[Timeline: 1 Hour After Round 1]

[Location: Class F Waiting Room]

The adrenaline had worn off. Now, there was only the ache.

Lukas lay sprawled on a wooden bench, a wet towel over his face. His hands, usually cold, were still radiating heat from the overuse of his Combustion Gloves.

"I feel like a raisin," Lukas groaned. "I used too much mana. My core feels dry."

Alaric sat in the corner. He wasn't complaining, but he looked like a patchwork doll.

The school nurse, a terrified woman who had barely touched him, had applied healing patches to the dozens of shallow cuts Jett had inflicted.

"He was fast," Alaric murmured, testing the mobility of his bandaged arm. "If I had missed that swing... I would have lost."

"But you didn't miss," Elena said. She was the only one who looked composed, sitting upright and polishing her monocle. "That's all that matters."

The door opened.

The room went silent.

Damien walked in without a smile. He walked with the rhythmic tap-tap of his cane.

"Professor!" Lukas sat up, the towel sliding off his face. "Did you see? We swept them! 3-0!"

Damien stopped in the center of the room. He looked at Lukas's exhausted state. He looked at Alaric's bandages.

"I saw," Damien said calmly. "I saw Lukas waste thirty percent of his mana on a flashy finisher when a simple fireball would have sufficed."

Lukas shrank back.

Damien turned to Alaric.

"And I saw you take twenty unnecessary cuts because you refused to drop your center of gravity. You aren't a statue, Alaric. You can move your feet."

The celebratory mood evaporated. The students looked down, ashamed.

Damien watched them for a moment. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched upward behind the mask.

"However," Damien softened his tone. "You won. And you made Class S look nervous."

He walked over to a cooler and tossed a High-Grade Mana Potion to Lukas. The glass vial glowed with concentrated blue energy.

"Drink up. Don't save it," Damien ordered. "The Quarter-Finals are tomorrow. And unlike today... your enemies will be prepared. The element of surprise is gone."

Lukas caught the potion. He uncorked it and downed it in one gulp. Color instantly returned to his cheeks as his mana core began to rapidly recharge.

…....…

[Location: The VIP Lounge – The Balcony]

Isabelle stood by the railing, overlooking the emptying stadium. She held a datapad in her hand, her fingers flying across the screen.

"The final tally is in, Young Master," she whispered as Damien joined her.

"Give me the damage report," Damien said, leaning on the railing.

"The odds were 200 to 1," Isabelle said, a tremor of disbelief in her professional voice. "The payout is exactly Ten Billion Gold."

Damien let out a low whistle. "That's a lot of mana potions."

"It is a catastrophe for the aristocracy," Isabelle corrected.

"The Imperial Betting Exchange balances its books by taking from the losing pool. We just drained the liquid assets of House Vane, House Thorne, and the Merchant Guild. Several Barons are effectively bankrupt."

"Good," Damien said coldly. "Let them starve. They've been eating well for too long."

"Professor Mozart."

A smooth, dangerous voice interrupted them.

Damien turned. Duke Vane stood there. He was a tall man with silver hair and eyes like chips of ice, the same eyes his daughter, Elise, had inherited. He held a glass of wine, but his knuckles were white.

"Duke Vane," Damien bowed slightly. "Enjoying the matches?"

"Immensely," the Duke said, stepping closer.

"Though I find the results... statistically improbable."

The Duke swirled his wine.

"A class of failures suddenly produces three prodigies? And rumors say a 'mystery investor' placed a massive bet on them just before the odds locked."

The Duke's eyes narrowed.

"Tell me, Professor. Did you know? Did you bet against the very institution you serve?"

It was a trap. If Damien admitted to betting, he could be investigated for match-fixing.

Damien laughed softly.

"Duke Vane, I am a teacher on a salary. Do I look like a man who has millions to gamble?"

Damien stepped closer, matching the Duke's intensity.

"But if someone did bet on Class F... perhaps they just recognized incompetence when they saw it."

"Incompetence?" The Duke bristled.

"Your daughter's class," Damien gestured to the elite box.

"They are trained to fight in tournaments. My students are trained to survive wars. If the nobility cannot see the difference... well, that is why they lost their money."

The Duke stared at him. For a moment, it looked like he might strike Damien. Then, he laughed. a cold, humorless sound.

"War, indeed. Let us see if your 'warriors' can survive tomorrow. My daughter, Elise, is not a necromancer with a glass jaw."

The Duke drained his wine and walked away.

"He suspects something," Isabelle whispered.

"Let him suspect," Damien said. "By the time he finds proof, the money will be long gone."

…....….

[Location: Class S Private Suite – The War Room]

While Class F was celebrating survival, Class S was working.

The luxury suite was dimly lit. A massive holographic screen replayed the matches of the day.

Prince Nero sat in a leather chair, his fingers steepled. He wasn't angry, nor was he screaming like the other students. He was completely focused.

"Pause," Nero ordered.

The hologram froze on Lukas firing his Needle Barrage.

"Look at his gloves," Nero said, pointing. "After every third shot, the runes dim for exactly 1.5 seconds. It's a cooling cycle."

He turned to Vance, a muscular boy with a prosthetic magitech wrist.

He had worn the brace ever since he punched Alaric's shoulder at the school gates weeks ago; the bone had shattered against the giant's skin as if he had punched a steel beam.

"He has a rhythm," Nero explained clinically to Vance. "Burst. Cooldown. Burst. Cooldown. He is vulnerable during the cycle."

Vance nodded, sweating. "So I attack during the dim?"

"No," Nero said.

"You stall. You use your [Water Mirror] to deflect the burst, then you pressure him during the cooldown. He has low stamina. Drag the fight out to ten minutes, and he will collapse on his own."

Nero waved his hand. The screen changed to Elena.

"The girl is dangerous," Nero admitted. "That Light Spell is S-Tier. But she has a tell."

He zoomed in on her face.

"She taps the monocle before she fires. She needs to calibrate the focal point. It takes 0.5 seconds."

He looked at Elise, Duke Vane's daughter. She was sitting elegantly, filing her nails.

"Elise. You are a Water Mage. Refraction is your specialty. If you create a mist, her light will scatter. She can't focus a beam through a prism."

Elise smiled, cold and sharp. "Consider her blinded, Prince."

Finally, the screen changed to Alaric swinging The Anvil.

Nero stared at the giant.

"The big one... is simple physics," Nero said. "High mass. High inertia. Once he starts a swing, he cannot stop it. If you bait the swing and dodge, he is open for a full two seconds."

Nero stood up. He looked at his team.

"Class F relies on shock and awe. They rely on you being scared. But if you take away their tricks... they are just trash."

…......

[Location: The Grand Hall – The Bracket Reveal]

The next morning, the entire school gathered in the main hall. The massive screen updated with the Quarter-Final Matchups.

Lukas looked up, swallowing hard.

[Match 1: Lukas (Class F) vs. Vance (Class S)]

"Vance..." Lukas whispered. "The guy who broke his wrist hitting Alaric?"

"He's a Water Mage," Alaric warned, his voice serious. "However, show him that water doesn't always beat fire."

[Match 2: Elena (Class F) vs. Elise (Class S)]

Elena narrowed her eyes. "The Duke's daughter. A battle of nobility."

[Match 3: Jorah (Class A) vs. Alaric (Class F)]

Alaric cracked his knuckles. "Class A. Good warmup."

[Match 4: Prince Nero (Class S) vs. The Berserker (Class B)]

Damien looked at the board. The System pinged in his mind.

[Mission Update: The Quarter-Finals]

[Objective: Defeat two Class S students.]

[Reward: 100DP.]

Damien adjusted his mask.

"Class S has analyzed you by now," Damien told his students.

"They know your tricks. They know your cooldowns."

He tapped his cane on the floor.

"So today... we stop using tricks."

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