The remaining matches in the second round proceed without much fanfare, the contenders engaging in duels that showcase their skill and creativity but lack the raw spectacle of the earlier fights. As the dust settles and the arena is prepared for the semifinals, I find myself standing in the waiting area, going over my strategies.
The semifinals are announced, and the crowd's excitement builds once again. My name is called, along with my opponent's—an average-sized unicorn stallion with a deep green coat and a cutie mark resembling a glowing rune. His name, if I recall correctly, is Verdant Glyph. Normally, I'd think nothing of it—just another opponent. But when I step into the arena, it's clear something's off.
Verdant Glyph looks nervous. His hooves shuffle on the tiled floor, and his horn flickers faintly as he prepares his precast spell. His eyes dart to me briefly, then away again, unable to hold my gaze. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why.
The incident with Brimstone.
I don't miss the way the crowd murmurs as I take my place across from Verdant Glyph. The memory of my last match still lingers in the air, the burst eardrums and the crowd's disapproval fresh in everyone's minds. It's clear that the reputation I've inadvertently built has started to weigh on my opponents.
The referee steps forward, her expression neutral as always. "Combatants, prepare your precast spells."
Verdant Glyph lights his horn.
I stay still, my horn silent. The referee glances at me. "Kinetic Flux, will you be precasting a spell?"
I tilt my head, letting a forced sly smirk play on my lips. "No. And trust me, you wouldn't like me to change my mind."
The crowd stirs at my response, their whispers carrying a mix of surprise and expectation. Verdant Glyph looks even more unsettled, his nervous energy palpable.
The referee raises her hoof. "Combatants ready? Begin!"
Verdant Glyph doesn't waste a second. His barrier snaps into place, a glowing dome that crackles faintly with stored energy. It's defensive, it's clear he's already on the back foot, expecting an immediate assault.
I don't move right away, watching him carefully. My horn flares faintly as I assess the situation. I could overpower him outright, but after what happened with Brimstone, I need to tread carefully. There's no reason to risk hurting him—at least, not physically.
An idea forms, and I focus on the floor beneath his barrier. My magic reaches out, subtly tugging at the forces holding the stone together. Slowly, quietly, I create a small hole, just wide enough to slip through unnoticed. Glyph, too preoccupied with his next spell, doesn't seem to notice.
I levitate a small amount of of chalk dust from my bag, guiding it through the hole and beneath his barrier. The moment it emerges on his side, I make it oscillate rapidly, creating a faint but unsettling hum. Glyph startles, his horn flickering as he glances around, visibly unnerved.
"Stay calm, Glyph," I murmur under my breath, though he can't hear me. "You're just giving me more to work with."
The chalk's oscillations intensify, the sound growing deeper and more resonant. Glyph hesitates, clearly distracted, and I seize the moment. My horn glows brighter as I activate the Doppler illusion, wrapping his head in a swirling veil of refracted light. The chalk becomes a dome, forming a distorted, chaotic landscape around him—a twisted approximation of hell.
Flames and brimstone erupt around him, their hues vivid and unnatural. The monsters I conjure are grotesque amalgamations of nightmares: towering figures with elongated limbs that end in claws too sharp to be natural, their faces featureless save for wide, gaping maws filled with jagged, uneven teeth. Shadows writhe like living things, taking on shifting forms that seem to grow closer every time Glyph blinks.
One creature stands out—a hulking, sinewy beast, its skin glistening with a sickly red sheen. Its elongated limbs end in razor-sharp claws, its face a gaping maw filled with jagged teeth, and a perpetual, bone-chilling grin. Another monster, smaller, scuttles on too many legs, its movements unnaturally jerky. Its skin seems to shimmer, flickering between translucent and solid, revealing pulsating organs beneath.
Glyph's breathing grows ragged as he stumbles back, his spells forgotten. The illusion intensifies as I use my telekinesis to create a tube-like barrier in front of my mouth, lowering the pitch of my voice to a deep, otherworldly rumble.
"Before there was time… before there was anything… there was nothing," I intone, my voice echoing unnaturally.
Glyph freezes, his eyes wide with terror as he looks around frantically.
"And before there was nothing… there were monsters."
The crowd watches in stunned silence, unaware of the specifics but sensing the gravity of what's unfolding. Glyph's knees hit the ground, his horn dimming and the shield falling entirely as his magic fails him. He's trembling, tears streaming down his face as he cries out, "No… no, I'm a good pony! I don't deserve this!"
I press on, the illusion shifting around him, the flames licking closer as the monsters loom ever nearer. "You cling to goodness, Glyph? Can you feel it now, slipping away in the presence of such horrors?"
He drops to his knees, his horn sparking as if trying to cast a spell but failing. The fear in his eyes is palpable, his confidence utterly shattered.
"Please!" he begs, his voice cracking. "I surrender! I'm a good pony! Get them away from me!"
The referee steps forward, waving her hoof sharply. "Stop! Kinetic Flux, stand down! Verdant Glyph has surrendered!"
I release the illusion immediately, the monstrous landscape vanishing in an instant. Glyph collapses, trembling on the arena floor, his eyes wide and unblinking as he clutches his chest. The crowd is dead silent for a moment before breaking into scattered murmurs. Their discontent from my previous match now seems to have turned into outright disapproval.
I stand there, a frown slowly forming on my face, my chest tight with a mix of anger and disbelief. I didn't lay a hoof on him, but the fear in his eyes suggests I might as well have.
With each heavy step back to the examinees' bench, the weight of their stares and whispers bears down on me. Their murmurs trail behind me like accusingly, their unease cutting deep. My heart pounds, not from the fight, but from the injustice of their scrutiny—how far I have to go to secure a victory in a 'pony' way.
Verdant Glyph is led off the arena floor, still trembling as the medics check him over. The referee announces my advancement to the final round, but the words barely register. I slump into my seat, the wooden bench creaking faintly under my weight. Around me, the remaining examinees give me a wide berth, their expressions a mix of wariness and disdain.
I don't care. Not about them, not about the crowd, not even about the judges.
The next matches are called, but I barely pay attention. The sounds of spells colliding, the cheers and gasps of the crowd—they're background noise to the storm in my head.
Eventually, the semifinals narrow down to the final two: Radiant Glow and me. She strides back to the waiting area, her head held high and her fiery mane glowing faintly in the arena's light. She glances my way, her smirk sharp and self-assured, as if daring me to try my tactics on her.
The tension between us is palpable, even from across the waiting area. She's confident, likely because she knows how to use her artifact to devastating effect. I don't doubt her skill. But I'm not about to let her win easily. Not after everything I've put myself through to get this far.
"Final match: Kinetic Flux versus Radiant Glow!" the referee announces, her voice cutting through the noise of the crowd.
I push myself to my hooves, my body moving almost mechanically. The murmurs among the crowd grow louder as I step onto the arena floor, their unease now mixed with anticipation. Radiant Glow takes her place opposite me, her smirk unwavering, her artifact already glowing faintly as she prepares.
The referee looks at us both, her expression stern. "Combatants, prepare your precast spells."
Radiant Glow doesn't hesitate, her horn flaring as she begins to weave a complex spell. Her artifact hums with energy, its glow intensifying. She's going all out, clearly aiming to end this match decisively.
I stand still, my horn silent, my expression unreadable.
"Kinetic Flux, will you be precasting a spell?" the referee asks, her tone neutral.
I shake my head, masking the weariness with a smile. "Nah. I like to keep things spontaneous."
The crowd stirs again, their whispers growing louder. Radiant Glow's smirk widens slightly, as if she's already won.
The referee raises her hoof. "Combatants ready? Begin!"
The arena falls silent, the air charged with anticipation as the final match begins.
Radiant Glow stands tall as the match begins, her horn flaring brilliantly as she casts a shimmering shield that envelops her entirely—including the ground beneath her. It's a smart move. She's clearly been paying attention, learning from my earlier tactics of bypassing shields through the floor. The crowd murmurs appreciatively at her ingenuity.
I take a moment to assess. A shield like that is tough, no doubt, but it's also energy-intensive. Fine. I'll force her to play my game.
I reach into my bag, pulling out a small amount of chalk and compressing it into a dense, pebble-sized projectile. My horn glows faintly as I focus, accelerating the tiny chalk mass to an absurd velocity—my railgun 'spell'. But I aim carefully, targeting the edge of her shield rather than the center, away from her body. No point in risking harm unnecessarily.
The pebble releases with a sharp crack, its velocity so extreme that the air around it ripples faintly. The projectile slams into her shield with tremendous force. The impact isn't just a hit—it's catastrophic. The shield shatters like glass under a hammer, sending radiant fragments of magic spiraling outward in a burst of energy.
The crowd gasps as the pebble doesn't stop there. It strikes the arena's protective barrier, punching through it with a resounding crash before disappearing about an inch beyond the shield. Clearly, the arena has safeguards to prevent projectiles from causing real damage outside its bounds. Still, the display leaves the audience in stunned silence.
Radiant Glow staggers, a pained expression crossing her face as the magical backlash from her shattered shield hits her.
She recovers quickly, gritting her teeth as she activates her artifact. The pendant flares to life, and I know in a moment a concentrated laser beam will shoot toward me. Her movements are calculated—she's aiming for precision and power, clearly trying to end this before I can retaliate.
But she's not the only one who's learned from previous matches.
I've been watching her for a while, studying how she fights. Her beams are fast, deadly, and precise—a challenge for anyone relying on conventional defenses. I can't use shield spells like most others, so I've had to think outside the box. I knew this moment would come, and now, it's time to see if my theory holds.
I focus on the air between us, my horn glowing brighter as the gas ionizes in an instant, ripping electrons from their atoms. A with a deafeningBOOMa brilliant white-blue curtain of plasma erupts , the searing heat radiating outward in waves.
The beam from her artifact strikes the plasma curtain but fails to penetrate. Instead, the photons scatter, their energy absorbed by the superheated, ionized gas. The light of her laser dims as it dissipates harmlessly into the plasma. Another beam meets another shield. She fires seemingly endless beams as Radiant's expression shifts from determination to visible frustration as her trump card is rendered ineffective. Though I try not to show how draining it is, I'm not wholly unaffected.
With Radiant Glow's shield gone and her artifact neutralized, I decide it's time to end this. My horn flares as I gather the remaining chalk from my pouch, compressing it into a series of small, dense pebbles. The effort is precise, the chalk forming perfect spheres as they hover in the air around her, glinting faintly under the arena lights.
The crowd holds its breath as I move the pebbles into position. One by one, they encircle Radiant Glow, orbiting her at different heights and angles. Their slow, deliberate movement is designed to be intimidating, each one a reminder of how quickly I could turn the tide if I wanted to.
Radiant Glow's eyes dart to the pebbles, her horn glowing faintly as she considers her next move. But she hesitates, clearly calculating the risks. One wrong move, and the chalk could strike—not as hard as I hit the shield, but enough to ensure her defeat.
"Radiant Glow," I rasp, dragging up a smirk despite the burn in my lungs. "No shield, no artifact, no way out. Care to make this easier for both of us?"
She glares at me, her fiery mane seeming to blaze brighter with her frustration. For a moment, it looks like she might try something desperate, her horn sparking as if to cast another spell. But the pebbles around her shift slightly, tightening their orbit, and she freezes.
The crowd watches in tense silence, the energy in the arena thick enough to cut with a knife. Even the judges seem on edge, their expressions unreadable as they observe the standoff.
"Truly a worthy effort!" I say, keeping the strain out of my voice. "But I'm afraid the curtain's falling on your act. Time to take a bow and call it quits, hmm?"
Radiant's eyes narrow, her pride clearly warring with her sense of self-preservation. Finally, with a heavy exhale, her horn dims, and she raises a hoof.
"I surrender," she says, her voice strained but clear.
The referee steps forward immediately, raising her hoof. "Winner: Kinetic Flux!"
The crowd erupts into a mix of cheers and murmurs, the tension giving way to an uncertain excitement. I release the pebbles, letting them fall harmlessly to the arena floor as I step back, my chest heaving slightly from the exertion.
Radiant Glow shoots me a sharp look as she walks past, her pride clearly bruised. "You're good," she mutters, her voice low enough that only I can hear. "But your luck won't hold out next time."
The roar of the crowd is deafening as the referee declares me the winner. I step back, sweat dripping down my face as the weight of the tournament begins to sink in. It's over. I've won. The tension that's been my constant companion throughout these trials begins to fade, replaced by an odd mix of relief and unease.
Radiant Glow strides off the arena floor, her head held high despite her defeat. Her parting words linger in my mind, but I push them aside. This wasn't about pride—it was about survival, about proving myself. Or at least, that's what I tell myself.
As I glance toward the judges' booth, expecting some semblance of acknowledgment or approval, my chest tightens. They're not cheering, not even clapping. Instead, they're conferring quietly, their expressions grim and serious.
Sunny sits with her serene mask firmly in place, but her eyes betray her disappointment. Stonehoof looks outright irritated, his thick brows drawn together as he gestures emphatically. Ivory Quill's sharp gaze is fixed on me, her lips pressed into a thin line. Even Zuri, usually calm and measured, wears a faint frown, her head tilted in thought.
The stark contrast between the crowd's celebration and the judges' somber demeanor makes my stomach churn.
I step off the arena floor, my movements automatic, and head back toward the waiting area. The noise of the crowd fades as I sit down, my legs heavy, my mind racing. The weight of their judgment presses down on me harder than I'd expected.
Had I gone too far?
Glyph's terror-stricken face flashes in my mind, followed by the image of Brimstone clutching his ears in agony. I hadn't meant to harm anyone. But intentions don't always align with outcomes, do they?
The moments after the final match pass in a blur. When I'm called to the podium to accept the victory laurels, the applause feels hollow, as though it's meant for someone else. The judges approach, their expressions still dark, and the crowd's cheers taper off as the mood shifts.
Sunny Smiles steps forward first, her voice calm but edged with a seriousness that feels foreign from her usual tone. "Congratulations, Kinetic Flux. Your ingenuity and strength have secured your victory. But…"
The word hangs in the air, heavy with implication.
Stonehoof crosses his forelegs, his gruff voice cutting through the silence. "You were reckless. That pebble of yours could've hurt somepony in the audience if the safeguards hadn't kicked in."
Ivory Quill's sharp voice follows. "Your treatment of Verdant Glyph was unnecessary. Cruel, even. Intimidation is one thing, but making a fellow unicorn believe he's been sent to Tartarus? That goes beyond the spirit of this competition."
Zuri nods, her tone softer but no less firm. "Your talent is undeniable, but your methods… they lack discipline. Magic is a tool, Kinetic Flux. A dangerous one. Wield it without care, and you risk becoming a danger yourself."
I clench my jaw, keeping my face neutral. Inside, though, the words cut deep. I didn't mean for things to get out of hand. I was just trying to give it my all. Is that such a crime? I don't know how to explain it without sounding like an excuse, so I stay silent.
Sunny tilts her head slightly, her expression softening. "You have great potential, Kinetic Flux. But potential is only as valuable as the choices you make. Consider today not just a victory, but a lesson."
I nod slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I… understand."
The crowd's murmurs fade as Sunny steps forward, her presence commanding even in her assumed guise. Her serene smile is gone, replaced with an air of gravitas that makes the weight of her next words even heavier.
"While your victory in the tournament is undeniable, Kinetic Flux, the path of an Archmage is not determined by strength alone," she says, her voice carrying over the stillness. "Discipline, restraint, and wisdom are equally vital. And it is in these areas that we must still see your potential."
Her words sting, even though I can't argue against them. I remain silent, waiting for her to continue.
Stonehoof steps forward next, his gruff voice filling the air. "So here's the deal. One last test. One last chance to prove you've got what it takes to be more than just raw power."
I look up at Stonehoof, his steely gaze boring into me. He gestures for me to follow, his tone carrying no room for argument. "Come with us."
The judges lead me out of the arena, away from the lingering murmurs of the crowd. The hallways of the colosseum grow quieter with every step, the echoes of our hooves on the stone floor the only sound. After a few turns, we arrive at a massive, heavy door flanked by two royal guards.
Stonehoof gestures for the guards to open it, and the runes shimmer faintly as the doors creak inward, revealing a large, dimly lit chamber. The room is stark, its only illumination coming from faintly glowing orbs along the walls. Inside, tables and shelves are lined with materials: steel, iron, wood, rope, crystals, enchanted metals, and even a few seemingly mundane items like chalk and parchment.
In the center of the room stands a metal pull door. Unlike the entrance, this one radiates an almost oppressive aura. Its surface is blank, lacking the runes the other door had.
Sunny steps forward, her voice calm but firm. "This is your final test, Kinetic Flux. Before you stands a door that has been enchanted to be impervious to nearly every spell and force we could devise. Your task is simple: open it."
"Simple," I echo under my breath, my tone dripping with irony.
Sunny's gaze sharpens slightly, but she doesn't respond. Instead, she gestures to the room. "You may use anything within these walls. There are no rules, save for one: you may not leave this room. Doing so will end the test, and you will fail."
Stonehoof steps up beside her, his gruff tone filling the chamber. "We'll be watching. No hints, no help. Show us what you've got."
Zuri and Ivory Quill remain silent, their eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. It's clear they're here to judge not just my abilities but my approach. Every move I make will be scrutinized.
I take a deep breath, stepping into the room. The door behind me closes with a heavy thud, the sound echoing ominously. The judges follow, taking up positions near the walls to observe.
I turn my attention to the enchanted door.
Great. This is going to be fun.
I glance around the room, taking stock of the materials. Steel and iron loops catch my eye first, along with a small anvil and a set of basic forging tools. On another table, I see crystals humming faintly with stored magic. There's wood, rope, chalk, parchment—everything a unicorn might need for crafting or experimenting. The sheer variety is overwhelming, but I know I need to focus.
First, I test the door's limits. I try a simple telekinetic pull, but the door absorbs the force effortlessly.
The judges remain silent, their gazes heavy on my back. I can feel their scrutiny, their expectation.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself as I grab a piece of chalk from one of the tables. The simple material feels familiar in my magic, grounding me amidst the storm of thoughts racing through my mind. Grinding the chalk into a fine powder with my telekinesis, I refill my chalk bag. Truthfully I dont think I'll use it, but I wanted it so I took it.
The door looms in front of me, its stillness practically daring me to try something unconventional. I focus on the air around the door, my horn glowing faintly as I vibrate the particles, generating an intense friction that heats the surface. The door remains unchanged.
Good. Let's see how it handles the opposite extreme.
Without hesitation, I reverse the process, forcing the air particles to slow and lose energy, rapidly freezing the surface. Frost crawls across the middle of the door. The door begins to creak under the temperature shift. A faint crackling sound echoes through the chamber, and I allow myself a flicker of hope. It's working.
I press on, amplifying the vibration and freeze cycle, alternating between the two in rapid succession to stress the material further. Small fractures form along the surface of the door. The cracks widen, and the sound of warping metal fills the room.
But then, as suddenly as they appeared, the fractures vanish. The door shines brilliantly, and the cracks knit themselves back together with a smooth, almost fluid motion. It's as if the door simply rewound time, undoing the damage entirely.
I stagger back, my chest heaving. The door stands as pristine as ever, its surface once again unmarred. I glance at the judges, expecting some reaction, but their faces remain impassive. Not a word, not even a raised eyebrow. They're giving me nothing.
Frustration claws at me, but I shove it down. They're testing me, waiting to see what I'll try next. Fine. Let's give them something worth watching.
I turn back to the door, my gaze narrowing as I reach into my chalk bag. Pulling out a small pebble I'd previously compressed, I hold it aloft in my telekinesis, feeling the dense weight of its potential. This spell has never failed me before, and if there's even a sliver of hope that brute force might crack this thing open, I'll take it.
"Step back," I say, glancing over my shoulder at the judges. My voice is calm, steady, but it carries the weight of a warning.
They don't move, nor do they react in any visible way. Stonehoof's stony expression remains unchanged, Zuri watches me with her serene yet calculating gaze, and Ivory Quill's sharp eyes remain fixed on the door. Sunny Smiles—Celestia—stands still, her serene demeanor as impenetrable as the door itself.
Ignoring their silence, I turn back to the task at hoof. The hum of vibrating air grows louder, the tension in in the room thick as I align the shot. With one final push, I release the pebble.
The air cracks like a whip as the pebble shoots toward the door at an incredible velocity, the force of its movement creating a faint ripple in the air. But as it reaches the door, something unexpected happens. Instead of shattering the surface or even leaving a mark, the pebble vanishes. Gone. No impact, no sound. Just… nothing.
For a moment, I think I see a faint flicker of light out of the corner of my eye, coming from where the judges are standing. My head snaps toward them, but they're exactly as they were—still, silent, watching. No one has moved.
I turn back to the door, my mind racing. Whatever this thing is, brute force isn't going to cut it. Fine. If I can't break it, I'll try something else. Something more… unconventional.
My gaze sweeps over the materials in the room, finally landing on some iron loops. An idea sparks—one I'd been toying with before but dismissed as impractical. It's time to see if I can turn theory into practice.
Grabbing one of the iron loops with my magic, I lift it into the air, focusing intently as I begin to work. Using telekinesis, I manipulate the electrons within the iron, forcing them to move. Sweat beads on my forehead, and my horn begins to ache as I pour more energy into the task.
Minutes drag by, but eventually, I feel the shift. The loop begins to hum faintly, a subtle vibration coursing through it as the magnetic field strengthens. It's crude and not nearly as efficient as it could be, but it's enough. I push harder, amplifying the field until the pull is unmistakable. The magnet is strong now—strong enough to tug at the heavy enchanted door.
I aim the magnetic field toward the door, keeping it just off the surface. At first, nothing happens. But then, with a groaning creak, the door begins to shift. The door flares brighter, but the magnet's pull doesn't relent. I spare a look at the judges.
The judges exchange glances, their previously unreadable expressions betraying a flicker of unease. Ivory Quill's sharp eyes narrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. Stonehoof's usual scowl deepens, and even Zuri tilts her head slightly, her calm demeanor wavering.
The door groans louder, moving incrementally under the strain. My chest tightens with effort as I push the magnet to its limit, the energy required becoming almost unbearable. But then, with a shuddering heave, the door moves further—just enough to reveal a sliver of the space beyond.
I glance back at the judges, expecting them to intervene or give some reaction. Sunny Smiles remains stoic, but there's a tension in her posture that wasn't there before. Ivory Quill looks downright nervous, her hoof twitching faintly as if resisting the urge to step forward.
Before I can process their reactions fully, I look back at the door—and freeze.
The door is closed again. Not just closed—sealed. The mechanisms untouched, as if the last few moments hadn't happened at all. The space itself feels… off, like the air has shifted subtly. It's as if reality itself adjusted, undoing my progress.
I pull back and release the magnet, my horn dimming as the iron clatters to the floor. My breath comes in sharp gasps, exhaustion pulling at me as I stagger back. The door remains unyielding, its surface unchanged.
My mana is running low.
From behind me, I hear a faint sound—a sigh of relief. I glance back to see Ivory Quill exhaling softly, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. It's subtle, but it's there.
What the hell is going on? Why would she be relieved? What are they not telling me?
The room falls silent again, the door standing as resolute as ever. My mind churns with frustration and confusion, but one thing is clear: this test is more than just about opening the door. Something else is at play here, and I'm running out of ideas.
I stand there, staring at the door that seems to defy every effort I've thrown at it. My breathing steadies as I take a step back, letting the silence of the room settle over me. My horn aches from overuse, and my thoughts feel scattered, like puzzle pieces scattered across a table. But one thing sticks in my mind—the judges' reactions.
They're not just observing. They're involved.
Ivory Quill's sigh of relief, the faint flicker of light I caught earlier, the unease when the door moved—it all adds up. My gaze drifts to them, standing impassively along the walls. Each of them is watching me closely, their expressions carefully neutral. Too neutral.
It's not just the door I need to solve. It's the situation.
I close my eyes, letting the events of the test play back in my mind. The seemingly impossible door, how the test is meant to show I'm not just all magic muscle, the unspoken hints in their behavior, the fact that they, too, are within this sealed room. None of it makes sense until I look at it from a different angle. If the test is just about opening the door, then why are they in here with me? Unless…
The realization hits me like a bolt of lightning. They're keeping the door closed. The test isn't about breaking the enchantments. It's about something else entirely.
Friendship.
The word feels foreign, almost laughable, given the intensity of everything leading up to this moment. But as I glance back at the judges, their calm, expectant faces, it starts to make sense. The lessons from the tournament, the way they emphasized discipline, restraint, and being more than just a force of nature—it was all building to this.
I take a deep breath, turning fully to face them. My voice is calm, measured, as I ask the question I've been dreading.
"Would you mind opening the door, please?"
The silence that follows is deafening. For a moment, none of them move, and I wonder if I've miscalculated. But then, slowly, Sunny steps forward, her serene expression breaking into a warm, genuine smile.
"Of course, Kinetic Flux," she says, her voice carrying a note of approval. "All you needed to do was ask."
The glow of her horn is soft, almost gentle, as she casts a spell. The door shimmers, and with a quiet creak, the door swings open, revealing a simple corridor bathed in soft, golden light.
The other judges step forward, their expressions more relaxed now. Ivory Quill smiles faintly, her sharp features softening. "Magic is a powerful tool," she says, her tone carrying a hint of satisfaction. "But it is not the only tool. Wisdom lies in knowing when to use it—and when to rely on others."
Stonehoof grunts, crossing his forelegs as he nods. "A lesson a lot of mages forget. You can't always brute force your way through life."
Zuri steps closer, her calm gaze meeting mine. "Strength and intelligence are vital, but humility and trust are just as important. You have shown all four today."
I look at them, a mix of relief and frustration swirling in my chest. "So this whole thing… it wasn't about opening the door at all, was it?"
Sunny Smiles shakes her head, her smile widening. "The door was a metaphor, Kinetic Flux. A reflection of the challenges you will face as an Archmage. Some problems cannot be solved with power alone. The people around you are just as important as the spells you cast."
I stand there, letting the weight of their words settle over me. The idea of friendship as the key to the test still feels a little… contrived.
Sunny Smiles steps forward, her regal composure now undeniable. Her magic flashes briefly, and her disguise melts away, revealing her true form. She regards my lack of surprise with a calm, knowing expression, as though she'd expected it all along.
Celestia gestures toward the now-open door. "Shall we?"
The judges step aside, motioning for me to walk through. The corridor beyond glows softly, the golden light almost inviting. I steel myself and step forward, the judges following close behind.
As we move, the light grows brighter, the hum of the crowd outside growing louder. The path opens into the colosseum once more, and the cheers of the audience explode around me. I blink against the sudden brightness, the sound washing over me like a wave. The arena is packed, every seat filled, and the energy is electric.
"Ponies of Equestria," she calls out, her voice amplified but still serene. "Today, we gather not just to witness strength, skill, and ingenuity, but to celebrate the values that define us as a kingdom: wisdom, courage, and the ability to connect with one another. Kinetic Flux has demonstrated these qualities, proving himself worthy of the title of Archmage."
The crowd's applause feels almost surreal. I force a calm smile, though my chest feels tight. As I step forward, Celestia nods, her horn glowing as a golden laurel appears in the air before her.
"With this, I formally appoint you, Kinetic Flux, to the rank of Archmage," she says, her voice ringing with authority. The laurel lowers gently onto my head, and the crowd roars their approval.
The spotlight is on me now, and I can't resist the call of the crowd. Bowing deeply, I sweep my hoof theatrically across my chest. "Thank you, thank you," I say, my voice carrying just the right amount of playful arrogance. "I humbly accept this honor… though, between us, I did have a suspicion I was destined for greatness."
A ripple of laughter moves through the crowd, cutting through the overwhelming noise. Even Celestia raises an eyebrow, her serene smile showing a hint of amusement.
"But of course," I continue, straightening up, "such achievements are never reached alone. My thanks to the judges for their… illuminating lessons and to my fellow competitors for the, ah, spirited competition."
More laughter, more cheers. It feels oddly comforting, leaning into the performance, turning the focus away from the weight of what just happened.
Celestia nods approvingly as I turn back to the judges. Their expressions range from mild amusement to begrudging approval. Even Ivory Quill, sharp as ever, seems to be holding back a smirk.
As I look out over the crowd, the cheers washing over me, one thought lingers in the back of my mind.
What now?
The moment feels like it should be triumphant, but my chest tightens as Celestia steps closer, her serene gaze sharp and unyielding. She gestures to one of the attendants, who brings forward a small scroll, its edges trimmed with gold and bearing her royal seal.
"Kinetic Flux," she begins, her voice calm but carrying that unmistakable authority that makes every word land like a decree. "As tradition dictates, a unicorn Archmage of Equestria must demonstrate mastery over the Flarebound Missive spell—an essential tool for direct communication with the crown."
The crowd falls silent, their collective gaze drilling into me. I force a smile, tilting my head in a show of casual curiosity as I accept the scroll with my telekinesis.
Shit.
"Of course, Your Majesty," I reply smoothly, unrolling the scroll and scanning its contents. My stomach knots as I read.
"Scriptum volat, caelum secat,
Verbum meum longe vehat.
Igne sacro nunc feratur,
Ad destinatarium transitur.
Draconis flamma duce viam,
Mandatum perveniat I am."
The spell's instructions are simple, deceptively so, yet completely alien to me. A mental chant in Latin, a relatively simple visualization pattern, and intent focused on establishing a magical link. It's the kind of magic I've avoided my entire time in equestria. I'm painfully aware of my limits—telekinesis is all I've got. No chants, no patterns, no skill outside of brute manipulation of matter.
"Ah," I say, clearing my throat. "A classic spell, no doubt. Though I must admit, I wasn't aware it was part of the tradition for unicorns alone."
Celestia's smile doesn't falter, but there's a glint in her eyes. "Indeed. A long-standing tradition, one that demonstrates not only magical skill but also the Archmage's commitment to maintaining communication and collaboration."
I nod, rolling the scroll up with deliberate precision as I stall for time. "Naturally, naturally. A fine tradition, one that I'm honored to uphold."
I pause, looking up at her with a carefully measured expression. "Though I must confess, Your Majesty, I wasn't entirely prepared for this particular spell. You see, my training has always focused on, shall we say, practical applications. Combat spells, environmental manipulation… the kind of magic one might use in the field."
Celestia's expression softens, but only slightly. "The Flarebound Missive is practical, Kinetic Flux. Communication is a cornerstone of effective leadership, wouldn't you agree?"
"Of course!" I say, forcing a laugh that sounds just a bit too loud to my ears. "Absolutely. Communication is vital. And I assure you, I am fully committed to learning this spell."
"Excellent," she replies, her voice carrying just enough warmth to feel like a trap. "You may proceed whenever you're ready."
I freeze for half a second, the crowd's expectant silence pressing down on me like a physical weight.
"Well, the thing is," I begin, rubbing the back of my neck with a hoof in what I hope comes across as endearing awkwardness, "it's been a… taxing day. The tournament, the final test… my magical reserves are, shall we say, running on fumes. I'd hate to fumble such an important spell due to sheer exhaustion."
Celestia raises an eyebrow, her smile tightening ever so slightly. "An understandable concern. However, I've observed you throughout the tournament, and your magical stamina appears… substantial."
I laugh again, a strained sound that earns a few chuckles from the crowd. "Ah, well, appearances can be deceiving, Your Majesty. A bit of cleverness can go a long way in conserving energy, but even I have my limits."
"Limits we're eager to see you overcome," she says smoothly, gesturing to the scroll. "The spell is straightforward enough for a unicorn of your… experience."
The implication isn't lost on me, and I'm painfully aware of how closely she's watching, how the crowd's silence is starting to feel like a noose tightening around my neck.
"Well, then," I say, rolling the scroll open again and scanning its contents as if studying it intently. "A brief moment to gather my thoughts, if I may?"
Celestia inclines her head, her expression unreadable. "Take all the time you need."
The problem is, I could have all the time in the world, and it wouldn't matter. My mind races as I try to concoct a plausible excuse, a way out that doesn't unravel everything I've built.
I unroll the scroll again, pretending to study its intricate diagrams and symbols with exaggerated care. Behind the façade, my mind works furiously. There's no way out of this—not without a plan, not without a trick.
My focus casually drifts to one of the small pouches held to my side, the one filled with finely ground chalk powder. It's a precaution I always carry, though I never expected to rely on it in front of the princess herself.
"Fascinating," I murmur, pretending to examine the scroll's arcane script. "You know, Your Majesty, spells like this remind me why magic is such a profound art. So many layers to it, so much… subtlety."
Celestia's serene smile doesn't waver, but her gaze sharpens. She knows I'm stalling, but she isn't calling me out—yet.
"Subtlety is indeed vital," she says. "It is the mark of a true master."
"Quite right," I reply, nodding as I subtly tilt the scroll to shield my actions. With a flick of telekinesis, I unseal the pouch and coax out a thin stream of chalk dust, keeping it low and out of sight.
The crowd is still silent, the weight of their collective attention pressing down on me like a physical force. No pressure. None at all.
I hold the chalk dust just below the scroll, forming a near-invisible cloud. My telekinesis begins to oscillate it rapidly, creating the foundation for my favorite trick: the Doppler Illusion.
"Now then," I announce, forcing a confident smile, "let's give this a try, shall we?"
Celestia tilts her head slightly, her curiosity barely masked.
I close my eyes for effect, pretending to focus intently. The mental chant? Not happening. The visualization pattern? I couldn't replicate it if my life depended on it. Instead, I concentrate on the chalk dust, oscillating it faster and faster, manipulating the light and air around it.
A faint green glow begins to shimmer at the edges of the scroll. The crowd murmurs, the sound a low wave of anticipation.
I let the glow intensify, the chalk particles scattering in a controlled burst that simulates the effect of the scroll catching fire. The illusion of green flames dances along the parchment, consuming it in an ethereal blaze.
The crowd gasps, and I hear Celestia's sharp intake of breath.
"Remarkable," I say, my voice calm and steady as the "burning" scroll begins to disintegrate in the air. With a precise flick of telekinesis, I make it vanish completely, simulating the teleportation effect I've seen Spike use countless times.
But I'm not done.
As the last of the "flames" flicker out, I make the scroll reappear in front of Celestia in a flash of green light—No longer a solid thing, but a series of vibrating particles. The scroll looks pristine, untouched, exactly as it was before.
The crowd erupts into cheers, but Celestia doesn't reach for the scroll. Her eyes are locked on mine, sharp and searching.
"Well done," she says, her tone light but laced with something unreadable.
I incline my head modestly, forcing a confident smile. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I'm glad the demonstration met your expectations."
Celestia's gaze lingers on me, and I feel a bead of sweat roll down the back of my neck. The crowd's applause is deafening, but it does little to drown out the sound of my heartbeat hammering in my ears.
"I must admit," she says slowly, her voice carrying an edge of curiosity, "your execution was… unconventional. I've seen the
Flarebound Missiveperformed many times, but never quite like that."
"Ah, well," I say with a chuckle, waving a hoof as if brushing off a compliment, "unconventional is something of a specialty of mine. A bit of flair never hurts, wouldn't you agree?"
Celestia's lips curve into a faint smile, but her eyes remain sharp. "Indeed. Still, the spell seemed… different. It lacked the usual residual magical signature."
My stomach flips, but I keep my face carefully neutral. "A side effect of my particular style, no doubt," I say breezily. "You know how it is—every mage has their own… unique touch."
Her smile doesn't falter, but there's a knowing glint in her eyes that sets my nerves on edge. "Unique, indeed. Tell me, Kinetic Flux, what inspired you to modify such a foundational spell?"
"Ah, inspiration is a fickle thing," I reply, leaning into my act with all the confidence I can muster. "I suppose you could say I saw an opportunity to innovate. Magic is an art, after all—why not make it my own?"
"Why not, indeed," Celestia murmurs, her gaze unwavering.
The scroll hovers between us, suspended in my telekinetic grip. I know better than to let her take it—it's nothing more than compressed chalk and air, a fragile illusion that would shatter under the lightest touch. But the longer I hold onto it, the more suspicious she'll become.
With a flick of my magic, I send the scroll spiraling into the air. It vanishes in a flash of green light, eliciting another round of cheers from the crowd.
"There," I say, turning back to Celestia with a bright smile. "All accounted for. A seamless delivery, if I do say so myself."
Her expression remains unreadable, but there's a faint twitch at the corner of her mouth, as if she's suppressing a smile—or perhaps a laugh. "Seamless, indeed."
For a moment, we stand there, locked in a silent battle of wills. The crowd's cheers begin to die down, their attention shifting as the announcer steps forward to address the audience.
"I must say," Celestia continues, her voice low enough that only I can hear, "you've surprised me, Kinetic Flux. I wasn't sure what to expect, but you've proven… resourceful."
"High praise from the Princess of the Sun herself," I reply, keeping my tone light. "I'm honored."
Her gaze sharpens, and for a moment, I feel as though she can see right through me. "Resourcefulness is an admirable trait, but it's not a substitute for honesty."
My smile falters, just for an instant. "Honesty, Your Majesty?" I ask, feigning innocence.
"Honesty," she repeats, her voice soft but firm. "A trait I value highly in those I place my trust in."
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. I swallow hard, forcing myself to maintain my composure.
"Of course, Your Majesty," I say, inclining my head. "Honesty is a virtue I hold in the highest regard."
Her smile returns, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I hope so, Archmage. I truly do."
And with that, she turns, leaving me standing in the center of the coliseum, the weight of her words pressing down on me like a lead cloak.
The crowd cheers again, but this time, it feels distant, almost hollow. As I bow and wave, my mind races with questions and doubts.
She knows.
Author's Note:
plasma shield
Adjusted shield thickness (t_shield) = 0.015 m (1.5 cm)
Beam power (P_beam) = 10,000 W (10 kW)
Beam diameter (d_beam) = 0.1 m
Plasma temperature (T_plasma) = 5,000 K
Initial air temperature (T_initial) = 300 K
Air density (rho_air) = 1.225 kg/m3
Specific heat capacity of air (c_air) = 1,005 J/(kg·K)
Energy required to ionize air (E_ionization) = 4.8 10(-18) J per molecule
Molar mass of air (M_air) = 0.029 kg/mol
Avogadro's number (N_A) = 6.022 10(23) molecules/mol
The beam is sustained for 1 second
Step 1: Calculate the shield volume
r_beam = d_beam / 2 = 0.1 / 2 = 0.05 m
V_shield = pi (r_beam)2 t_shield
Use pi 3.14159
V_shield = 3.14159 (0.05)2 0.015
V_shield 1.18 10(-4) m3
Step 2: Calculate the mass of air in the shield
m_air = rho_air V_shield
m_air = 1.225 (1.18 10(-4))
m_air 1.45 10(-4) kg
Step 3: Calculate the energy to heat the air to 5,000 K
Q_heating = m_air c_air (T_plasma - T_initial)
T_initial = 300 K
Q_heating = (1.45 10(-4)) 1,005 (5,000 - 300)
Q_heating 6.86 J
Step 4: Calculate the energy to ionize the air
n_air = m_air / M_air
n_air = (1.45 10(-4)) / 0.029
n_air 5.00 10(-3) mol
Molecules = n_air N_A
Molecules = (5.00 10(-3)) (6.022 10(23))
Molecules 3.01 10(21)
Q_ionization = Molecules E_ionization
Q_ionization = (3.01 10(21)) (4.8 10(-18))
Q_ionization 14,448 J
Step 5: Total energy required to maintain the plasma shield
Q_total = Q_heating Q_ionization
Q_total = 6.86 14,448
Q_total 14,455 J per second
By setting the shield thickness to 1.5 cm, maintaining the plasma shield requires approximately 14,455 J per second.
