Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 874: Only logical

“Combatants, please verify your badges,” Baun announced, the immense hologram of him wavering as he lifted his hands. “Your badges will illuminate green once you’ve been chosen for a round. At that point, channel a small quantity of magical energy into them. The imbuements on the badge will then transport you to the arena floor. Should you choose not to participate in a round for any reason, simply do not interact with your badge. Be advised that this action will lead to your disqualification from the tournament. Failure to enter a round within the allotted time will result in the same penalty.”

Lee held up a plate. “You really think anyone would sign up for the tournament only to immediately disqualify themselves just to snag some free food?”

“That sounds like an awful lot of effort,” Brayden chimed in.

“Mm,” Lee agreed. “Yeah. Probably not.”

Noah retrieved his badge from its storage sheath and observed its surface. It remained black. He looked toward Brayden and Lee. “Anything on yours?”

Both of them responded with headshakes.

“Aw, darn it.” Fist extracted her badge from her pocket. A subtle green luminescence emanated from a rune etched onto its surface. “What rotten luck. I’ve been pulled in immediately. I was rather hoping to linger around and do nothing for a bit longer.”

“You’re participating?” Brayden inquired, his eyes widening in surprise. “I had the impression you were simply going to lounge about and converse with Mordred.”

Fist directed a blank stare at him. “That sounds like sheer torture. There’s absolutely no way I’m allowing him to ensnare me in this tournament just to serve as his mouthpiece. I might as well amuse myself by having some fun. I shall endeavor my best to avoid being killed, thereby nullifying your agreement with him.”

“Best of luck,” Lee offered, giving Fist a thumbs-up. “Enjoy yourself. Go wreak some havoc.”

“Or perhaps refrain,” Brayden suggested. “Simply not dying would likely be an excellent starting point.”

Fist let out a smirk. She then pressed her thumb firmly onto her badge. A burst of verdant light illuminated the area. Tendrils of ancient magic coiled around Fist, engulfing her in an instant. As the light receded, she had vanished.

They all directed their gaze toward the arena below. Individuals began materializing across the stone expanse. They were so distant that the scene resembled a bustling ant colony appearing into existence. Noah winced. It appeared nearly impossible to discern any significant details of the battles from this vantage point.

He couldn't even fathom what the spectators above them would perceive. Some must have been positioned so far away that the stage was utterly indiscernible.

But no sooner had this thought crossed his mind than Baun’s image fractured. It dissolved into a cascade of light particles that reconfigured, coalescing into a sweeping, bird’s-eye perspective of the arena below.

“Whoa,” Lee exclaimed. “That’s remarkably impressive.”

Noah had to concede its magnificence. The enormous projection descended, gliding through the throng of combatants as if it were a drone. It then ascended once more, pulling back until Baun was once again integrated into the view. It seemed as though he possessed absolute command over the projected imagery. This was exceptionally advantageous. It likely also permitted them to pinpoint the more captivating duels and ensure everyone could witness them.

“Combatants!” Baun’s voice boomed. “Congratulations on reaching the very first round of the tournament! For the ensuing ten minutes, you are permitted to engage in any activity you deem necessary to prepare for the upcoming bout. However, the deployment of any offensive magic is strictly forbidden until I officially declare the commencement of the round. Any infraction of this rule will result in immediate disqualification. Now… prepare to deliver a spectacular performance!”

An enormous timer materialized in the air above Baun.

Involuntarily, Noah’s fists clenched. He could feel his own heart beginning to race as he peered intently at the airborne display, attempting to discern even the slightest indication of anyone familiar.

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***

Mordred exhaled slowly. His eyes remained shut, his legs folded beneath him. The world was steeped in profound silence. Only his own magic permeated the atmosphere.

His awareness extended through the dense suppression imposed by Aqua Terra. This formidable barrier was potent enough to subdue mages considerably more powerful than himself. Were it otherwise, it would scarcely serve as an effective deterrent.

A faint smile traced the corner of Mordred’s lips, undeterred. If there was one skill he truly excelled at, it was navigating around rules. No barrier could be made absolutely perfect, especially one of this magnitude. And when his objective was merely to gain a general overview of all the arenas, rather than scrutinizing a specific individual’s domain… well, he had accomplished considerably more challenging feats throughout his life.

The Tournament had, by this point, officially commenced. All five arenas were operating in near-perfect synchronicity. They had all initiated the preparatory phase of the first round. He had been unaware of this particular arrangement, but it presented itself as perhaps the finest gift he could have desired. Ten minutes to survey all the combatants and identify those of greater interest significantly simplified his task. It allowed him, at the very least, to begin pinpointing who the most promising individuals to focus his attention upon would be.

Mordred's consciousness swept across the various arenas. A bead of perspiration traced a path down his temple. His powers were significantly suppressed, a far cry from what he could unleash outside Aqua Terra, but it would have to suffice.

However, as the moments ticked by, a slight furrow appeared on Mordred’s brow. A particular oversight had occurred to him. Logically, he knew most of the mages participating were formidable. Yet, when they were all crammed into these arenas, and he tried to discern their strengths before any action commenced… well, when everyone possessed strength, true distinction became elusive.

Viewing from a detached, overhead perspective, it would require immense brilliance for anyone to truly stand out amongst the multitude. Focusing his attention would make observation easier, but at the cost of the broader, strategic view, increasing the likelihood of overlooking someone significant.

Mages were seen weaving intricate layers of Imbuements into the surrounding atmosphere. Others prepared defensive spells, produced artifacts, or began establishing Formations. Some congregated into alliances, having identified their companions. Nevertheless, as these factions expanded, those left outside became increasingly conspicuous.

Numerous solo mages also began to coalesce. It was probable they were forging pacts with unfamiliar individuals simply to secure a chance at survival. This was the sensible approach. Any mage found isolated when the preparation period concluded was likely headed for dire consequences.

These assembled groups would invariably target the weakest opponents first. Only after the most vulnerable and least defended clusters of mages were eliminated would they shift their focus to confronting more perilous adversaries. In essence, this initial phase tested individuals' interpersonal skills and networks more than their actual magical prowess.

Yet, not all participants chose to join existing factions. A considerable number remained solitary for various reasons. Some assumed a meditative posture upon the ground, while others faced outright rejection when attempting to integrate with established groups.

Eventually, however, most of these solitary individuals found one another and banded together. It seemed they had little alternative.

A select few, however, made no effort whatsoever to join any group. They remained rooted in their positions even as their preparation time concluded. As the countdown timers in the heavens steadily approached zero, some mages simply awaited the tournament's commencement.

One such individual was Fist.

Mordred's mental scan concluded its review of her cohort. While a few intriguing mages were present, none truly captured his particular interest. He felt quite confident that she would emerge victorious without significant difficulty. His focus then shifted to the other arenas, observing the mages who had failed to form alliances.

These solitary individuals represented the most promising starting point for identifying truly powerful contenders. After all, anyone who deliberately opted to face the competition alone was either exceptionally skilled or profoundly foolish. The only method to discern which category they belonged to was through careful observation during the tournament's progression.

And he would not have to wait much longer. The timers had already entered their final moments. In mere instants, the tournament would truly commence.

Mordred executed one final sweep. There were several individuals he intended to monitor closely, and—

He almost choked.

His concentration wavered, then snapped back. Mordred's eyes widened.

In the critical moments just before the tournament's start, the most crucial action any solo combatant could possibly undertake was to fortify their defenses or, at the very least, remain inconspicuous to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

This was, by all logical reasoning, the prudent course of action.

Therefore, Mordred's mind struggled to conceive of even the most outlandish reason why, with mere seconds remaining on the clock, this specific woman was in the process of shedding all her garments.