POV Of Aaref Fayworth: 

That man... I thought. There’s something special about him. Despite his attack earlier, his magic doesn’t seem to align with fire or explosions. And for a second, before that last attack that hit him, I could’ve sworn I saw the tiles around him form a shelter around him. 

“Ryenn Everblade,” I said to myself. 

Despite fighting someone who now exceeds the capabilities of a C-rank adventurer, he’s been holding his ground. For a newcomer, that damn well puts him at least around C-rank—possibly B-rank. 

Their fight continued with multiple exchanges of blows. Left and right, the two were fisting it out. Marcel tended to use magic in half of his attacks, but Ryenn never displayed another showing of his magic throughout the exchange. 

Slowly the advantage of the fight became apparent as Ryenn was tiring out and Marcel continued relentlessly attacking him. Landing a solid blow across Ryenn’s face and sending him to the ground, Marcel began taunting. 

“I see,” he said. “You had a couple tricks in your bag,” he laughed, “but that’s not the case anymore. Perhaps your magic revolves around counterattacks or defense.” He put his hand underneath his chin and rubbed it as he thought. “Quite useless, in fact. All it took was two big attacks and you’re drained. Pathetic,” he spat on the ground. 

Ryenn stood up from the ground. Refusing to back down, he slowly marched forward. 

“While it’s true, that my ‘magic’ may be just a big bag of tricks or perhaps useless, let me show you my true power,” Ryenn responded. 

I could feel my eyes widen a bit. Was his magic more special than I thought? It’s not possible that he possesses two magical attributes. 

The area within the arena became engulfed by the presence of a calm storm. The winds slowly winded up as it circumnavigated the whole arena. Finally, accumulating within the middle of the fighting stage, twin tornadoes materialized around Ryenn. 

“Wind Magic: Dance of the Cyclones,” he said softly. 

“Impressive,” I said. 

The crowd began roaring. Just when they thought they foresaw the outcome of the fight, Ryenn turned the tables against them and put Marcel on the opposing end. Standing up, death-gripping the seats in front of them, the crowd watched eagerly. 

Possessing a larger mana pool than most commoners, Marcel began channeling his mana. An aura of flames emerged around him and fought to maintain its existence. The intensity of the flames increased to the magnitude in which everybody’s skin glowed a reddish tint. The heat could be felt around the whole arena as if the spectators were right next to its source. 

“Flame Magic: Fireball!” 

The flames around Marcel disappeared as he channeled them from the nearby area into his mouth and out toward his opponent. 

The immense heat increased further as the strong flames crashed against the almost impenetrable winds. The clash itself spewed flames outward. The tiles of the fighting stage began rising into the winds until they were being tossed around by the powerful cyclones. Having appeared to be a powerful deadlock, the two attacks succumbed to each other and left powerful gusts of winds that knocked most people back. 

On the far-left end of the arena, I noticed a handprint burned into one of the tiles. Analyzing it for a brief moment, I concluded that Ryenn was not using magic prior to his most recent attack. After all, I would have sensed his mana if he did. 

Clearing my throat, I announced the winners. 

“Victorious in this round, I declare—” 

*Thump* 

Both bodies collapsed on the ground. 

“I declare this round to be a tie,” I said with a firm smile. “Both of these competitors will be treated by the adventurer’s society and continue their standoff in the next round.”