Chapter Nineteen
My mind buzzed with excitement, despite all the irritability and sadness I’d carried leading up to the showcase.
Mostly because I kept my telepathy latched onto the anxious joy oozing off my students.
This allowed me to stay active during the ceremony without wandering toward Milo’s mind, and it also helped stifle the loud surface thoughts of every other participant alongside the roaring crowd.
A thrilling shiver ran along my spine as contestants entered the auxiliary gym.
Staff like me, first years not participating, and esteemed guests—those we’d wrangled into coming—had already arrived and taken our seats in the makeshift arena bleachers surrounding the auxiliary gym.
Each of the students quickly absorbed the massive change of the equally distributed terrains shifting locations and the half-filled stadium surrounding them as they entered .
Curiosity stemmed from how the academy had moved everything around seamlessly while adding the stadium. A few guessed the correct magics at play: primal earth, cosmic transmutation, and high-tier enchantment spell craft. Easy enough to do but expensive as hell.
They were in awe at the turnout, which I did my best not to roll my eyes at.
The stadium seating only ever reached full capacity during the second-year Spring Showcase, and Gemini wasn’t hosting the event this year.
Not that we were on the docket to host the event, but administrators’ minds still buzzed with ways to change that.
Gemini took a particularly hard hit first semester, and their thoughts often matched the daggers they shot me with scornful gazes.
I wasn’t at fault, technically, but oh, how they still believed my Saturday training led to the warlock incursion along with the negative press Gemini received afterward.
Truthfully, I should’ve taken all the blame considering everything that happened was due to my ego. The arrogance of undoing the void vision, which worked, my one saving grace in my obsessive nature, and Milo’s coy tactics of altering events subtly.
Something he hadn’t been able to do during this demon case.
No. I clenched my fists, channeling telekinesis into the grip.
The telekinetic energy tightened my chest, squeezing my muscles and keeping me locked here and now.
There was a lot about Milo and his case I wanted to see unfold, but today had to be about the students.
Each of them worked so hard to get here.
Some more than others. Caleb followed the directions of proctors as they guided and ushered students to a starting point on an obstacle course event I abhorred.
The glass ceiling retracted, allowing the warmth of the sun to shine down on everyone.
In the center of the auxiliary gym, a massive four-sided screen—the type used during sporting events—hovered through the assistance of enchantments.
Small cameras floated throughout the gym guided by tech and telekinesis, zooming in on students and shifting shots from who appeared on the screen and when.
Caleb panicked when the camera landed on him. It was bad enough for him to see his face a hundred times larger in an expression he tried fixing—yet somehow made worse with each scrunched expression—but on top of that, the screen displayed their abilities and rankings for all to see.
He’d barely made it into the competition, and now everyone in attendance knew it, too.
I hoped he’d shrug it off as quickly as he’d done every setback thrown his way, but he dwelled during Chanelle’s enthusiastic opening speech to the crowd.
Her position had given her more esteem at every turn, and administration believed there was no one better to host. She was alive with spirit while explaining the first round in the showcase, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her admin only passed it on to her to avoid the hassle themselves. Even if I was still pissed at her.
“Arriving here is a momentous achievement,” Chanelle’s voice boomed through loudspeakers while she walked back and forth in front of the students who’d lined up. “There are many talents that brought each of you to this starting line today, but one above all the others.”
“ Don’t say it, ” I thought, biting back my telepathy before linking to her mind. Grumbling, I squeezed the bridge of my nose for the impending flood of doubt about to hit my mind.
“It’s your wonderful branch magics which allow you to rise to any challenge, which is why for this event—we’ll only be allowing the use of branch magics through the obstacle course.”
“ Great. I can’t even use my lackluster roots. ”
“ Yikes. Just my branch? ”“ Welp, I’m fucked. ”
“ There has to be something in my grimoire… ”
“ My branch was made for this. ”
“ You ready, King Clucks? ”
“ I got this, maybe, probably, hopefully. ”
“ I feel sorry for some of these witches. ”
“ I’m going to crush all these so-called wonderful branches. ”
“ No estoy seguro de que mis picos ayudarán mucho aquí. ”
“ She looks terrified. ”
“ I’ll be fine without a support tool. I’ll be fine. ”
Chanelle swelled with exhilaration in front of the audience, reliving and relishing the adoration while the students absorbed the rules of the competition.
“While a true guild witch thrives on collaboration, this is an independent challenge,” Chanelle explained. “Any witches caught casting root magics or collaborating will find themselves disqualified from finishing the obstacle course.”
This was the exact reason Chanelle had pissed me off.
I struggled to drown their thoughts as they absorbed the rules in place along with their dread.
Caleb tensed, all his immediate plans of grouping with Katherine fading away.
Most of the students, mine and everyone else’s, faltered hesitantly.
Every tiny plan they’d formed during the opening ceremony crumbled in desperation and fear for their own talents compared to those around them.
The academy model rewarded them for collaboration, and now they’d automatically fail for assisting or being assisted.
Two minds spiked above the others, utterly thrilled by the independence factor.
It forced them to alter their initial strategy in seconds, yet Kenzo Ito and Jamie Novak glared at their squirming classmates unfortunate enough to compete alongside them.
“Sometimes, a guild witch’s most important job is carrying themselves independently in a harsh industry.” Chanelle spoke lightheartedly, yet something piercing stabbed at her.
I bit my lip to keep from softening my rage toward her.
Something about her guild history bubbled high the instant those words left her lips.
She eyed me, burying the thoughts. Paranoia on my part.
Her mind went blank. I shook it off. Chanelle could’ve been glancing at any of the hundred people in my direction.
Eyeing any eligible enchanters, I figured she’d likely looked this way to captivate them as opposed to concerning herself with my innate eavesdropping.
She’d never concerned herself before… Why bother now?
“I wish you all luck to be one of the first eighty to cross the finish line!” Her enthusiasm matched the roar she unleashed along with the buzzer.
Students scrambled at the starting line, uncertain how much of their branch to rely on now and how much to hold back for the last push. This would be a slaughter for those who lacked branches that offered speed, dexterity, strength, or amplified magical advantages beyond physical comparison.
I’d never ranked in these showcase events, never bothered for exactly these types of reasons.
Showcasing branches didn’t necessarily mean heavy hitter magics, yet academies and guilds never gathered that sense.
Physically, some of the kids would keep up.
Christ, Milo and Finn catered to a similar event our second year and showed everyone why they were more than their psychic branch.
“See you all at the finish line,” Jamie shouted, pulling me from my memories.
“Guess you won’t have that high ranking much longer.” Jamie sneered at Kenzo, creating a whirlpool behind himself that’d take him a quarter of the way across the obstacle course.
I huffed. One of Mrs. Whitehurst’s students. Of course this test was built for his magic. He’d cross the finish line before any of my students made it to the first course.
“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you should talk less,” Kenzo snapped. “Your voice is grating, and your magic is slow.”
An intentional jab meant to infuriate Jamie—and it worked.
For someone who thrived on his own rage, Kenzo knew exactly how to provoke it in others, which sent a thrill thumping through his chest, knowing he could incite anyone and throw them off their game.
Maybe that was where some of his hatred for Caleb stemmed.
He provoked and provoked, and yet Caleb, his former friend, never struck back.
Gray static popped, zapping the swirling water and then Jamie’s wrists, where he channeled his branch magic.
Kenzo played Jamie for a fool. I didn’t even need to scan his thoughts to know he’d studied Jamie and every other student who ranked in the top 160.
Hell, a competitive kid like Kenzo probably had all 600 first-year students memorized.
The fact he’d struck the specific location Jamie channeled his branch from was proof enough.
“I’d say see you at the finish line, but none of you rejects deserve to make it off the starting line.” Kenzo unleashed a rapid flurry of gray static.