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The booming voice from earlier was louder than ever. And no matter how badly people wanted to keep their eyes peeled on the immediate crash of the two finalists, the spectators felt the need to abruptly cover their ears as the voice echoed over the stands.

“This... How unexpected!” The announcer was the first to say anything next, baffled by what he saw. But he didn’t get a chance to say more before that booming voice softened slightly and continued.

“This match is hereby over!” stated Jarrit. Suddenly standing at center stage, the dean chuckled and looked to the two young men on either side of him. Both were currently hovering in the air, entirely stationary and immobile.

“But...” Burt complained, eyeing the dean as all of his fun was dashed the moment it had been found.

“The winner is Oliver!”

“WHAT?!”

.....

Collectively, nearly the entire audience shouted in unison along with the hosts and many fallen competitors in the waiting area.

Jarrit repeated himself confidently, “The winner is Oliver! There’s no doubt about that!”

“Dean Jarrit,” Lizbeth exclaimed as she descended onto the stage, “I don’t see your reasoning in this decision. I agree that the match is over, but Burttin is the–”

“Oliver is the clear winner. It’s obvious by that energy there.” While Oli worked to calm down and start dispersing his essence and energies, the dean pointed and explained, “Not many are familiar with this energy, including yourself, Lead Assistant Lizbeth. We’ve also never seen someone so young show such talents across the history of the territory.”

Whispers and hushed voices spilled out of the crowd as people tried to interpret the meaning of the dean’s unexpected words. The other hosts were silent, however, though they were also descending to the stage to better hear out their old professor’s explanation.

“Believe it or not, what Oliver was using are soul arts.”

“WHAT?!” Lizbeth shouted, eyeing the fading ethereal energy around Oli’s hands.

Dean Jarrit continued, “Had I allowed these two to collide, Oliver would’ve been greatly injured but Burttin would have been in far worse shape. Even if he wouldn’t eventually die from the side effects of such an attack, Burttin might have become a crippled cultivator, ruining his limitless potential. Though Burttin has shown more affinities than anyone ever exhibited in the territory, he sadly ran into another hidden genius with a perfect counter to his many essences.”

“But without–”

“You won’t be continuing the match,” Jarrit stated, solemnly eyeing Burttin. “Despite what you think, you wouldn’t have hurt Oliver as much as you would’ve anticipated. Or am I wrong about your dark essence’s nature, Oliver?”

Tapping his staff on the ground, Jarrit let both Oli and Burt fall to the stage floor. “Oliver, if you could please summon that same level of essence around one of your hands, please... And Burttin, please carefully approach Oli’s hand with your sword at the ready... Now, make a simple slice across Oli’s palm and see what happens.”

Burt was annoyed to be treated so lightly. But he played along nonetheless.

Oli also did as he was told, though he didn’t like how the old dean was forcing him to show his secrets in a public demonstration.

“Watch carefully, Burttin, Lizbeth...”

At first, there was nothing special going on, at least not at first glance. Burt’s sword glided through Oli’s essence and reached his palm. But that’s when they noticed something strange about Oli’s dark essence. Like a viscous liquid, the dark essence had begun to ooze up the blade, corroding not only the Burt’s light essence but also his dark essence.

“Of course, you would’ve dealt Oli a critical blow and would’ve forced him to stop fighting. But his peculiar dark essence would’ve kept the damage minimal, likely only wounding him physically without facing the effects of your powerful combination of essences, Burttin,” reasoned Jarrit, baffling the others on the stage who could see the effects of Oli’s strange dark essence. “And seeing how his essence was enough to corrode through yours, Burt, imagine what would have happened if Oli’s soul attack would’ve landed along with his claws of dark essence? Would you be able to walk away from the side effects of such a blow?”

Lost in thought, Burt blinked over and over. He looked back and forth between his sword and Oli’s hand, which was no longer covered in essence or soul energy.

“Excuse me, Dean Jarrit, but I’m not comfortable with you revealing my secrets in front of the entire territory...”

Smiling softly, Jarrit turned to Oli and offered a humble bow. “Please forgive my need for the demonstration, but I’m sure you’ll soon understand why it was necessary. I do agree that no more demonstration is needed, nor will anyone argue over me declaring you the victor...”

Getting a slight nod from the dean, the ref pulled the cone back toward his mouth, shouting to the heavens.

“OLIVER IS THE WINNER! Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the upset of a lifetime! Two geniuses dueled before our eyes, both fully qualified to win any tournament, yet fate pitted them against each other to offer a spectacle we’ll never forget!”

Cheers rang out again as the crowd was no longer stopped by the hosts, and many were swayed by the dean’s convincing words. The noble families in particular were astounded by what the dean had to say about the competition.

“Impossible!? That’s–”

“We warned you!” Jonon’s booming laughter was heard by anyone around him, even getting many nearby to join in. “Never doubt the honor of the Practor Family, let alone my father’s judgment!”

“It has to be rigged! It has to be–”

Reginol immediately shut up and did his best to relax as a familiar hawk suddenly landed on his shoulder. It then held out its leg, waiting for Reginol to take the small scroll wrapped around it.

Carefully undoing the paper, Reginol smiled and nodded to the bird but it didn’t leave just yet. It waited for Reginol to read the paper and tense up anew.