Chapter 70: Mana Bands

Chapter 70: Chapter 70: Mana Bands

Rowan stepped up to the intake counter first, setting the Hoe of the World-Tiller squarely onto the runic glass scanner.

"Equipment class?" the registrar asked without looking up, his fingers flying across his glowing tablet screen.

"Agricultural tool. Rank C Hoe," Rowan replied evenly.

The registrar paused, blinking down at the heavy, runic-carved iron hoe, then at Rowan’s enchanted straw hat. For a brief moment, the clerk looked like he wanted to ask if this was a joke, but after the tense standoff with the Imperial cadets, he thought better of it. He pressed a runic tagging stamp onto the handle. A soft amber hum pulsed through the metal as Rowan’s weapon signature was officially logged into the tournament ledger.

"Sanctioned for arena entry," the clerk muttered, stamping the tablet. "Next."

Seraphina stepped forward, placing her alchemical field kit, containment vials, and reagent analyzers on the glass pad. The registrar scanned her hazardous sampling equipment and support gear, logging her class profile without issue. Barney unloaded his heavy toolset belt with a loud metallic clatter, while Caelen registered his gear with his usual relaxed swagger.

"Now, mana registration," the clerk instructed, gesturing toward a polished obsidian orb set into the marble counter. "Place your right hands on the nexus sphere one by one to register your unique mana frequencies."

Rowan placed his palm against the obsidian surface. A cool wave of magic washed over his hand as the orb flared with a deep, earthy green hue, recording his domain cultivator energy and Prime Human bloodline baseline. One after another, Seraphina, Caelen, and Barney touched the sphere, completing their squad’s magic registration.

Once the last flare faded, a small compartment at the side of the desk clicked open. Inside rested four sleek, matte-silver wristbands lined with micro-runic circuits.

"Sol-Aethel Squad 07, take your tournament bands," the registrar said, handing one to each of them. "Put them on now. They lock onto your biometric and mana signatures upon contact."

Rowan took his band and snapped it around his left wrist. The device gave a soft click, humming lightly as a faint blue light traced the rim before settling into a steady, subtle glow.

"These wristbands track your real-time location across the tournament zones and record your vitals for referee security," the clerk explained, tapping his tablet to sync their signals. "They also feature an emergency distress trigger on the inner clasp. Activating it will instantly summon an Imperial Royal Guard extraction team—though doing so will result in immediate disqualification for your entire squad."

"Understood," Rowan said, adjusting the band so it sat comfortably against his wrist.

"All registered," the registrar concluded, handing Rowan a glowing brass token stamped with the number seven. "Sol-Aethel Squad 07, proceed through Archway Three to the contestant staging grounds. Good luck out there."

"Thanks," Rowan said. He turned to his team, slinging his hoe over his shoulder. "Let me know if those bands bother your arms during combat. Otherwise, let me check our staging area."

Passing through Archway Three, Squad 07 emerged into the grand colosseum arena, where the scale of the upcoming tournament immediately took center stage.

Massive stone tiers curved upward toward the sky, capable of seating tens of thousands of spectators, while high above, floating runic projection spheres hummed into life, casting flickering test displays across the open air. Down on the sandy perimeter of the arena floor, dozens of arena technicians, Imperial staff, and runic engineers moved back and forth with urgent purpose—calibrating subterranean barrier wards, erecting heavy wooden barricades, and tuning the sensory arrays synced to the contestants’ tournament wristbands.

Rowan adjusted the strap of his hoe over his shoulder, holding the brass token stamped with the number seven as he scanned the bustling floor. The faint blue glow of their wristbands pulsed softly against the ambient magic lingering in the air.

"Looks like they’re putting the finishing touches on the environmental barriers," Caelen observed, nodding toward a group of mages embedding glowing mana crystals along the arena’s inner rim.

Seraphina glanced down at her wristband, testing its fit while taking in the high-energy atmosphere. "The mana density in here is artificially elevated. They’re likely preparing simulated terrain nodes for the trial matches."

"Whatever they’re setting up, we stick to the plan," Rowan said, gesturing toward a series of marked banners lining the staging zone ahead. "Staging Area Seven should be right over there. Let me check the layout so we know where to drop our gear before the opening announcements begin."

The cavernous arena buzzed with electric anticipation as thousands of academy cadets, visiting dignitaries, and press crews packed the rising tiers of the stands. Broadcast drones drifted overhead, their optical lenses pulsing red as live streams beamed the opening spectacle across the upper layers. Below, the elevated mana density hung heavy in the air, crackling softly against the inner barrier arrays sealing off the trial floor.

Then, the central arena floor ignited with light.

A dozen senior professors stepped into the open sands, their presence commanding immediate silence before launching into a masterclass designed to set the benchmark for the upcoming trial matches.

The Exhibition Match

Martial & Melee Mastery

Vanguard Arts: Blade masters blurred across the sands in fluid motions, their weapons carving arcs of compressed kinetic force through the air with deafening sonic cracks.

Heavy Combat: Defensive specialists showcased raw physical reinforcement, executing flawless parries and ground-shattering impact strikes that sent shockwaves rippling harmlessly against the reinforced barrier walls.

Ranged & Arcane Precision

Precision Marksmanship: Arcane archers launched light-infused arrows high into the arena dome, splintering into hundreds of homing mana needles that intercepted simulated aerial targets with zero delay.

Element Arrays: High-tier spellcasters wove hyper-dense fire lances and piercing ice spears into synchronized patterns, dazzling the cameras in a glowing dance of controlled destruction.

***

Back near Staging Area Seven, Rowan and his squad watched the display from behind the staging railings.

"Not a bad warm-up," Caelen muttered, crossing his arms with an appreciative whistle as a vanguard professor parried three elemental strikes in a single fluid turn. "Sets a pretty high bar for the crowd."

"The mana efficiency on those spell arrays is near-flawless," Seraphina noted, her spectrographic visor flickering as she analyzed the lingering energy residue. "They’re deliberately elevating the ambient mana density to make the incantations look more dramatic for the home viewers."

Rowan adjusted the brim of his enchanted straw hat, watching the residual embers fade over the arena floor as a roar of applause swept through the stands.

"Dazzling the crowd is fine for the opening act," Rowan said, checking his squad’s field gear one last time with a calm smile. "Our turn comes once the fireworks stop and the real terrain drops."