{Chapter: 106: Rise of the Golden Pair}
Another three months passed like the flicker of a candle flame, and with it came the second round of the grand competition—a continent-wide spectacle that turned young talents into household names and decided the next generation of leaders in magic.
The arena this time was far more crowded. Thousands of students, professors, and political figures gathered under the floating banners of each academy. Floating crystal cameras hovered in the air, capturing the event for projection across magical cities. Cheers filled the sky like a rolling wave, rising with each new battle that played out before the crowd's eyes.
Within that chaos, one quiet voice gave strength where it mattered most.
"You can do it," Charles said with a reassuring smile, clapping Saya's shoulder. His eyes were calm, firm, and bright with belief. "Just trust yourself. You've already surpassed the hardest part."
Saya took a deep breath and nodded, clenching his fists tightly. Gone was the carefree boy who once joked during class. He had changed—hardened by training, sharpened by adversity, and strengthened by a friendship that refused to let him fall behind.
With Charles' encouragement burning like a flame in his chest, Saya entered the dueling ring. A hush fell over the arena. Spells clashed like lightning. Shields shattered, illusions warped the field, and elemental fury danced at his fingertips.
Victory after victory, Saya rose through the ranks—defeating all who stood in his path with a surprising composure that made even the instructors sit up straighter. By the end of the round, his name was etched in the results board with gold ink: Qualified for the World-Level Trials.
When it was announced, Saya's expression remained calm. But when he turned to Charles, the two shared a look—and that moment of understanding between them, that silent high-five of souls, said more than a thousand words ever could.
The golden pair was reunited again.
---
From that day on, Saya and Charles poured themselves into their studies and training at the Silent Heart Academy—an institution known for shaping prodigies and legends alike. The academy had opened its vaults for them, offering access to restricted magical zones, elemental training fields, and the guidance of Wizards whose names echoed through the annals of history.
They trained together, meditated under mana geysers, and challenged simulation golems until their limbs gave out. They practiced not only magic, but philosophy, combat arts, runic theory, the theory of body mind and soul and even statecraft. Their bond only grew deeper through sweat, laughter, and near-death duels.
One evening, as the twin moons of the realm hung over the academy's towers, Saya sat alone in the tower library. His hands trembled slightly as he pressed them together, feeling the hum of mana coursing beneath his skin. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes—now glowing faintly with pure energy.
In that instant, he knew.
He had finally crossed the line.
He had become a true wizard.
Not an apprentice. Not a candidate. But a formal, recognized wizard—one whose soul had undergone refinement, whose mana core had crystallized, and whose very presence could warp the air.
His entire body felt different. Stronger. More attuned to the flow of the world. He could feel the spells etched into his mind like second nature. His senses were sharp enough to hear the pages of books breathing behind him.
All of this—accomplished in mere months when it normally took years.
He stood, walked to the tall mirror at the far side of the room, and looked at himself. The reflection was unmistakably his, but different somehow. His aura radiated a subtle glow, and around his skin shimmered the faintest trace of a translucent energy barrier—a passive radiation layer gained only by official wizards.
Saya placed his palm on the mirror and whispered, "I made it."
But he knew better than to take it for granted. He remembered an old saying from the mortal lands: If one stands on the cusp of the storm, even pigs can fly. The phrasing didn't exist in the wizarding world, but the sentiment remained.
He wasn't naïve. He knew he was one of the lucky few, born into a time of upheaval. The upcoming World War—a magically sanctioned global conflict—would reshape the power dynamics of the realm. And in such times, opportunities rained down like void storms, indiscriminately blessing those bold enough to seize them.
"Perhaps," Saya murmured to himself, "this really is the fairest era in over a hundred thousand years."
He opened his palm and conjured a glowing orb of condensed arcane energy. It floated above his hand obediently.
"If I shine bright enough in the upcoming war… if I make myself impossible to ignore… then maybe…"
Just then, his communicator pulsed softly.
Saya blinked, dispelling the energy orb, and checked the device—a delicate arrangement of crystalline runes bound by silver thread and reinforced with soulstone. It was primitive compared to the tools of a technological civilization, but elegant in its own right.
A message glowed faintly across its surface.
Charles: [Just finished my breakthrough. Finally a real wizard too. How about you?]
Saya smiled and responded.
Saya: [Looks like we leveled up together. Let's keep going, partner.]
The communication device flickered and dimmed. Unlike tech-based devices, magical communicators relied on soul resonance. Weak wizards could only use them within a short range—often shorter than a loud yell. But as one's soul strength grew, so too did the device's range and clarity.
Saya set it aside and returned to training. Though his heart was soaring, he knew he was not yet done.
After being promoted to a formal wizard, a special energy radiation layer will appear on the wizard's body surface. That is their natural defense field, but it is also an extremely dangerous force that can easily hurt innocent passers-by.
Until he could suppress or retract that field at will, the Wizard Council strictly prohibited him from leaving the grounds.
So he stayed and practiced, refining his control hour after hour, until he could whisper a spell without lighting the air on fire.
---
Far from the academy, in a private box above one of the many magical stadiums, a slender figure sat with arms crossed and a sly smirk playing on his lips.
Dex, an eccentric but renowned artist and self-proclaimed "art master," watched the match unfold on the floating projection orb in front of him. The fight displayed two young Wizards—Charles and Saya—trading blows in an odd yet strangely entertaining mock duel.
What baffled Dex wasn't the intensity or precision of their movements—but how oddly familiar their unarmed combat style seemed.
*****
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