The next day.
The Day of the Interclass Spell Precision Tournament.
The Grand Arcane Arena didn't just stand—it breathed.
Its ancient stone tiers pulsed with life, green mana vines snaking through cracks like veins pumping raw magic.
The air thrummed, heavy with enchantment, prickling the skin of every student packed into the coliseum.
Overhead, runic scoreboards flickered, their glowing glyphs casting eerie shadows that danced across the crowd.
On the central field, crystal targets—enchanted discs—hovered and swayed in a conjured wind, their movements erratic, taunting the competitors below.
Vendors lined the arc, their stalls etched with mana that sparked faintly in the sunlight.
"Glowing pendants, only three mana stones!" one bellowed, waving a chain that pulsed blue.
"Sparking candy, pops in your mouth!" another called, tossing a piece that crackled midair.
