My eyes went back to the stage and I saw yet another peculiar sight. The nine who formed a joint front to gang up against one had split yet again!
Eight against one—they used the same tactics to root out the most troublesome in order to ensure the victory of the collective. I sighed in disappointment, realizing that this cycle was sure to repeat itself even after this round was over.
'I wonder how long this will go on...'
******************
"Aaaand, we have our representative for the Martial Arts department of the Third-year Lower Class!" Klaus Tallman returned to the stage, stretching his hands in the direction of the last student standing.
'Urgh, I knew it!' I rolled my eyes in disgust.
The one who became the winner was the Martial Arts that did not use any weapon—the bare-fisted fighter.
I had initially picked him for a brawler or monk who was more focused on strength, but surprise assailed me once the battle reached its final stages and the boy displayed an immense amount of speed and stamina instead.
Since the students kept picking on each other one after the other until three were left, the three realized that no matter what happened, it was every man for himself.
They decided to go on an all-out brawl since no one could be trusted anymore. The bare-fisted student survived through the use of his fast movements and immense flexibility.
None of the others could lay a finger on him, and anytime they decided to focus on fighting among each other, he would strike! They attempted to form an alliance to take him down, but he was too nimble for their exhausted selves to catch up to, plus their poor teamwork caused their downfall.
In the end, he utilized the weapons of the fallen challengers of the royale—which wasn't against the rules— and struck them when they least expected it.
It was a bold, smart strategy. I had to admit that the student's wits were impressive, clawing his way into victory, but I was still disappointed.
'This Battle Royale is supposed to pick out the strongest in each department and make them compete against those from the other classes. Don't they get it?'
By ganging up on the strongest and using the process of elimination, the ones who were left standing were weaker. That meant that the winner of this Battle Royale, while being smarter than the others, was much weaker than the first to lose.
'Cheap tricks won't work against the opponents of the other two classes! Don't they realize that?'
Ultimately, that Martial Artist of the Lower Class among the Third Years would lose in a fight with the others... that much was guaranteed!
They only achieved temporary victory—loss was inevitable!
***********************
For the Scholarship match, it was the least desirable and most boring for everyone—that was certain!
A question was posed to the Scholars competing, and each student was given a board where they had to write their answers.
The question revolved around the formulation of a quick theory in response to a problem addressed. The one who first resolved the issue correctly would be given the mantle of victory.
Of course, it wasn't a simple thing. Since it was a race against time, the temptation of rushing would appear. A single mistake would cost the competitor everything. Even when one decided to be slow and careful, if others were faster and managed to profer the tight theory on time, it would still end in a loss.
This competition was about balancing speed with ability. My eyes observed the judges who looked at the student's board with careful precision. They were already judging based on their answers, as was I.
Of course, for Scholars of high Caliber, or expert Magic-Users, it would be easy to spot the one with the highest probability of victory.
And, just as I expected... the victor came out victorious. The moment her name was announced, the glasses-wearing girl jumped up in victory to display her uncontrollable excitement.
"That's all for the Third Year Lower Class. I certainly hope all the First Years learned a lot from their presentation, because you're up next!"
"WHAAAATTTTT?!"
Shouts of disbelief radiated from the location of us First Years. They must have been certain that the tournament would continue with the Third Year Middle Class or something, then in the descending order, it would reach our turn. Now that the moderator had said this, certainly everyone's hearts were in a panic.
"The Third-year students only went first to serve as a demonstration for you newbies, but now that you've seen how it goes, we'll use the normal order," Klaus explained.
I sensed nervousness all around, but none of it affected me.
My eyes darted to my right, transversing where the Middle-Class students were seated, and going beyond that—I caught the sight of Stefan and Maria grinning in excitement. The time for the Royale was upon us at last and we would finally be able to see our respective skills.
Stefan looked in my direction and gave an arrogant smirk. His face was calm and relaxed, most likely because he knew we Lower Class students were the first to be called.
I caught the sight behind him and Maria, noticing the stranger once again. He had a soft smile plastered on his face, but I could read his emotions at all.
The golden color of his hair shrouded a great deal of his face, even covering one of his eyes like a layer. He had a ponytail that lightly hung on his head, and the golden hair atop his head had hints of orange at the tip.
There was no way I would have missed such a guy at our exam ceremony if he was indeed there. He had to be some sort of transfer student.
'He's smiling too, uh? I guess he's also excited. I'll be seeing him in action too, so it's fine.' My mind trailed as I retracted my attention to the stage—Klaus was about to call us down, after all.
"Now, then..." Klaus spoke, having a hint of dark foreboding in the wide smile he gave.
"... Let us begin!"
