In 632 Feyn Imperial Calendar, the Empire held its 593rd Martial Magic Tournament. The event had first been held in the 11th Imperial Calendar Year, but wars had forced it to be canceled twenty-eight times over the years.
This year's final would be fought between Donald Wien, an Intermediate Magic Apprentice from Tris Province, and Minofarel, a Formal Knight from Kope Province.
Judging solely by their ranks, one could almost say for certain that the latter would take first place. But after several matches, especially the bouts against Pas and Quisar, the Magic Apprentice from Tris Province had already surprised everyone time and again.
Even some people claimed he still had an ace up his sleeve: the Magic Staff he had only raised at the last moment during his match against Quisar. Of course, the vast majority thought it was nothing but baseless speculation.
Even so, in the betting pools raging inside and outside the Imperial Arena, Donald's odds were already markedly lower than Minofarel's.
That showed just how much the people believed in this extraordinary young man from the Emperor's Hometown.
At that moment, the young man had just stepped into the arena for the final, and tremendous cheers had already erupted from the stands.
"Donald Wien! Donald Wien..."
It took Donald a moment to realize that the name tens of thousands of people were shouting was his own. Though he was a man of calm temperament, even he couldn't help feeling his blood surge.
"Minofarel! Minofarel..."
When Mino entered the arena in Silver-white Armor, his golden hair gleaming, the cheers that greeted him seemed a little less thunderous than Donald's. Mino showed no displeasure, though. He even walked up and gave Donald a hearty hug.
"I'm glad I get to fight you. I'm from the south too, from