1 1. Volatis the Damned!

The bi-annual magic tournament. A goal I chased in hopes to change my status, though standing here seven years ahead of schedule was never my intention. All to rescue my best friend from a hostage situation.

'No turning back now…'

I've been the target of discrimination my entire life. Part of me wished to be left alone, away from this corrupt society.

The arid smell of iron and dust kicked up throughout the colosseum. My odds of fame were only a few wins away. This might bode well, were I on equal footing. However, not possessing magic has sealed my fate.

"Ladies and Gent's, let the tournament commence!" An announcer flew in the sky, providing him with the aerial advantage of giving play by plays.

Cheers boomed, with the entire arena rattling as the scent of bloodlust filled the air. There was not a single contestant around or even close to the age of thirteen. My entry was rigged behind the scenes, allowing me this chance at death. I believe the age restriction for participation started at twenty last I heard, or perhaps too naive by not hearing of anyone younger ever entering and surviving. This was the only condition to be met and not for the sake of risk involved, but purely for entertainment purposes. With age came experience and there-in more fun for the spectators.

The sight beyond the announcer caught my eye. On the high seats, they sectioned off an area for important individuals. Out of the group the girl being held down into her seat was my one and only best friend, Arisa and the reason I'm here. The others were the brats that took her as hostage. I wondered how they found this amusing. Picking on the weak must be a well-known tradition taught around the world. If not, I'm just the unluckiest person around.

"First contestant onto the platform. Choose your opponent!"

A vigorous yell from the contestant rising to the top of the flat squared arena detested my name.

"Those without magic that dare tarnish the arena shall be slaughtered! Volatis!"

Thinking back, out of all the numbers drawn mine was twenty-four. I had the best possible number. I could avoid continuous battles so long as no one chose me as an opponent right from the start. I can't believe this is happening. I'm actually being called on first!

'Focus!'

The constant training and suffering in life fueled my drive to rid of the neverending disadvantage. My expertise in various martial art skills was something I could rely on.

Booing vulgarities echoed as I climbed the steps to the top of the arena floor. The vibrations coursing through my legs caused my heart to yelp in fear, but stayed in check when set beside my desire to survive. In the center stood a 6'11" well-defined muscular mountain of a man, towering more than a foot above. It worried me that my first opponent not only had magic, but might also be skilled in close combat.

'I wonder what kind of magic? Only one way to find out.'

Entering a low stance and waiting for my opponent to make the first move was not my style. The best move was the first one. The rumbling of an orient cultured bell initiated the start of the match.

Not a moment later, I blitzed my target and struck my palm to chin. Without realizing, I dropped from his field of view as the fighter fell to the ground from one strike planting him onto his backside. I shocked the audience with this simple feat that lasted no longer than a matter of seconds.

I stared at the announcer as he frantically shuffled with his microphone trying to announce the outcome and advance the tournament. Looking over into the stands I saw Arisa surrounded by surprised and angry faces, that most likely lost their bet from the outcome. I guessed their goal was to coerce me into entering this tournament, making some pocket change in the process of killing me off.

All eyes settled, filled with absolute disbelief. The announcer rushed over to inspect the fighter on the ground. Their medical staff ran past, carrying the unconscious body away. I waited in the arena to see if the next contestant would choose me. The announcer called the next number to select their opponent.

"Volatis!"

The next fighter in line shouted my name, landing gracefully onto the arena platform. Against flight magic I knew what would happen, so I started to consider my options.

I unsheathed both of the daggers along my waist. The only means against someone I couldn't even touch. The bell rang again and before it even signaled the start of the match, he was already flying tens of meters above the arena. I was helpless in front of this guy. To make matters worse, he casted ice magic. The ice shards slowly enveloped, covering half of the arena. He flew circles in the air intentionally being careful to avoid any possibilities of a ranged attack.

Even if I wanted to throw my dagger at him, it would never connect. He's too high up! I cursed my luck as the only option was to be backed into a corner. The amount of magic used to cover the entire arena in ice had to be taking a toll on his mana reserves. I continuously dodged and watched his movements. I guessed right! His casting time and period in-between each spell drastically lengthened. Only a matter of time until his flight magic exhausted in conjunction.