Surviving the Magic Academy With Just Intelligence Stats-Chapter 84: Let The Show Begin

The grand Crono Academy arena, a marvel of architecture and magical engineering, stood as a testament to the institution’s prestige. This time, unlike the chaotic scene from earlier confrontations, the massive colosseum-like structure displayed perfect order. Thousands of students filled the tiered seating in neat rows, their academy uniforms creating a tapestry of colors against the white marble backdrop. The afternoon sun streamed through the enchanted ceiling, casting a warm glow across the gathered crowd.

Despite the orderly seating, the air buzzed with excited conversations, whispers and theories bouncing between spectators like lightning in a storm cloud. Snippets of discussions floated through the arena, creating a symphony of speculation and gossip.

"Did you hear? The Rothschild family patriarch fought General Autumn at the border," a senior student whispered dramatically to his companions.

"I heard the Golden Compass Trading Company is facing financial troubles after Maximilian Brightwell disappeared," another replied.

"The secret club has just released the academy nurse’s measurements..."

These fragments of conversation painted a picture of a kingdom in flux—political tensions, economic shifts, and mysterious happenings creating ripples throughout Avaloria. The arena had become not just a venue for competition, but a marketplace of information where rumors and truths mingled freely.

In the front rows, Ambrose sat with his party members—Marcus, Hualing, Adelaide, and Meihua. The seating arrangement was deliberate; all freshmen occupied these prime positions, as they would be the ones participating in the upcoming trials. The freshman class sat grouped in their five-person parties, their nervous energy palpable in the way they huddled together, reviewing strategies and whispering last-minute advice.

Not everyone had settled into a group though. Throughout the freshman section, students called out desperately, seeking to complete their parties before the competition began.

"We need one more combat-type!" a muscular boy shouted, his voice carrying across several rows. "Preferably someone with area damage skills!"

"Is anyone a healer? Our group is almost full," pleaded a girl with vibrant purple hair, her eyes scanning the surrounding seats with increasing desperation.

"Looking for a support talent! Anyone with buffs or defensive capabilities," called another.

"Tank needed! Must be able to absorb significant damage!"

The frantic search continued, students weaving between seats with hurried negotiations taking place in whispered conversations. Some looked relieved as they found their final members, while others appeared increasingly anxious as options dwindled.

Ambrose observed this social scramble with analytical detachment, his mind already moving beyond the immediate chaos. His eyes methodically counted the freshmen present, confirming exactly two hundred students in attendance. Two hundred students divided into groups of five means forty parties total, he calculated.

A new problem presented itself to his ever-active mind: how would the academy structure the competition? If forty groups simply fought until one remained victorious, the format would inherently disadvantage some participants who would face more battles than others. The tournament structure would need mathematical elegance to ensure fairness.

Ambrose’s mind worked through the problem like a master strategist playing chess several moves ahead. They’ll likely give eight parties who performed exceptionally well in previous tests a bye, he reasoned. That leaves thirty-two parties, which is a power of two—perfect for a balanced bracket.

He mentally mapped out the entire tournament: First round with thirty-two parties in sixteen battles, leaving sixteen winners. These sixteen would then join the eight who received byes, creating twenty-four total parties for the second round. Twelve battles would eliminate half, leaving twelve parties. The third round would feature six battles, removing another six parties. The fourth round would see three battles, with three winners advancing.

Since three isn’t even, they’ll give the highest-performing party a bye to the finals, Ambrose concluded. The remaining two will compete in the semifinals, with the winner facing the party who received the bye for the championship.

A satisfied smile touched Ambrose’s lips as he completed his analysis, just as the last of the freshmen settled into their newly formed parties. Exactly forty groups had materialized, confirming his initial count.

The murmuring crowd fell silent as a distinguished figure stepped onto the central platform, his regal bearing and confident stride commanding immediate respect as he approached the podium. His voice, enhanced by subtle magic, carried effortlessly throughout the vast arena. He introduced himself to the freshmen as Professor Richard Lancaster, he taught Military History, and would also be the one overseeing the test

Ambrose’s attention sharpened at the professor’s introduction. Lancaster—mother’s maiden name, he noted with interest. Despite the shared surname with Victoria, Ambrose couldn’t recall meeting this man before. Then again, his childhood illness had kept him isolated from most family gatherings and social events. Most likely a distant relative, he concluded, filing the information away for future investigation.

The professor’s commanding presence drew every eye in the arena as he prepared to explain the competition that would determine the freshman class rankings—and perhaps, the trajectory of their academic futures.

…

The elderly professor stepped onto the central platform of the academy’s grand arena. His silver hair and beard framed a stern face lined with decades of magical study. His emerald robes billow slightly as he raises his wand to his throat, casting a simple amplification spell. The excited murmurs of the gathered freshmen fade to silence as his commanding voice fills the space.

"Welcome, first-year students of Crono Magic Academy. I am Professor Richard Lancaster, I teach Military History and I’ll be your overseer for today’s Freshman Combat Assessment.

As you were informed earlier, all two hundred of you will participate in this tournament in groups of fives to demonstrate your magical aptitude as well as how well you work in a party. This is not merely a test of raw power—though that certainly helps—but of creativity, adaptability, and tactical thinking.

The tournament structure has been magically inscribed into the academy’s magic stone tablets. Thirty-two of you will face immediate trials, while eight, selected by the Sorting Crystal’s assessment of your entrance examinations, will receive byes to the second round. And the rest of the fights will continue like that until the semi-finals.

Before I get into the rules, you should note that this is not an entrance exam, you have already passed the entrance exam and have already been admitted to the academy, some of you should have already received your student IDs. This is merely a test to determine your ranking, but you should still give it your all as your ranking determines which class you’ll be placed in. Higher ranked classes receive higher resources which will be essential for those of you who have yet to awaken as well as other benefits for those who have already awakened.

Now, to the rules:

First and foremost, lethal magic is strictly forbidden. Any student casting with murderous intent will be immediately disqualified and face disciplinary action. The protective wards around each dueling platform will absorb most harmful energies, but they are not infallible.

Second, each duel has a time limit of precisely ten minutes. If no clear victor emerges within this timeframe, our panel of professors will judge the winner based on skill, strategy, and magical execution.

Third, victory conditions are simple: render your opponent incapable of continuing, force them to yield, or knock them from the platform. Once the platform’s boundary crystals glow red, the match is decided.

Fourth, no external magical artifacts are permitted except your wand and academy-issued robes. The enchanted seals on your wrists will detect any violations.

Fifth, while elemental manifestations, transfigurations, and most standard spells are permitted, summoning of extradimensional entities is expressly prohibited. The last student who attempted such foolishness is still being treated in the academy’s medical ward—three years later.

The brackets have been arranged by professionals to ensure fairness. Your names will appear on the grand crystal display when your match is called. Those receiving byes, your names are already illuminated in blue.

Remember, while winning is commendable, what we truly evaluate is your magical potential and growth. Many of our most accomplished graduates did not win their freshman tournaments but demonstrated exceptional qualities during their matches.

The champion will receive the Archmage’s Medallion, granting access to the Restricted Archives for the remainder of the academic year—a privilege normally reserved for third-year students."

Professor Lancaster pauses, his eyes scanning the nervous faces of the freshmen. A slight smile breaks through his stern demeanor.

"Take a moment to center yourselves. Remember your training. Trust in your abilities, but know your limitations."

He raises his wand high above his head, where it begins to emit a bright blue light.

"By the ancient traditions of Crono Academy, I hereby declare..."

The wand flashes brilliantly, sending a shower of blue sparks across the arena. The boundary crystals of all platforms ignite with blue flame.

THE FRESHMAN COMBAT TOURNAMENT HAS BEGUN! First combatants, to your platforms!

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Thunder rolls artificially through the arena as the first names appear on the crystal display.