Maxwell massaged his brow with a patient yet exhausted headshake. "Listen here, Adam. The performance of the House of Exorcism worsened year after year compared to the other two. Let's set personal talent aside to focus on measurable metrics. Do you have the numbers? Last I checked, there were five transmuters and ten invokers for each exorcist. Even if we factor talent back in, to win the competition, each one of you must outperform fifteen students. Of course, there are mediocre ones, but do you believe your house has none?"

His eyes narrowed into solemn slits, his voice heavy with advice that sounded genuine to Adam. "If you insist on challenging ten students, if you lose ten thousand five hundred points today, only a miracle, and that's a euphemism, can help your House compete with the other two. So, for the last time—are you sure?"

"Framed like that..." Adam scratched the back of his neck, the corner of his lips curving.

"As long as you understand. Now, pick a more reasonable number of adversaries." Maxwell said, nodding. But when Adam continued, his nod froze, and a vein on his temple throbbed so hard that it gave Adam the impression it would burst.

"I should have challenged fifteen students. Can we still change?"

An outrage broke out among the students behind him, and in front, Maxwell roared. "You're just like Astride; arrogant, believing your strength is all that matters. Yesterday's insignificant victory against Dorian went to your head. Guess what? He's far from the strongest duelist." He glared at the six students who had stepped forward and called four more. "And they are far from my best students. But these ten will show you the difference. We're not duelling. We're simulating wars!"

A furrow creased Adam's brow as he asked, "Where are the strongest then?"

"You'll go where they are in a year, two at most. Enough chit-chat. Here are the rules: the plain is the battlefield." He handed Adam a green crystal the size of his forearm and as thick as his waist, then the same one to the other team. "Artefacts, constructs, spells—use every means to protect it. But remember: you must set it up on the plain. Running around with it is forbidden. The first team to destroy the other's crystal wins. You have fifteen minutes to set your defences up and come up with a strategy. Good luck."

The teacher's tone was definitive by the end, but Adam heard him whisper, "Crush them," to his ten students.

Throwing the crystal up, Adam chuckled on his way to Desmond and Elliot. The strongest students tugged at his mind, though, but he would learn about them after winning the challenge.

"So?" Desmond smirked, a hand on his hip, the other stretched between them. "How do we attack?"

"Yeah, let's attack. So they can destroy our crystal while the others outnumber us." Elliot snickered as he moved away from the crowd of students. "Let's get as far as possible."

With a nod, Adam followed. Too many ears. Not that he already had a plan, but the outline took shape in his mind. "The opposite team has seven extra members. They believe victory is already theirs. Most would consider an all-out assault: nine versus three. Just one defender."

Desmond tucked his fingers around his chin. "They're making it easy for us, then. Leave defense to us and go get their crystal."

Adam shook his head. "A few won't agree. They'll likely send seven attackers and leave three defenders."

"No matter what we do, they'll outnumber us." Elliot massaged his brow. "And it's not like Desmond and me can match any of them."

"Does it matter? One or three, you'll defeat them all the same." Desmond shrugged, his gaze locked with Adam's.

Adam rolled his eyes. He could. He wouldn't. Victory had meaning only if he defeated them by their own rules. Nothing as noble as wanting a good fight, perhaps a bit of fair play, mostly so no one could say he cheated. Well... to have fun, too.

"Look here, Desmond." He curled a finger, his voice playful. "I have excellent news for you. You'll be the one attacking them."

"Me?!" Desmond pointed a trembling finger at his dropped jaw.

Before he could continue, Adam interrupted. "Yes. You. What happened to your confident boast about watching you break through their defences?"

"You mad blue bastard. How do you want me to defeat three archmages?"

"Can you even defeat one?" Elliot added, his serious question biting Desmond more than Adam's playfulness.

"Burn me, Elliot. I can't. Neither can you. Find someone else to get beaten up," Desmond hissed, crossing his arms over his chest and beginning to flip Adam the middle finger.

Adam shrugged casually. "Fine. I'm sure you'll do better defending against seven archmages, then."

Desmond's middle finger froze, and his lips twitched as Adam continued. "Aren't you fast, Desmond? I'm sure you can keep three archmages busy. It could also be just one if they're foolish."

"I'll try." The teenager gave a begrudging nod.

"Elliot," Adam turned toward the boy. "Yesterday I showed you self-confidence. Today, this will be the first step in forging your own. Fetch your golem. You'll need it."

"I-I trust you, but don't count on me too much," Elliot muttered, then rushed to the dormitory, clearly aware that fifteen minutes were short and that even though he let Adam see his lack of confidence, the boy still wanted to play a major role in their victory.

Adam liked Elliot's mindset. A bit pessimistic, but who wouldn't be in a ten-year-old boy's shoes? Inexperienced in battle, outmatched in spells, three ranks lower. And yet, he would make the boy not only win but also engrave this victory into his memory.

But first, the crystal. If they wanted to destroy it, they would be in for a surprise.

"Step aside, Desmond. I'll be back soon."

It began to hover the moment he placed it over the ground. They were around six hundred meters away from their adversaries. A distance he considered fair. He waved his hand, coating it with earth shields, magma domes, and mana barriers.

Not enough.

With a snap of his fingers, the plain rumbled beneath his feet. Soil rose into walls hardened with basalt. Spiralling towers protruded from a gothic fortress, looking like the spikes jutting from the spine of a colossal magical beast.

He stood in one room, forming his second layer of defense: a shifting maze. It took some time, but the surprises he had prepared were worth it.

Before he could prepare his ultimate trump card, however, he heard Elliot call for him.

Once back outside, he patted the boy's shoulders, leaning in to whisper. "Desmond is bait. Dig underground. Wait for the perfect opportunity to destroy their crystal."

"They'll notice me!" Elliot's eyes widened, his arms tightening around his miniaturised golem.

"They will. You're the second bait, after all. But the golem? Too small, too unexpected. I know you can do it, Elliot. And that comes from someone who knows he can be the best, so it means a lot."

Elliot gave a solemn nod. "Like the day we forged the golem, I won't doubt anymore. I'll do it. But don't underestimate them, Adam." He pointed at the bastion's tall walls. They don't need to get inside. Blasting the building and the crystal with it is enough."

"Let them try." As Adam shrugged, Maxwell's voice reverberated through the plain.

"Time's up. Let the challenge begin!"

"YAHOOO! They'll beat me up, but not before I drive them crazy!" With a roar, Desmond shot toward enemy territory, eyes alight with mischief.