Faeil Academy buzzed with excitement over the extravagant prizes.
"A thousand gold *and* a spatial pouch for first place?!"
Even the smallest spatial pouch transcended monetary value!
"I'm signing up!"
"You? One spell and you're toast."
"That wastrel from Lightning Class registered! Compared to him, I'm a grandmaster!"
"True... Maybe I'll try too. Luck favors the bold."
The unprecedented rewards sparked a sign-up frenzy. Even apprentices rushed to enroll—everyone comparing themselves to Thunder, suddenly envisioning glory.
*Why's everyone dragging me?* Thunder fumed behind gossiping students. Yet his magic incapacity remained undeniable.
As matches neared, Beatrice and Eric trained obsessively—dawn to dusk, even lazy Beatrice rising early.
"This might be our last chance," she declared. Next year, advancing to intermediate mage would disqualify them.
Theory classes suspended. Professor Maria drilled the siblings relentlessly—casting until mana depletion, then meditating to recover.
Only Thunder lounged freely, skipping drills to hone his crafts.
---
On the tournament's eve, Maria granted a rest day. With time to kill, Beatrice suggested exploring Faeil City—a rare treat for the campus-bound girl.
Unshackled from her usual black robes, she wore a snug blouse and flowing ankle-length skirt, her swaying gait drawing stares.
"Where to?" Eric asked, equally disoriented by the outside world.
"Follow her," Thunder grumbled, regretting not staying home.
Beatrice raided snack stalls like Tifa, loading Eric with packages.
"Stop! Next year's tuition money!" Eric protested through mouthfuls of melon-like fruit.
"Says the one eating half!"
"Your tuition's that tight?" Thunder asked.
"Not all of us are landed gentry," Eric sniffed. The siblings earned fees through holiday missions and campus jobs.
"Hey, moneybags." Beatrice wheeled around, eyes gleaming.
"What now?"
"Buy me something."
"You've no shame!"
"None!" She pointed to a jewelry shop. "Just one piece! A rich guy like you won't miss it."
Eric rubbed his hands. "Two outfits for me. Spare coins welcome."
*Shameless leeches!* Yet Thunder relented—how *did* Beatrice own no jewelry?
The shop turned out to be where he'd bought Tifa's necklace. The manager paled, scrambling for the backroom until Thunder yanked him by the collar.
"D-Divine One! Just... inventory work!"
"Pick something for her. And no price gouging."
"Cheapskate," Beatrice muttered.
The manager produced a wristchain—crimson threads studded with jade beads that chimed like bells. Perfect for her vibrant spirit.
Beatrice slapped it on before bargaining.
Thunder eyed the trembling man. "Price?"
Remembering last time's extortion, the manager squeaked: "Fifty silver. Divine One... is this acceptable?"
---
**Will Thunder's generosity pay off—or will the tournament expose his limits?**