If the sky fell no one would look away. Such defined the domineering nature of Annabella. Dragging the public eye with her antics. Was it through arrogance or confidence that she dared to divert the intentions of the showcase? Yet for for all the bravado she appeared as an ignorable pebble towards her target.

  Menor without a glance answered his companion's prior demand. The esoteric study of partial magic. Where arcadamian magi was derived from arcane, old and mysterious, and places of higher levels of education and research, acadamian. With magi literally being the world magic without its last consonant.

  The sight left Cymir puzzled. No matter what the gal said nothing would draw even a smidge of attention. While those of Orcer held greater pride than the people here there should of been a sense of rivalry. Perhaps his expectations were wrong?

  Growing agitated by dismissal into irreverence Annabella ran in front of her target carrying a scent of sourness. Led by ire she demanded to be heard. If not she would burn his corpse to nothing but ash. Yet for such a bombastic statement Menor only rolled his eyes. Seem the situation mirrored a child wailing to their guardian.

  "Bastard," Annabella said, "Know the common decency and reply when spoken to."

  "I'm busy," Menor replied.

  "Lies you speak. To come to the grounds, no less from the private area, means your pitiful authorizations exams met an end."

  "Busy."

  "It is known that there requires a period of waiting to review an individual's capabilities. Are you so foolish to fail to realize? Even jackals know when to starve."

  A small frown appeared on Menor's face. His gaze had long looked elsewhere. Not even attempting to snub the irritating flames, but instead letting it starve to smolders. However his companion held gleaming eyes that stroked those fires and gave arrogance fuel. So knowing the lass well, he threw in the towel. Caring not for such titles. However Annabella scoffed, claiming she needed no charity and would take it by force.

  Displeasure colored the man's face. With a sigh he gave an ultimatum. A dual between the pair where her victory claimed the pointless throne of greatest, but if he won she must sign over permissions to her Giciaman Seal. To those words the boasting lass froze.

  "Dullard," Annabella said, "To think an insignificant title pairs to the worth of my seal in your blind eyes. Shows you that-"

  "So you agree the title is paltry," Menor interrupted.

  "The intent was not-"

  "From birthrights to honors, collecting insignificant titles. How fitting. Must be hereditary."

  "Keep my heritage out of your sludge filled-"

  "Or what? Terrorize me with inherited merits?"

  Annabella seethed. The loss of her seal, even just permissions, would make her a disgrace, but as pride goes... Every attempt she made to rebuke turned into words of ridicule. Led into a linguistic loop, over and over, it was not long till she snapped. Grabbing his collar she agreed to the terms and dared a dual of combat. Roy, who just entered the area, authorized the battle. Her devious ears caught another intriguing diversion.

  In an instant the clash of their generation began. Astonished by the snowball of events Cymir could not help but grow wary of the viper-like tongue displayed. Rather silent stares than verbal abuse. Such thoughts were fleeting as he pieced together the day and occasion. Eagerly following the moment's stars to the field's center. A plethora of familiarity brought joy while others came with disdain. To think such an unseen grand stage was near.

  Despite her carefree attitude Roy quickly took authority of the public showcase. Convincing the recruiters, testees and examiners with a single line. Magi against Gicma. A clash of opposing magical arts of the southern continent. Despite a fair few complaints, curiosity overcame all. Although, since when did a receptionist hold such influence?

  Through meticulous coordination the staff cleared the fields while the crowed retreated further away. Only the dueling pair remained. Silent tension encroached the area as a fierce gaze met one of apathy. With a giddy stride Roy acted as the intermediary of the fight.

  "Hurry up Magi," Annabella spoke.

  "It's Magus," Roy cleared her throat, "Under my authority as a Magus of the Cadastral Association's Contractual Department. I authorize the dual between Menor of the Magnus Peninsula and Annabella of Orcer. All will be fair, but any fatal action will be scrutinized. These words are now known and must be respected. If any violation arise the respecting party will immediately be disqualify, forfeiting the bet. The match will end when a party is deemed in a state of loss. Discretion is mine!"

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Ignorant to the atmosphere, nausea took hold of Cymir. The sudden crowd and lingering magical energy filled his sense. Noticing the sudden illness a man approached with concern hidden by long bangs. Noticing the golden eyes past dark hair, paired with a youthful conviction, Cymir could not help but feel reassured. Soon recovered via controlled breaths, he thanked the man. He always knew what to do.

  Before anything else could be said, Roy launched herself through the air. Her demeanor softened as she yelled to begin- Annabella instantly roared a breath of flames. In the moments prior a glow sparked from her mouth and set her exhale ablaze. Scorching the grass as it traveled across the field. The audience recoiled at the sudden spike in heat, yet Menor simply clapped. A thin column of water condensed. Dividing the impending blaze and left a haven amidst the flames.

  Steam ruptured as the man maintained the slim line of water. Stings of vapor and scattered firelight among the bellowing air obstructed his senses. Not even stopping for a breath Annabella extended her arms and flashes of red flew from her fingertips. A flock of fire darted skyward and into the steam's heart.

  Those dozen fell upon the steam cloud and illumined it from within. The lass stopped her burning breath and began to pull magical energy from within. Pointing two fingers, she aimed and- dodged! A scorched block of earth skid passed with Menor a step behind. However a magical art unshot could be held. Lightning sparked from her fingers and roared out. Only for a dirt pillar to rise to intercept, yet the title of prodigy strove for more. The foot Annabella landed on summoned ferocious thorns.

  Responding in kind, Menor's hand clutched the air and dragged it. Steam and embers covered his form while retreating. Through the vapors an arc of icicles spiraled out. Missing the man by the slightest margin. Below a carpet of barbs chased.

  Magical energy flowed from and through Annabella's body. From her hands blistering hail screeched through the air. Increase the rate; hit hard and fast. Such a thought displayed the scheme the lass followed. The dual needed to end now!

  To her frost, the opposition met with a spot of heat and blanked everything in a thin mist. Once more birds of flame rain down at his vague silhouette. Between the burning flock lightning bolted out. Blocked by another column of dirt. Menor slammed his palm into the pillar. Shattering and shotgunning its fragments to pierce the avians. Such led to their midair detonation.

  Although the blast cleared away the lingering steam, Menor quickly yanked the visual impediment right back. That moment Annabella called forth a storm of magical arts. From spears of water to ground splitting hits. Her arsenal seemed endless, yet all for not if nothing hits.

  The lass began to wane. Unfocused volleys hastened her condition towards fatigue. The longer the fight drew the worse her chances became. Not due to her exhaustion, but her opponent’s growing magical influence on the arena.

  Irritating. All of them here were the same. No pride, no aim, no grasp for glory. Annabella who came here, to the Peninsula, to domineer faced nothing but irritation. The current opponent acted as the pinnacle of this feral display. Such a thought caused her to growl in anger.

  Darts of fire pierced through the steam. Not away, but towards the lass. Too soon! The counter attacked startled her. Stumbling a few steps back as instincts rang. As the bolts landed she pulled her cloak over her body. Under the momentary blast the blue cloth remained undamaged. Leaving only the heat's lingering roar and... splashes?

  "Really? Alloy threads?" Menor asked.

  Menor punched her. The single lapse in emotions acted as the cause. Akin to a storming river his fists ceased to yield. Each aimed towards her arms and legs. Knocking them away as their magics spiraled away. Realization struck as the the lass understood her mistake. Her opponent never intended to fully rely on his magical prowess.

  Bastard.

  With a swear a overflowing discharge of magical energy erupted from her body. Burning her internal stores of energy. The resulting explosion knocked Menor away. Under the breaths of exhaustion her clothes grew. Her cloak glowed sapphire and fluttered into a robe as a large brimmed hat formed upon her head. In her hands all the surrounding vapors condensed and formed a frozen staff. Her presences became defined as the temperature dropped with the scent of snowfall. Annabella entered Orcer's renowned, enhanced form.

  A smirk painted her face as she twirled her staff; leaving trails of water and ice. Forming into projectiles that were sent flying with a slightest of gestures. Walls of earth rose en masse with force. Unfazed a whirlpool swirled around from her feet and shattered the barrier. As more magical energy fed the vortex its edges grew more chaotic and sharp. Akin to a cyclone of swords. Finally slamming her staff into the ground and flooding the grass in a foot of water.

  "Your failure is expected," Annabella said, "In the face of true magic, false arts pale. Feeble controls snipped under a simple drizzle. No amount of magi could pierce this veil."

  "So blind," Menor replied.

  "Those words are denial of defeat. Admit your- hm?"

  Above. Turning her gaze upwards and Annabella saw Menor soar a distance above. The prior earthen control was not to protect instead to propel. Clasping his hands he pointed two fingers at Annabella and spoke two words.

  Summer's Flurry.

  Menor's internal magical energy surged while a blast of light descended. Yet despite the unexpected attack the lass already pulled up her robe via instincts. While the water nearby condensed into several layers of dense ice above her. In combat all forms of light originating from magic held a destructive nature… was what she thought.

  The world flashed white and then shattered into countless flakes of light. Unlike Cymir's, this one held a more exaggerated touch yet just as gentle. The unexpected results stunned every individual there. Although expectations were betrayed by the harmless magic, a voice arose behind Annabella.

  "How did you get down here?"

  Standing there Roy held back Menor's arm. In his hand a sharp icicle mere moments away from his opponent.

  "Same way you got here," Menor replied.