turned to deal another strike at the enemies that had advanced, but they were still too much to handle alone. Slowly, yet steadily, they closed their distance, until the reach of his weapon was rendered useless and defeat came crashing down on him.


    He lost terribly, stabbed on all ends by the full des of his former allies.


    My heart bled at the sight for some reason. In my past life, I had seen more dangerous battles and had watched better valiant men fall. Yet, even though the boy wasn’t dead, neither was he half as skilled as those valiant men, I couldn’t help but respect him.


    “You fought well…” My voice trailed.


    I suddenly heard a sniff beside me. Turning my head in its direction, I caught Edward making teary eyes as he too watched the battle.


    “That man… has my respect!” The young Martial Artist said, more tears streaming down his cheeks.


    While I wasn’t a dedicated Martial Artist, I had to agree with Edward’s words. Truly, the spear master did his best!