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@Zeroth

“Kreszenz Leichenberg. May you earn your place, Wakeley.”

The name hung in the air, its recipient lost to the crowd already. But it didn’t matter, did it? By the end of this day, her name would be known to all who attended this year’s Magic Knights Selection Exam.

…

The brass band set the atmosphere within the arena, a bold clarion call that accompanied the sealing of the gates. At the proclamation of the master of ceremonies, the Captains of the Magic Knights rose up. Even at the westernmost point of Clover Kingdom, the heiress could recognize them. Who was ignorant of Everhart’s acts of valor, the gallantry of Vermillion? The fist of Greenvalley, or the sanctity of Walder? Eisenfaust and Birusk were unknown, but that only spoke of their meteoric talents, while one could not claim themselves as a noble if they knew not of Helve Silva, the most favoured for the throne.

The audience roared, a bubbling cauldron of zealotry and lust, admiration mixed with envy. Each Captain had years on her, and their talent and drive would not pale in comparison to her own. They were established individuals, beloved not only by mana but by the populace surrounding the central provinces of the kingdom.

Kreszenz looked towards them upon their lofty seats.

It would be better if she surpassed them before time eroded their capabilities. It would be proper. But for the time being? She would settle for a performance adequate to grant invitations to every squad present.

Though it appeared that there were plenty of others who were just as enthused and motivated as she was.

While some drew attention due to their provocative appearance and others drew attention due to a rare element, true exemplars of magic capability emerged as well. An inferno washed over the arena, a cowl of phoenix feathers donned by a blonde noble. The crimson tides consumed with wild abandon, destruction that could only be defined as a wildfire. It was the first display of real power that day, and the crowds took notice too, especially when the girl, a Solveig von Brandt, stepped out of the trial without any real signs of exhaustion. And if the brilliance of flame failed to rouse the attention of the audience, then the serpentine mass certainly would. Kreszenz had a vague recollection of someone with that countenance amongst the crowd, but his name was certainly that of a commoner’s. Snakes to consume tiles, snakes to shatter the pillar. Power, speed, and precision, endcapped with an exhalation and a stretch that was a mirror of the one that came before him.

A couple others came and went. It was hard to care for someone who hurt himself more than he hurt the pillar. Harder to care for someone who just performed as well as the rest of the detritus before the phoenix and the snake.

“Number 243. Kreszenz…Leichenberg.”

Whether phoenix or snake, however, both dwelt beneath the heavens. She would certainly remind them of that.

The heiress stepped forth, her cloak drawn over her shoulders. It was a ratty, worn-out thing, at odds with her noble name, but the wand that she drew out was anything but mismatched. It was of gold, with the allusion of a lance in the way it flared out past the rounded handle and then tapered off into a thin point. The pommel was inset with a sapphire, while a guard designed like a crown was more an adornment than anything with practical use. Indeed, there was a ceremonial air to it, an elegance ill-suited for brutality. A polish, that made it appear as if it had never been used outside a concert hall.

Her grimoire left its holster, levitating beside her. Her hands raised up, one daintily pinching her wand, the other grasping the charged air.

Snap.

Static discharge, strands of hair rising as the tiles rose off the ground, increased in numbers.

“Canon.”

It was not so fast as the Light displayed by another, but what difference was there to the human eye? The air exploded as a tree of lightning erupted from the tip of Kreszenz’s wand, each branch shattering the tiles in their entirety. They crumbled to bits, falling upon the ground, and then reconstituted themselves, gradually filling up the air again.

Thunder echoed, then faded, giving space in the air for onlookers to commentate and wonder. From their vantage point, perhaps they could make out her suntanned hands, the strands of blonde hair that spilled out from the hood of her cloak, the blue eyes that glowed as mana gathered. Centuries had passed since the Leichenberg name was heard of, but it certainly sounded noble, didn’t it?

Kreszenz didn’t mind. There was timing for everything, and she waited for the tiles to reach capacity before releasing another branching bolt that cleared open the space before her. Lightning, leaving afterimages in the eyes. Thunder, shaking the walls as surely as the heart. Rinse and repeat. A flick of the wrist, an inaudible incantation, and what meager forces that stood up after the storm was reduced to shards once more. A minute was far too long, and this arena was far too small.

She turned dismissively, five seconds left on the clock, for in what time remained, what remnants could gather may as well be ‘gifted’ to the one who’d inherit her task.

And as for that pillar of stone, ensorcelled as it was?

The heiress raised her wand. Closed her eyes. Only recent memories surfaced, for there was no competition left in her past. She was born exceptional, raised exceptional, and expected to be exceptional.

A fiery snake. A draconic snake.

All that power, and yet they still crawled on the ground.

“Heaven’s Strike.”

Her eyes opened, and she swung her wand down.

Lightning answered the instructions of the conductor, a brilliant flash crashing down upon the top of the pillar. It was a radiance that dimmed the day, tall shadows stretching outwards as if to sear the silhouettes of all nearby upon the arena walls. The sky burned, the stench of ozone permeating the dome-shaped barrier raised to protect the audience. There was a moment of resistance, perhaps, a moment where the barriers held strong. But what could withstand that which inspired commoners to beg forgiveness from divine wrath?

When that moment elapsed, the pillar split in half, crashing onto either side of the arena, but Kreszenz didn’t linger to watch the aftereffects. She turned on her heel as peals of thunder blanketed the audience’s reaction, a wave of rising dust obscuring her exit from the second trial.

There was no need for sighs or stretches, no need for reflection or bravado. 

There was only a fulfilled expectation, and a silent declaration.

Here and now, Kreszenz Leichenberg will be the sole star of this generation of Magic Knights.
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