Magus Supremacy-Chapter 263: Let The Spar Begin!

"Now, time for the first assessment." Eric clapped his hands together, the sharp sound echoing through the training hall.

"I want you all to understand something clearly. During these assessments, I'll be taking notes of your performances and submitting them directly to your academy instructors."

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the group before narrowing on a single individual.

"And right now, one arrogant student already has a poor score for the first round," he said, his voice laced with disdain as his eyes lingered on Grey—who stood motionless, arms folded, eyes shut as though lost in meditation, completely detached from the surrounding commotion.

'Tsk. Filthy peasant dares ignore me. He doesn't realize the power I wield over his chances to compete in the tournament. I'll make sure he never steps into that arena,' Eric thought, his fists clenching at his sides before he turned away, masking his irritation behind a thin smile.

"The first assessment will be a sparring round between all of you," Eric announced. "I'll call out names, and those selected will come forward and engage in combat.

Remember—though there will be a winner and a loser, what truly matters is whether you survive the trials and make it to the tournament."

He paced slowly before the assembled students, then stopped abruptly as another thought crossed his mind. His eyes flicked toward Grey once again, then scanned the rest of the group.

"I know some of you are wondering why second and third years are being assessed together," he said, his tone growing sharper. "A fair question… but also a naive one."

He turned fully to face them, his hands clasped behind his back.

"This isn't about class year—it's about worth. About proving you deserve a place in the intra-academy tournament at all."

His voice dropped lower but grew heavier with each word. "Each academy has a limited number of spots available. That means it doesn't matter if you're a second year or third—you must fight for the right to even be considered.

You could be a third-year and lose your spot to a more talented second-year. Or a second-year crushed by superior experience."

He let the words hang in the air before continuing.

"The tournament will eventually separate you by year. But for now? You're just names on a list. And that list is about to be cut down."

His eyes glinted dangerously. "The ones who survive move on. The rest? Better luck next year… if you're still around."

"So prove yourselves. We're not here to babysit future dropouts—we're here to find the strongest. freēwēbnovel.com

The ones who will represent us in the intra-tournament… and eventually, the inter-tournament." Eric's voice boomed across the room, filled with command and weight.

"Now then, let the assessment begin!" he bellowed. "The first to step onto the stage—Dante and Drey. Please get up here!"

Despite using the word "please," there was nothing polite about his tone—it was an order.

Dante strode forward with calm confidence, his steps measured and precise as he climbed onto the wide, circular platform in the center of the room—the same one where Grey had once battled Instructor Magnus before their duel was cut short by a war mission.

Standing opposite him, Drey moved into place. The third-year student held his head high, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His nails were slightly elongated, and his confident posture betrayed no sign of hesitation.

'Dante, one of the top three third-years…' Drey thought, flexing his fingers. 'This should be fun. If I were to rank myself, I'd say I'm fifth overall. Facing off against someone like him? Impressive. Let's see what he's got.'

As he prepared, his body began to change.

His brown hair faded to pure white. His hands morphed, nails stretching into sharpened claws. His green eyes turned a luminous yellow as a feral smirk curled across his face.

The air shifted.

Grey's senses stirred. He opened one eye slightly, registering the rise in mana, then opened the other, fully alert.

'Transformation Magic?' he thought, interest flickering across his expression as he observed the shifting form on the stage.

'A rare and powerful ability… It's like Copy Magic, but instead of mimicking other mages, you can embody the forms of beasts you've encountered.

Some can transform partially, others fully. But the duration is always limited—and switching forms requires immense mana control. Judging by his aura, he's locked into this form for now.'

Grey's thoughts raced, his mind calling upon years of study. Back before he'd awakened his affinities, he had immersed himself in researching magic types—hoping to find one he could resonate with, if fate ever granted him a path.

But beyond that, he'd studied them to prepare. To understand. To defend.

'Know your enemy,' he'd told himself. 'The best counter to power is knowledge.'

And now, that knowledge stirred within him like a whisper from the past.

'Still… I never studied beast classifications. I don't know what creature he's mimicking. I'll have to observe and deduce his strengths and weaknesses from his movements.'

He stepped away from the crowd and leaned against a nearby wall, folding his arms as he prepared to watch the clash unfold.

'Let's see what he's got.' A smirk played on his lips.

Across the hall, Eric's eyes narrowed into a glare.

'Look at him. Smirking like a fool. Probably thinks he's lucky not to be called for the first round. What a coward. Weaklings like him don't deserve a place in the tournament.'

With a sharp breath, Eric turned back to the two fighters.

"The rules are simple," he declared, addressing Dante and Drey. "Catch your opponent's hand, touch their back, strike their face, or make them fall—any of those counts as a win."

Both students nodded, locking eyes with one another. The tension was palpable.

Dante stood still, composed and unreadable.

Drey crouched slightly, his clawed fingers twitching with anticipation.

Then—

"Let the spar begin!" Eric roared, swinging his arm down.

BOOM!

In a flash, both students launched themselves across the platform, their forms blurring with speed as the battle erupted.

___

{A/N}

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