Vol3 Chapter 24 Arena

The next weekday kicked off with the familiar chime of the academy bell ringing through Arianne Academy. Gone was the relaxed weekend vibe; the campus buzzed with energy once more. Students hurried along the stone paths in every direction, crisp uniforms replacing casual wear as lively chatter filled the cool morning air. Amos strolled beside Willow toward the First-Year classroom, holding a yawn.

"I already miss the weekend."

Willow smiled wryly.

"It was quite short isn't."

"Exactly.  Ended far too soon."

"I heard you were looking for a secret book."

"There wasn't one. There should have been."

Willow laughed softly.

"You still haven't given up?"

"I refuse to believe one of the greatest academies on the continent doesn't secretly hide at least one forbidden manual."

"You're reading too many adventure novels."

"I am living in one."

Willow opened her mouth before deciding not to argue with that.

...

Professor Fred entered the classroom precisely as the morning bell rang.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Professor."

He gave a satisfied nod.

"Today will be slightly different."

Several students straightened.

"Our morning lesson has been shortened."

A few hopeful expressions appeared.

"Not because I'm feeling generous."

The hopeful expressions disappeared.

"It is because all first-year students have their first practical combat lesson today."

The classroom became noticeably livelier.

"Follow me."

***

The first-years strolled together across the academy grounds, passing lecture halls, training fields, workshops, gardens, and a handful of buildings Amos hadn’t yet explored. Then, suddenly, a shadow swept over them.

"..."

Amos came to a halt. In front of them loomed a colossal arena, far larger than any training ground he’d ever seen. Tier upon tier of stone seating climbed toward the clouds, enough for tens of thousands to watch. Enchanted pillars ringed the structure, each etched with intricate runes, while high above, floating platforms drifted lazily, likely for professors or honored guests. The central battlefield alone could have swallowed entire villages. Willow turned her head slowly, taking it all in.

"...This is for classes?"

Professor Fred smiled.

"This."

He spread his arms dramatically.

"Is the Grand Arena."

"Arianne Academy's largest combat facility."

"It is capable of hosting academy tournaments, military exercises, monster suppression simulations, and even dragon-class emergency drills."

Several students paled at the last one.

"Dragon?"

"A simulation."

***

As they entered through one of the countless gates, Amos noticed students already filling different sections of the arena.

"So many..."

Professor Fred overheard him.

"Every first-year class is here."

Amos looked around, spotting several hundred students already seated. Each class was marked by distinct uniforms, with professors standing close to their respective groups.

"This year's first-year intake is exceptionally talented."

"I've heard."

Fred looked toward the center.

"And because of that..."

"The Combat Department wishes to observe everyone from the beginning."

***

The students eventually made their way onto the vast arena floor, where a mountain of a man awaited. He stood well over two meters tall, his broad shoulders seeming strong enough to bear the weight of a castle wall. Faded scars crisscrossed his bare arms, each telling its own story. Unlike most professors, he wore no robe—just sleeveless combat gear, with a massive greatsword resting casually on one shoulder. Even standing still, he exuded an overwhelming presence. Conversations around the arena slowly faded as the giant’s gaze swept over the hundreds of first-years. When he finally spoke, his voice thundered across the space without the slightest hint of magic.

"I am Professor Zeke."

"I teach combat."

His sharp eyes swept over every student.

"I don't care who your parents are."

"I don't care if you're nobles."

"I don't care if you're commoners."

"I don't care if you ranked first or last in the entrance examination."

A brief pause.

"Once you step onto this arena, you are simply students."

Several professors watching from the sidelines nodded approvingly.

Zeke planted his greatsword into the ground with a heavy BOOM.

Dust scattered across the arena floor.

"Combat."

He folded his arms.

"It is won through strength, and strength alone."

The arena fell completely silent. Amos simply watched with mild curiosity.

Professor Zeke continued.

"I've already read all of your examination reports."

Several students stiffened.

"I know which one of you scored highest."

"I know which one of you barely passed."

"I know who thinks they're a genius."

A few students shifted uneasily in their seats.

He gave a smile, but it carried no warmth.

"The good news."

"You'll all discover how little those scores matter."

Several nervous laughs escaped the crowd.

"They'll matter eventually."

"But not today."

He raised one enormous hand.

"Today's lesson is fundamentals and assessment."

The relief vanished.

"Alright, each of you will show your basic combat skills. No mana techniques, no advanced magic, no artifacts, and no hidden tricks. Just reinforcement and pure skill."

Students immediately began whispering.

"So, we're sparring?"

"Against whom?"

"I hope not against the top ranks."

Professor Zeke heard every word.

His grin widened.

"You'll be fighting one another."

The whispers grew louder.

"But."

He raised another finger.

"I'll be choosing the pairs."

The arena became strangely quiet again.

Somewhere among the first-years, Amos quietly muttered,

"That sounds troublesome."

Willow sighed beside him.

"I had a feeling you'd say that."

"I have excellent instincts."

Professor Zeke's booming voice interrupted them once more.

"Before we begin."

He looked across the sea of students.

"I want to see your weapons."

Hundreds of swords, spears, staves, axes, bows, and shields appeared in succession, their metal glinting under the morning sun. Amos casually picked up a rapier, and Professor Zeke’s gaze flicked over it before moving along.

Amos spun the rapier once before catching it with practiced ease.

"The sooner the match ends the sooner I can go home."

Willow stared at him.

"I don't think classes work like that."

"They should."

Before Amos could continue, Professor Zeke's booming voice echoed throughout the arena once more.

"Everyone."

"Move to your assigned circles."

The enormous practice field lit up as hundreds of magic circles appeared across the stone floor.

The first practical combat lesson was about to begin.