Chapter 201 - Determining the Bracket

"Now, it's the moment you've all been waiting for!" Suddenly, the tension in the air began to thicken as the announcer stole the crowd's attention yet again. "As we prepare to begin this year's final tournament before next year's first quadmester, we must first introduce those overseeing today's festivities! Behold, the woman in charge of hosting and directing the event, Lead Assitant Lizbeth Whizek!"

A beacon of green energy fell from the heavens, landing center stage. A feminine figure began descending from the clouds as if she was frolicking through the air. Very quickly, she stepped on the stage in her green and white robes, representing her family name well.

"Hello, beautiful citizens of Trighton City!" Lizbeth shouted, letting her golden hair flutter gracefully with the wind. "Today, I'm quite excited to see the future of Trighton begin to unfold before our eyes. Surely, stars will be born today and our expectations are high, yet I'm certain that we won't leave here disappointed in the talent taking part in today's tournament. Please, join me in offering our contestants a round of applause for coming out today!"

Everyone then stood up. They broke out in claps and cheers, riling up each other at the request of the mature beauty on stage. 

Below the platform, Oli smiled softly as most of the crowd was unaware of his presence. All eyes were either on Lizbeth or the potential top five competitors. Other than their own sponsors, all other contestants were left without any direct cheers.

Hurman stood along with everyone else, offering claps but no verbal cheers. He noticed Lizbeth's wink but didn't acknowledge it as a voice sounded out in his head.

'Is she only an elder?' 

Hurman whispered so softly that he could barely hear himself, "Supposedly, but I'd believe anyone that told me she may be a perennial."

'So I should assume that some secret perennials may exist throughout the territory… I'll be keeping that in mind,' Vloz mentioned from the depths of Hurman's shadow.

"And now, for our special guest!" the announcer shouted as Lizbeth retreated to a set of ornate seats secluded from the others on the first row of bleachers. "Or should I say, 'special guests'?"

Suddenly, lightning struck the raised platform. All were startled as the thunder rolled through the area and left everyone shocked speechless. As the flash faded, one silhouette was left standing on the stage, not at all affected by the lightning strike.

"Allow me to introduce Professor Bastol, lead instructor and head of Trighton Institute's magic course!"

Everyone went crazy as the professor appeared in the institute's ceremonial garb, a simple, white robe with a multi-colored sash. His thin glasses shined in the morning light as he adjusted them and turned to join Lizbeth.

But before Professor Bastol got off the stage, pillars of earth erupted out of the ground along with flames and scattered embers. The central pillar quickly burst as a man of Oli's size and muscular build gave a satisfied grunt. He then punched the ground beneath him, shattering the remaining pillars and leaving the stage as if nothing had happened at all, apart from the makeshift fireworks of the heated rock debris.

"HA! HA! HA!" boomed the muscular man, wearing a sleeveless robe that wrapped over one of his shoulders. It left his muscles exposed for all to see as his multi-colored sash followed the fold of his robe.

"Professor Nixt, ladies and gentlemen! What a showman!" cheered the announcer, adding to the crowd's already-growing enthusiasm.

"You're as impatient as ever…" Professor Bastol sighed with a chuckle.

"Says the guy who bolted here fast as lightning?" joked Professor Nixt, nudging his coworker with his elbow.

"With the directors of both the warrior and magic course present, this tournament has already proven to be something incredible! But… Fellow citizens of Trighton City… There's still one more person I've yet to introduce…" 

The crowd began to quiet down as the announcer paused over and over again. Their anxiousness didn't die down but instead grew with every pause.

"Ladies… and gentleman… I give you… the man who oversees all of Trighton Institute and works hand-in-hand with our territory leader… Dean Jarrit!"

The arena burst into cheers! Everyone began to frantically search for signs of the great dean's arrival, yet no one found a thing. This went on for a couple of minutes as their excitement subsided little by little. Even the announcer seemed confused, staring up at the sky as if waiting for his next cue.

Cough! Cough!

While most of the stadium couldn't hear that blatant cough, it was more than loud enough for the nearby announcer to turn around in surprise.

"There he is, ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted, pointing proudly at the luxurious seats despite his shaken nerves. "Dean Jarrit!"

Cheers sounded again, albeit less loudly than for anyone else that had appeared prior. But Hurman was clamping more loudly than ever and wore a proud grin on his face. This was the same for many people from the older generation, regardless of what colors they wore and where they sat. Even Reginol stood and smiled in praise of the old dean and the dean's grey robe that matched his beard.

"Now that our star-studded panel of hosts has arrived, it's time for the first lottery!" stated the announcer, getting the contestants up on their feet. "One-by-one the contestants will come up and select a stick from this bag! Each stick carries a number and will help us create our first-round brackets! Please, come up in order of your rankings!"

Everyone below the stage lined up without a word, following tradition to a tee. Apart from the occasional whisper from the wild card entrants, each competitor wore a confident and steady expression. The sponsors' entrants all knew exactly what they were getting into and it was finally time for them to shine. Now, all that mattered was pulling well and being placed with an opponent that would at least let them have a chance to show off and move to the next round!