The final round of the first phase played out with fierce intensity. Magic clashed in brilliant tangos, a gravity caster folding space to slam his foe into the barrier, an ice student crystallizing a rainstorm mid-air, even a small girl with pollen magic weaving sedative clouds so intricate they immobilized her opponent without a fight. It was chaotic, beautiful, brutal.
Darius watched each duel with growing intensity. He saw classmates he'd spoken with on the quad—smiling friends—trailing from the ring, arms wrapped around each other, limping but determined. Others collapsed quietly as the magical pressure overwhelmed them. A handful couldn't return, their names called as "withdrawn." One by one, they filed out, their faces drawn and distant.
