Magician From the Past

Chapter 11

In the quiet aftermath of the grueling exams, the Mars tournament loomed on the horizon. Ethan, drenched in sweat from his rigorous training, paused as an incoming call flashed on his home AI's screen. An unknown number. Curiosity piqued, he answered, and Zephyr's holographic form materialized in his training room.

"Hi, how have you been?" Zephyr's voice carried an air of mystery. "I haven't heard of you since I dropped you off at the academy."

"Why didn't you tell me the tournament wasn't necessary?" Ethan's frustration bubbled forth.

Zephyr's scoff echoed through the room. "I didn't think it would matter. But that's not why I called. Do you know the whereabouts of your companions?"

Ethan's heart clenched. His former allies—now distant memories. "No, we've lost touch. They've probably forgotten each other by now. I made sure of it"

Zephyr's murmur held a hint of regret. "Nevermind then. Happy hunting." The call ended abruptly, leaving Ethan to ponder the enigma of his forced participation in the Martian Freshman tournament.

As they boarded the Grent Academy's ship bound for Mars, Christian's incredulous voice cut through the tension. "You're participating too?"

"I had no choice," Ethan grumbled.

Nickolas chimed in, "This year, only students from three academies entered the freshman's tournament. The rest of them are saving their best for the seniors division next week."

Scholarship students like Nickolas and Christian faced even more pressure—they had to showcase their abilities for scouts. "At least you've been scouted already, right Nick." Ethan asked.

Nickolas sighed. "True, but I need to alteast make it to the quarter-finals as part of my contract."

Their conversation shifted when Mike, ever carefree, breezed past. " Sucks to be you guys. My friend from my previous school will be there so I'll tag along with you. Exciting!"

As the ship touched down on Martian soil, the arena beckoned. Amidst the crowd, Ethan spotted Fan and Malik. "What are you guys doing here?"

Fan's frustration spilled over. "Well that's because someone can't do his job properly," she jabbed at Malik.

"Friends of your?", Christian asked.

Malik retorted, "It's not my fault they got away during the last task."

Christian interjected, "Hey, don't ignore me!"

Nickolas observed, "Seems like they were made for each other."

Fan and Malik denied any romantic connection. "We're not a couple."

Ethan explained, "We're here for the tournament."

Fan, clueless, asked, "Isn't this for scholarship students and extra credit?"

"Anyone can participate," Malik clarified, catching Ethan's irritated expression.

Malik leaned closer to Ethan. "What happened? Why are you entering?"

Ethan's anger simmered. "I lost a deal. But I'll make the most of this tournament."

The day of the Freshman's tournament dawned, casting its eager light upon the bustling arena. A total of 181 students stood poised, their dreams and destinies converging within the hallowed grounds. Among them, Christian harbored a silent plea: Please, not Ethan.

As the participants lined up, anticipation crackled in the air. Bracelets adorned their wrists, pulsing with information—their matches etched in digital script. Christian's gaze darted to the display, and there it was: his match-up. His heart rejoiced as his opponent was a student from a different Academy.