Surviving the Magic Academy With Just Intelligence Stats-Chapter 91: Lysander Blackvale & Leon Steelheart

The great crystalline display board glowed with an ethereal blue light, projecting the names of the next combatants across the arena. Lysander Blackvale’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he spotted his team’s designation. He straightened the already immaculate collar of his academy uniform, adjusting his posture to project the dignified bearing expected of House Blackvale’s second son.

"Lysander Blackvale’s team versus Claire Wintermist’s team on Platform Two!" Professor Lancaster’s amplified voice boomed across the arena.

Lysander turned to his teammates with a measured nod. "Follow the formation as practiced. Remember your positions." His tone brooked no argument, each word precise and deliberate. Edwin and Thomas exchanged quick glances but said nothing, while Sarah and Maria simply nodded their assent.

As they approached the platform, Lysander assessed his opponents with calculating eyes. The Wintermist team specialized in ice-based abilities—formidable in their battlefield control and potentially troublesome if allowed to establish dominance. Claire herself, a poised young woman with frost-blue eyes, met his gaze without flinching, her bearing suggesting minor nobility.

Commendable confidence, Lysander thought, but ultimately misplaced.

He stepped onto the platform with unhurried confidence, his bearing that of someone who had never questioned his place in the world’s hierarchy. The protective barriers hummed to life around them, sealing the combatants within.

"Begin!" Lancaster declared.

Claire immediately launched into action, her teammates spreading into a diamond formation. Crystalline frost began spreading across the platform’s surface, the temperature dropping precipitously as ice structures erupted from the ground.

"Edwin, disruption pattern," Lysander commanded calmly.

Edwin responded instantly, producing a series of rapid hand signs that sent waves of energy across the platform, disrupting the ice formation’s growth patterns. The frost structures faltered momentarily, giving Thomas the opening to advance with his shield raised.

What followed was a precisely orchestrated dance, each of Lysander’s teammates executing their roles with practiced efficiency. Maria laid down covering fire from the rear, while Sarah maintained a constant stream of minor healing and enhancement spells.

Yet despite their coordination, the Wintermist team proved unexpectedly resilient. Claire adapted quickly, restructuring her ice formations to counter Lysander’s strategies. Ice walls redirected Maria’s magic bolts, while Nathan Snow created a slick surface that hampered Thomas’s advance. The battle stretched into minutes, neither side gaining clear advantage.

Sweat beaded on Lysander’s brow as he felt the strain of maintaining his arcane dominion. A shadow of irritation crossed his features as he realized the battle was taking longer than anticipated.

This should have been a simple matter, he thought, his jaw tightening as he reassessed his opponent. Her tactical acumen exceeds what her records suggested. How vexing.

In his peripheral vision, Lysander noticed several spectators pointing toward their platform—attention he neither wanted nor needed at this stage. Edwin had taken a glancing blow from an ice shard and was favoring his right side. Thomas’s shield showed signs of frost damage, the enchantments struggling against the relentless cold.

"Enough of this," Lysander murmured, more to himself than his team.

With fluid grace, he stepped forward, drawing himself to his full height. The air around him began to shimmer with arcane energy as he reached deep within himself, accessing power he had kept carefully concealed until now.

"I had hoped to avoid this," he announced, his voice carrying across the platform. "But you’ve earned this much respect, at least."

The mana density around Lysander abruptly doubled—a clear indicator of someone operating at C-rank rather than D-rank. Gasps rippled through the crowd as spectators recognized the implications. Claire’s eyes widened in shock, her concentration faltering momentarily as ice crystals forming at her fingertips shattered from the sudden pressure.

It was all the opening Lysander needed. With precise gestures, he wove a complex arcane matrix, his [Arcane Dominion] talent allowing him to structure magical forces with unparalleled efficiency. The platform illuminated with geometric patterns of light that encircled the Wintermist team, the arcane energy rapidly neutralizing their ice constructs and compressing inward.

"Surrender," Lysander stated simply. "Further resistance would be pointless and potentially injurious."

Claire held his gaze for a long moment before lowering her hands, frost dissipating from her fingertips. "We concede the match."

As the platform’s barrier dissipated and Lancaster’s voice announced their victory, Lysander felt a curious mixture of satisfaction and annoyance. He’d been forced to reveal more of his capability than intended—a tactical error he would need to account for in future confrontations.

His gaze drifted across the arena to where Marcus sat with Ambrose’s team. Something like regret flickered briefly across Lysander’s features.

He would have made a valuable addition, Lysander thought, measuring the swordsman’s potential against his current allegiance. But Rothschild got to him first.

With a resigned sigh, Lysander turned away. There was nothing he could do about it, all he could do was learn and adapt. Such was nature.

…

A/N - This is happening simultaneously

The crystalline board flashed with new names, drawing Leon Steelheart’s attention from his sword maintenance. His calloused fingers paused on the blade’s edge as he read the announcement: "Leon Steelheart’s team versus Damien Nightshade’s team on Platform Four!"

Leon rose from his seated position, rolling his shoulders to loosen the perpetual tension there. Unlike the noble-born students around him, his academy uniform lacked expensive enchantments or family crests—just standard-issue cloth, meticulously maintained through regular mending.

"Ready?" he asked his teammates, his voice carrying the distinct accent of Avaloria’s eastern provinces—rougher, less refined than the capital’s speech.

Kai nodded sharply, while Maya offered an encouraging smile. Ryan bounced on his toes, excess energy seeking release, and Laura checked her shield’s straps one final time.

They walked toward Platform Four as a unit, their solidarity evident in their matching strides. As they passed other contestants, Leon heard the whispers—they followed him everywhere in the academy.

"That’s the one with no potential."1

"How did he even qualify?"

"Must be charity admission."

Leon’s face betrayed nothing, but his grip on his sword’s hilt tightened briefly before relaxing. He’d heard worse in his seventeen years.

The Nightshade team already occupied their side of the platform when Leon’s group arrived. Damien Nightshade himself stood at the center of his formation, dark energy swirling around his fingertips. His team specialized in necrotic magic—dangerous but slow to build momentum.

"You know what they say," Damien called across the platform, his voice dripping with false camaraderie. "Talentless should stick to farming, not fighting."

Several spectators laughed, the sound echoing harshly through the arena.

Leon simply squared his shoulders and stepped onto the platform. "Maybe after I win, you can take up farming instead," he replied, his voice level. "I hear turnips don’t require much talent either."

A flash of anger crossed Damien’s face as the barriers activated around them.

"Begin!" Lancaster’s voice rang out.

Damien’s team immediately unleashed a barrage of darkness spells, flooding the platform with necrotic energy. Leon’s team might have lacked magical power, but their discipline was impeccable. Each member moved according to formations they’d practiced countless times in the academy’s training grounds.

Leon advanced steadily through the magical assault, his sword moving in precise arcs that seemed to cut through the very fabric of the spells themselves. What he lacked in talent, he compensated for with perfect technique and unwavering focus.

"Kai, left flank! Maya, support Ready! Ryan, pressure the caster!" Leon called out, his battlefield awareness allowing him to coordinate their movements with exceptional precision.

The battle flowed like a choreographed dance, each team member executing their role flawlessly. Ryan’s speed created openings that Maya exploited with support magic, while Kai and Laura maintained defensive positions that prevented counterattacks.

Leon watched his teammates with quiet pride. They’d been together for a long time, each one of them developing their own unique skills despite their middling talents. Unlike many teams that relied on a single powerful member, their strength came from perfect coordination.1

Damien’s frustration grew visible as his spells failed to find purchase. "How is this possible?" he growled, dark energy coalescing around him in erratic pulses. "You’re nothing! A talentless nobody!"

"Maybe," Leon acknowledged, advancing steadily. "But I’ve worked for every inch of ground I stand on."

With a sudden surge of speed that belied his lack of enhancement talents, Leon closed the distance between them. His sword moved in a complex pattern that he’d practiced tens of thousands of times—a technique requiring no magical talent, only countless hours of dedicated repetition.

This content is taken from freёnovelkiss.com.

The blade stopped precisely one inch from Damien’s throat.

"This nobody suggests you surrender," Leon stated quietly.

Lancaster’s voice boomed across the arena: "Victory to Leon Steelheart’s team!"

As his teammates gathered around him in celebration, Leon allowed himself a small smile. His gaze drifted toward the seating area where Ambrose Rothschild’s team rested, having completed their match in record time.

I’m still not there yet, Leon thought, his resolve hardening like steel in a forge. For mother’s medicine. For father’s debts. For my siblings’ future. I need to…

A/N - No potential is not the same as no talent, it means you can’t awaken a talent, like ever. (most people are actually like this)

A/N - Just in case someone is wondering, NO! It’s not that type of unique skill, just a literal statement (just thought i should clarify this)