Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (90/?) (Patreon)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! There’s been revisions done to Chapter 89 that I’d highly suggest you guys check out first before reading this week’s Chapter so please do head over there first if you haven’t already! :D Thank you and I do hope you guys enjoy this week’s chapter! :D

I stood there, staring blankly at a literal Arthurian challenge.

A sword wedged in a stone, with little indication of this being either a set piece, or a sport; save for the context of this whole challenge of course. 

Though honestly, the fact that it wasn’t your typical strength-based sport or exercise really got me excited. 

“Well, Cadet Booker?” Chiska reiterated, pointing at the sword. “Are you, or are you not, familiar with the sword-in-the-stone challenge?” 

I took a moment to collect my thoughts, before letting out an inward chuckle at how ridiculous it was to see in person. “Well… yes and no, professor.” I managed out with a huffy chuckle. “I guess you could say these sorts of things are… the stuff of legends.” 

Chiska only managed a few curious blinks in response to that non-answer. Which prompted me to quickly elaborate. “It’s been a while since the last time someone did it is what I meant.” I chuckled out nervously. “In any case, I’m not going to waste any more of your time on the specifics. I’m guessing it’s pretty self explanatory.” I offered with a shrug. 

“You grab the sword by the hilt, and you lift, newrealmer.” Ping butted in, crossing his arms, and huffing all the while. Though at this point, I wasn’t sure if that huffing was from exhaustion, frustration, anger, or a mix of all three. “I genuinely do not see how confusion can take hold with something as straightforward as this. It’s as much a test of strength, as it is about a test of character. All of this should be quite self-explanatory, no?” 

A brief staredown soon commenced, as the man made it his goal to more or less place himself across from me, parting the seas of students as we both held our ground in the midst of this self-imposed challenge.

Chiska, thankfully, was quick to break things up. “In any case! Whilst I do appreciate the spirit of competition—” Chiska made a note to glare at Ping, before turning towards me with a look that just screamed stand down. “—let us keep argumentative banter to a minimum, and instead focus on exerting those frustrations on the tasks ahead instead!” 

The entire scene was defused before it could even erupt into an all-out verbal smackdown, which whilst a relief for Chiska, only served to rile up the bull even more. 

“Right then!” Chiska quickly turned to the three stations, starting first with the pile of javelins. “Let’s go through a few basic rules, shall we?” 

What transpired next was more or less a brief breakdown of rules and expectations for each station. 

The javelin throw boiled down to distance. “The furthest throw wins!” 

The weight lifting bench, boiled down to, well… weight. “Heaviest weight capable of being lifted wins!”

And the sword-in-the-stone challenge was… well… quite literally as the whole setup would suggest. “Use any means necessary, and with every ounce of strength in your body, to lift the sword up and out of its earthly confines — the sword will determine that which is worthy.” 

“Since the strength challenge consists of three individual challenges, the Rite of Challenges states that the challenger must clear at least two out of the three individual challenges to qualify for a total victory of the strength segment of today's activities!"

No questions were posed for either of these exercises either.

And so, the trials began.

Starting first, with yet another one practically set up for the ancient ancestor in me. 

The javelin throw.

With a few bursts of mana radiation, we soon found the empty grass field in the middle of the stadium changing once more, as white-lines and demarcations were scored into the earth, and a single barrier was erected to indicate the boundary between the field and the run-up to the throw.

Whilst not necessarily trained in throwing javelins of all things, I at least had some tangential experience with the art of throwing things in my PT regimen; grenades being the most obvious element of that training. 

And despite how different throwing a grenade is from a javelin, I trusted that the latent intuition in me could carry me the rest of the way. That, and a brief little briefing offered by the EVI on the principles of a javelin throw. 

More students decided to join this particular activity, perhaps being lulled into a false sense of confidence by how deceptively simple it looked.

They couldn’t have been more wrong however.

“Alright then! Line up! Let’s take this one thrower at a time! I don’t plan on sending any of you to the healing wing today, not if I can help it! I don't want a repeat of the 987th year group!” Chiska announced brightly.

This prompted the first student, Airit the bat, of all people, to step up to the plate with her winged-arm gripping a javelin tightly.

With a few words of encouragement from the professor, and a firm pat on the back, she stepped forward on the ‘starting line’. 

She took a confident breath, taking those few tentative steps forward, rearing back with javelin in hand, before lobbing it forwards.

…

It soared high… but arced even higher. 

…

The javelin landed almost vertically, piercing the dirt after only a few seconds in the air.

… 

It barely cleared the barrier. 

A part of me wondered if this would become a pattern.

And so when another student stepped up to the plate, Cynthis this time around, I kept my gaze poised at the demarcated field in front of me. 

In fairness, she managed to lob the thing more impressively than Airit did.

But despite her efforts, she wasn’t able to break the pattern. 

The javelin fell… just barely in front of the first. 

This incremental improvement continued.

With student—

“Next!”

—after student—

“Next!” 

—after student—

“Next!”

—after student, arriving at a rather unsatisfying scattering of results. 

Most of the javelins ended up scattering just in front of the barrier.

However, once again, it was Qiv, Thalmin, and Ping that managed to break away from averages.

The former managed to double the average throwing distance.

Thalmin managed triple. 

This left Ping, who stood just in front of me as the both of us had been relegated to the last two in the challenge. 

It was clear he wanted as close to the last laugh as possible, and it was even clearer that despite his tired huffs, the rage within him pushed him to perform beyond his limits. 

It was also clear to me that he wasn’t above passive-aggressive tactics, as when I went to reach for one of the javelins in the rack, the man quickly followed — grabbing the very same javelin I’d reached for. 

I tugged first.

To which he reciprocated with a firm tug of his own.

This tug of war continued, up until the final student in front of us was cleared, and Chiska once more came in to break up the obvious conflict. 

“Lord Ping.” She announced sternly. “It is your turn.” The feline gestured towards the field, which prompted the man to quickly grab another javelin of his own, but making sure to make as much of a mess as possible as the entire rack of javelins fell to floor following that little tantrum.

The man stood firm at the starting line, breathing deeply, and using his booted hoof to kick up dirt and grass behind him.

He had some form to him, I’ll give him that.

However, as he started picking up speed, it was clear that form was overtaken by a lack of coordination for one reason or another.

The spear left his arm with a wobbly follow-through, the bull nearly tumbling to a stop at the barrier, as the whole class was transfixed by the course of the ancient missile. 

The speed was impressive, the arcing wasn’t as ridiculous as the rest of the other students, and most of all… it actually had some flight to it.

Sadly, however, years of hardened combat overruled whatever raw power he’d put behind it. 

As the javelin found itself landing just between Qiv and Thalmin’s throws. 

The lupinor had once again bested our peer group’s arch nemesis.

This left the bull in a difficult and somewhat awkward spot, as he left the runway unsure of what was to come of my throw.

Sadly for him, I felt the instinctual call to throw growing louder and louder by the second as I finally stepped up to the plate. 

Tens of thousands of years of throwing things had led up to this point.

And so, with that heritage behind me, and quite a few years of professional throwing experience (in the grenade department) backing me up as well, I pushed forward.

One step followed another, as I began taking long, purposeful strides, until I hit that final line.

At which point, I let go, putting everything into that arm as possible, and following through for good measure.

My eyes, and the rest of the class’ eyes, were fixated on the flight of my javelin. 

Everyone went quiet, breaths were held, and all eyes fixated on the slim object as it flew high, straight, and level, passing by the class’ clustered averages, then Qiv’s, then Ping’s, and finally, landing just ahead of Thalmin’s javelin. 

Silence dominated the few seconds following that result.

But soon enough, Thalmin himself started a series of claps, which were awkwardly followed by Thacea, Ilunor, and even Gumigo and Etholin as Chiska promptly stepped up towards me and landed a firm grip on my armored shoulder. “You throw like an elf, Cadet Booker.” She spoke softly with a cock of her head. But before I could inquire further, she quickly turned towards the crowd with a bright smile. “The javelin trials goes to Cadet Emma Booker! Now! Onto the weights!” 

However, while Thalmin and the rest of the gang seemed to be riding off of the high of these two successive victories, a strong twinge of concern started descending upon me as we approached what I felt would be a real challenge. 

Weight lifting. Or more accurately, bench-pressing. 

Auris… looked built for this sort of thing.

This sentiment seemed to be shared amidst most of the class as well, as few dared to take the plunge towards the benches provided. 

So despite going through the effort of bringing nearly a hundred benches, only a quarter of them were occupied. 

“All set?” Chiska inquired, prompting more than a few nervous nods to emerge from the crowd. “Alright then! Remember how this goes! With each round that passes, your weights will be successively increased! Raise your weights as high as your arms will allow, and don’t be afraid to let go preemptively if you need to! I will be sure to prevent any injuries, you can trust me on that!” She winked, as several mana radiations were detected, clearly indicating our weights had been activated. 

I took a deep breath, right before the whole thing started off.

“Go!”

The first set of weights were trivial enough, but the sound of the daring volunteers made it clear that not everyone was sharing that same sentiment.

Several students more or less left preemptively before we could get anywhere.

This pattern continued as we moved onto the next successive set of weights, something that the professor noted was reaching the typical intermediate range for most of her classes.

Only a handful of students dared to remain at this point however, as I counted the usual suspects — Qiv, Gumigo, Thalmin, and Ping, amidst a few others who surprisingly clung on for dear life.

That latter statement, however, proved to be more true than I would’ve wanted to imagine. As I heard a strained scream, followed by a metallic rattling, and what should have been a blood-curdling yelp…

We all craned our heads over to see one of gumigo’s peers staring up at a set of floating weights with a thousand-yard stare. His whole body locked in place, as Chiska approached, and flung the levitating weights over to the side. “Told ya you could count on me.” She reinforced with a smile, before ushering the small crocodile off and towards the bleachers.

That terrifying episode more or less scared off the scant few brave souls that remained, cutting the competition down to what I was tempted to call the top percentile. 

Unbothered by the near-accident, we pushed on. 

Round after round saw weights increasing, and arms showing signs of wavering through quivering. 

The next to withdraw was Gumigo, at which point my arms started to feel like jelly.

Next up was Qiv, who left with a fair few claps from the crowd, giving me not enough time to rest my sore and weary arms.

This left just Thalmin, Auris, and myself, to duke it out.

And it was not looking good for me, as I could just about feel myself hitting my proven ceiling.

“Tired already, newrealmer? Are you ready to acquiesce?” He cockily jabbed. 

I thought about it. I actually sat there thinking about it long and hard. 

“Not. A. Chance.” I managed out between strained breaths, and against my better judgment, I kept pressing on, matching the next batch of weights. 

At which point, I could feel I’d made a mistake.

But it was a mistake that the EVI seemed to take notice of.

[Temporary override of FROM-1 Settings. Returning to fully compensated mode.]

I quickly found my arms lifting the entirety of the weights, temporarily matching the bull’s, at least for now. 

[Returning to FROM-1 Settings.]

“What the heck was that about, EVI?”

“Potential injury to operator noted. You outlined that I should intervene if I detect potential harm being incurred.”

“Ugh. Fine! You have a point there. I’ll be more careful next time. If you see potential injury, stop me again. But I’ll try to be a bit more cautious moving forward.”

“Acknowledged.”

I took a deep breath, and watched in horror as Ping lifted yet another set of weights. It was clear that the man had gone an entire weight class above me during my back and forth with the EVI.

It was around that point that I simply got up, knowing I needed to stop, especially with the prospects of injury looming overhead. I couldn’t afford that, not when there were the magical trials ahead, and a chance at still overcoming the bull at the final tie-breaker for the magic-less weight challenge.

“Heh.” The bull managed out under a tired breath. One that eventually gave way to an all-out self-gratifying laugh. “And so the posturing has reached its inevitable demise. But let me tell you this, newrealmer! I have yet to even tip-toe into the shallows of my abilities!” He postured, before going right back at it, gesturing for Chiska to pour on the weights.

Thalmin withdrew right around the next round.

This all culminated in a lengthy, pride-filled ‘victory parade’ as the bull seemed to attempt to match my marathon antics tit-for-tat; coming close to fulfilling his promise of getting his revenge ten-fold. 

“Lord Ping is doing it! He’s really doing it!”

“I say, I say, my fellows, the avatar of righteousness has returned in spades to put this newrealmer in her place!”

These whispers soon became outright cheers, as golf-claps evolved into cheers of praise with a few fervent whistles to boot. 

The tortle-like-turtle seemed to lead the charge, along with Ladona who beckoned the crowd on by jumping to the front of the bleachers.

Two pom-poms manifested in her palms, as sparkles erupted from her antenna, eliciting ‘oos’ and ‘ahhs’ from the crowd. 

By the end of all of these antics, I could see that look of self-gratification more or less plastered across the bull’s muzzle, as he pushed further and further until finally… Chiska decided to intervene. 

“Lord Ping, are you sure this is truly—”

“Ah! Professor! Have I not accomplished what it was I had set forth to do?” He spoke following a wobbly-armed push. 

“Yes you have, Lord Ping. I do suggest we move forward from this—”

“Ah, by your suggestion, I presume?” He reiterated, loudly at that, making sure that everyone was overhearing the conversation.

“Yes, Lord Ping. I am afraid we haven’t the allotted time to keep pushing forward. In addition, I would advise that you not push yourself any further so as to—”

“Oh do not fret over my welfare, professor. I can do this all day if I wish! But since you asked, I shall oblige.” He got up from the benches following that, making an effort to allow the weights to fall upon the bench soon after, as it skidded off and hit the floor beneath with a loud CLANG! 

He stood in front of the crowd now, trying his best to extend both arms by his side, hiding a twinge of pain from behind his wide grin. 

“Lord Ping, I would advise that you refrain from any actions which may lead to damage to Academy equipment.” The professor spoke under a hushed breath. “Nevertheless, your performance has been admirable! So! May I introduce to the class, the winner of the weight challenge! Lord Auris Ping!” 

The crowds went wild by this point, as even Gumigo joined in on the cheers.

Ladona even hopped forward from the bleachers, fluttering her wings a bit to gain some air, before landing daintily on Auris’ awaiting arms. The latter seemingly struggled to hold his own following that sudden act. 

I turned to Ilunor following this, as the Vunerian seemed to huff out frustratingly. “What is it, earthrealmer?”

“Is… is this typical for—”

“It is, as I have stated many times over, Emma Booker — theater! What you are witnessing is the theater of life!” 

A brief pause punctuated the scene, as I stared warily at Ping and his sheer capacity for brute strength.

I started to dread the upcoming sword pull, as Chiska quickly ushered the whole class towards the Arthurian set up in question.

“The strength challenges currently stand at a tie! With Cadet Emma Booker holding a victory over the javelin throws, and Lord Auris Ping holding a victory over weights! The sword-in-the-stone shall prove as the tie-breaker for the strength challenges!” Chiska announced brightly, though despite her giddiness, I could just about feel a wave of anxiety slowly washing over me. 

The sword pull was… almost entirely a strength-based thing. There was technique to it, I was sure of it. Heck, the age-old wisdom of lifting with your legs and not your back came to mind almost immediately. I’d have to squeeze every ounce of energy I could for this, which meant I was very firmly at the back of the line, resting up as best I could. 

Though strangely enough, there seemed to be no shortage of people lining up to try this particular ‘sport’, as even Ilunor and Rostario moved to the front of the queue, each of them seemingly locked in a bitter rivalry that saw this particular activity as the climax of their quarrel of the day. 

This culminated in what appeared to be something that felt very much like a disqualification, as the both of them rushed towards the sword, tugging and pulling it from one side to another, all the while bickering and yammering away. 

“This is my destiny!” 

“No! It is mine!” 

As expected, Chiska descended on them not a few moments after they started, disqualifying them soon after. 

Following this, it was more or less an uninterrupted line of students that went one after another, each trying their best but failing to do more than budge the sword just a few tugs from its enclosure.

This all changed when Qiv arrived on scene however, as the man took a deep breath, reaching down towards the hilt of the sword, and began pulling. 

However, despite his progress, it was clear he was falling into the same trap as every other student so far. 

As his back remained more or less hunched over the rock, the man refusing to bend down or assume any other posture, instead focusing his entire efforts into his arms and back.

It was clear his sheer strength was managing something however, as the sword began to budge upwards, light started to emanate from its hidden blade, and magical winds started to pick up soon after.

Though as quickly as the light show started, so too did it end, as he eventually lost his grip, and with it, his will to keep on going. 

This pattern continued, flip-flopping between minor success stories like Qiv’s, and outright failures like Ilunor and Rostario’s.

Eventually however, it was Ping’s turn. The man, masking a heavy breath and holding himself tall, pushed forward toward the stone to the fanfare of a hundred golf-claps.

He reached for the hilt, but hesitated, choosing instead to rile up the crowd even further. 

No words were exchanged during this, as Ladona soon took over the cheerleading aspect of this operation, whilst Auris now focused his entire attention on the sword in question.

The man, like every other student before him, gripped the hilt of the blade with both of his hands; mimicking the legendary pose seen in tapestry and painting alike. 

With a heavy breath, he pulled. 

The sword actually budged, though not by a significant margin. 

This prompted another tug, as the fight well and truly began right about here.

Inch by hard-fought inch, the iridescent blade began emerging from its stony prison, as magical winds began picking up all around the bull.

However, where most efforts stalled at the appearance of a light breeze, Auris pushed further into stormy winds, as the whistling of the air added to the intensity of the scene; almost masking the grunts and frustrated cries of the bull.

The sword shone brighter than ever before, its shimmering beams of light bouncing off of the crowd and the empty bleachers alike. 

So cinematic was the experience that I felt both fascination and dread manifesting in equal measures; my victory more or less hanging on by a thread. 

Seconds of progress turned into an entire minute of yells and grunts however, as stormy winds and resplendent lights remained, all to the picture of a sword still stuck halfway in the stone. 

It was clear that the bull was at an impasse, prompting Chiska’s arrival to the scene. Not a second after her arrival, did the sword finally start to slip from his grip. As inch upon inch was lost to the tune of a series of “NO NO NO!”, and clenched eyes. Eventually, the sweat-drenched hilt slipped from the bull’s grip, as it slid back into the rock with an unsatisfying PLOOMPF!

“You performed admirably, Lord Ping.” Chiska noted, only to be received with the ire of a raging bull. 

“I would have gotten it out!” He managed out under a frustrated huff. “It… it was the poor craftsmanship of the hilt! There was no moisture reduction feature, the sweat of my hands and the hands of every student that came before me had caused a significant reduction in my ability to grip! I was set up to fail!” He declared loudly, prompting Chiska to walk up to the blade, laying down what looked to be a handkerchief on the hilt. After letting it ‘soak’ for a bit, she lifted it up, revealing not even a drop of sweat. 

“Contrary to your claims, Lord Ping, the hilt is enchanted to standard battle-specifications. Which also means quality of life measures such as grip-enhancement via moisture reduction.” She shrugged. “In any case, you have performed admirably, Lord Ping. So please, I urge you to return to the stands.” 

It looked as if Ping was about ready to throw down some hands with Chiska.

However, instead of acting on that rage, he merely stormed off, stomping his booted hooves as he returned and then walked through the sea of whispering crowds. 

This left just me, and Thalmin. The latter of which stepped up to the plate first, and much to my surprise… he immediately took a departure from the norm.

As the lupinor actually attempted to lift using his legs.

It seemed to me as if the age-old wisdom was indeed present within the lupinor. His martial upbringing and more down-to-earth attitudes probably meant he actually had some hands-on experience with such things, as opposed to the noble predispositions of most of the year group. 

This technique proved to work significantly better than almost all other attempts, barring Ping’s. As Thalmin’s attempt brought the sword to just about Auris’ trial, only to let go shortly after.

A quick exchange between him and the professor soon followed, as Chiska even shook his hand in appreciation of his valiant efforts.

Finally, I found myself as the last contestant, as I stepped up to the plate and took in several deep breaths.

I found myself crouching similar to Thalmin, but instead of reaching just for the hilt of the blade, I instead placed both of my arms underneath the hand guards; pulling an almost fork-lift like maneuver. 

It was then that I began lifting, using every ounce of my energy to dislodge the sword from what felt like a vacuum seal that just didn’t let up.

I could see the iridescent lights emanating from the blade now, and the stormy winds that began picking up dust, dirt, and detritus that surrounded me.

Taking it low and slow, I could feel the sword slowly dislodging, in a manner that was more controlled and more similar to Thalmin’s measured approach.

Whilst difficult, it didn’t seem entirely impossible, so I kept at it. I pulled and pulled, struggling and shifting my weight, reaching that tentative halfway point with great effort.

Yet at this point, I felt like I was at yet another impasse. Simply maintaining this position was putting a strain on me.

I couldn’t tell how far I was at this point, but taking a glance at my panoramic live-feeds, I could see the winds reaching a stormy haze that began pushing even students back, with Etholin hanging onto the unmoving pillar that was Uven Kroven for dear life.

Yet despite the progress, and despite the blinding light that prompted the EVI to tint my lenses… there was just too much suction that kept the sword in place. 

And so, in a final act of desperation, I decided to give it my all, pushing my feet against the rock as I attempted to rip it off with the combined force of my entire body.

This resulted in me losing both my grip as well as my footing as I fell back a few feet, causing the lightshow and storm to abruptly stop.

A quick glance at the rock revealed that the sword had now returned to its original state, and a sense of dread washed over me as a result.

“Cadet Emma Booker, are you feeling alright?” I heard Chiska ask, as she reached a hand towards me, urging me to get up. 

“Yes, professor.” I managed out. Though I can’t say the same for the challenge. I thought to myself.

The looks on the majority of the crowd’s faces betrayed only astonishment, but of course, without the admiration that came with Qiv and Auris’ attempts. 

I got up slowly, preparing to hear an announcement of my bitter defeat, or a tie or even a draw that would otherwise end my foolhardy challenge. 

“And that concludes the sword-in-the-stone challenge!” She began, turning towards the crowd, prompting me to flinch inwardly in anticipation. 

“I hereby officially declare Cadet Emma Booker, as the victor of the sword-in-the-stone challenge!.” She declared with a wide grin on her face, allowing all of that pent-up stress to immediately crumble away. “Following this, with a two-thirds victory in the strength portion of today’s non-magical challenges, I likewise officially declare Cadet Booker as victor for the entirety of the non-magical challenges!” 

The professor gestured to the scoreboard, one that quickly had my name scrawled into it using the fleets of gargoyles she had at her disposal.

“But… how—”

“Your sword pull managed to surpass Lord Ping’s!” She interjected, turning to face me. “The sword-in-the-stone challenge was never an all-or-nothing challenge! But rather, a challenge to gauge one’s strength utilizing the sword as a point of reference! Though I do admit, there are some who manage to pull the sword… but that’s a story for another time! In any case, victory is yours, Cadet Booker!”

I felt my heart flutter in the heat of the moment, as a thought quickly dawned on me that almost made me chuckle.

Whilst this was a strength based contest… I imagine I could attribute a lot of this success to the remaining energy reserves I had. 

Endurance, in a weird way, had managed to see me through to the end; even if it wasn’t in the most obvious way possible. 

Though that endurance was going to be tested further, if the breakneck pace of PE was of any indication.

“Rejuvenation potions! Rejuvenation potions for all!” Chiska announced brightly, as gargoyle after gargoyle arrived, balancing little silver platters with wine glasses filled to the brim with an iridescent fluid. 

One that the EVI logged as concentrated mana.

“We haven’t the time for a break, so please, take your rejuvenation potions and line up for the start of the magical activities!” 

Wine glasses quickly found themselves in the hands of all students, including myself. But whilst the entirety of the student body had the privilege of downing the sparkly solution, I was stuck just staring at the fluid that to most was a source of life, but to me was just liquid death.

Without much prompting, the EVI began feeding me the best alternative to this that it had at its disposal — some good old fashioned sports-grade hydration fluids. 

Throughout this, conversations started emerging from within the crowd. As a curious development spawned within the student body.

“This next segment should prove… detrimental to our dear savage.”

“Here, here! Brash is the heart of the untempered beast, so we must act, collectively, to snuff out this petulant upstart.” 

“Calm, I urge calm my fellows! Let us not pay the newrealmer the unearned attention she so desperately craves!”

“Indeed… calm… now, if we are quite finished, I wish to propose a point of opportunity. Does anyone care to take on a gentlemanly wager?” Ilunor managed to break through the murmurs once again, his voice carrying a certain weight that seemed to bring the whole group to a grinding halt.

“I know you have found yourself in the midst of savages, Lord Rularia, but would you really stake your dignity on—”

“This is merely an opportunity, my dear fellow! An opportunity to back words with actions! And can you say you would truly see yourself lowering your body to participating in acts of physicality?”

“...”

“Indeed! So in lieu of that, I say, for those of us unwilling to partake in such trivialities — let us put action where our words lie. Or in this case, the weight of gold to back up our words.”

Seconds passed, as Ilunor was quick to point at Etholin. “You there! Merchant Lord! I declare you the purse-master of this gentlemanly endeavor!” 

The little ferret didn’t even have time to react as Ilunor grabbed the man’s hat, before shoving it in his hands.

Not a second later, coins started filling it.

“Ten.” Thalmin started. “For Cadet Booker.” 

“One-hundred, for Lord Ping.” Gumigo continued, completely eclipsing the lupinor’s pool.

“Five-hundred.” The round mammal from before quickly added.

“Seven-hundred.”

“Seven-fifty.”

“Seven-seventy-five.”

“Eight-hundred.”

“One-thousand-four-hundred for Lord Ping.” The tortle-like-turtle emerged out of nowhere, pouring a whole load of coins into the poor ferret’s hat. Which at this point seemed to resemble an oversized sack.

The betting pool continued, as the students who wished to participate began filing towards the track and field lanes once more.

At which point, I cocked my head. 

“Another marathon?” I openly questioned. “I thought there’d be something different—”

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

The whole field in front of me shifted and contorted, with moving, static, tall, and impressively sized obstacles now populating the once-empty track.

“Okay, there it is.” I snickered out warily, as I turned inwards once again. “EVI?”

“Yes, Cadet Booker?”

“Reactivate sports mode. Go turbo.”