Trying to keep the scowl from his face, he stepped into the magical arena, his escrima sticks at the ready.

He'd been very excited about the mock duel. The rules were simple—elemental magic only. No spells not in the syllabus. No deadly attacks. No melee. A simple test of magical mettle. His specialty was illusion magic, not elemental magic, so the duel excited him; it was something different and fun that he wouldn't necessarily excel in. He could look forward to a good match!

Or he could've, if his randomly selected partner hadn't been his rival. His most hated person of all time. And it took a lot to get him to hate anyone—he was not the type. In fact, he was far more known for being genial, popular, and friendly. Just...this one student, for whatever reason, grated on the 14-year-old aspiring mage more than he cared to admit. It wasn't like this was the worst of the bunch at the Royal Academy of Magicks, but something just rubbed him the wrong way.

"May the best mage win," he muttered in a frosty tone, not meaning it in the slightest. Hell, he had half a mind to throw the duel just to not have to deal with the twerp any longer than he needed to.

It was not because he was still salty about the last time they'd sparred and his backside had been handed to him. No sir. That had nothing to do with his distaste for his academic rival! He was not the type of person to get hung up about such things. He was more mature than that. Yeah.

Either way, he was too much of a good kid to really sabotage the exercise, so all he could do was hope it ended quickly. Hopefully not with him turning into a laughingstock. He'd never admit it directly, but he really cared about his image, and the last thing he wanted was for his friends to spend the rest of the week teasing him about how he was losing his touch.

"Ready when you are." His escrima crackled with mana as he readied his first spell, and he put on a fake smile. Just deal with it, Grayson. Just deal with it. Bruce would be cool. He could be cool. Definitely.