The stands were packed.
The sun hovered high overhead, casting brilliant beams over the central arena as a heavy, expectant silence blanketed the crowd.
Students, instructors, and even high-ranking Academy officials had gathered. In one of the reserved balconies above, a group of stern-looking elders watched closely. Among them, a tall man with silver-streaked hair and sharp blue eyes leaned forward in his seat—Ardan Dawnmere, Alice's father, Head Instructor of the Academy's Combat Division.
At his side, several professors whispered quietly, some skeptical, some simply fascinated.
Kaelen's voice cut through the tension.
"Match One: Alice Dawnmere versus Vaen Solarius."
Eryon, Kael, and Ryn sat together, their hands clenched unconsciously as they watched their friends step into the ring.
Alice walked with measured grace, her blade already drawn. She radiated an aura of icy calm, but those who watched closely could see the faintest flicker of tension in her fingertips.
Vaen entered without ceremony. No blade drawn. Hands empty.
Again.
The two faced one another across the polished stone.
Kaelen raised his hand—then dropped it.
"Begin!"
Alice struck first.
In a flash of silver and light, she closed the distance with the precision of a hawk diving from the heavens. Her sword weaved in controlled arcs, each one aimed not to overpower, but to dismantle.
Vaen moved almost lazily, slipping past her strikes with fluid, effortless steps. He parried with nothing but his forearms and shifts of body weight, never flinching, never breaking his balance.
The crowd watched in rapt attention.
Alice pressed harder, her movements a flurry of sharp, elegant precision. She combined feints with sudden bursts of speed, aiming to force an opening.
Nothing.
Vaen simply flowed around her. His golden hair barely shifted as he moved, as if the air itself bent around him.
"He's not even serious," Kael muttered, a bead of sweat forming at his brow despite sitting in the stands.
Ryn's eyes narrowed. "No. He's measuring her."
Eryon said nothing. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened.
Above, Ardan Dawnmere sat rigid, his sharp gaze never leaving the duel.
Minutes passed. Alice adjusted, adapted. She slowed her rhythm, baited Vaen to move first. For a moment, it seemed like she might find an opening—
But Vaen's counterattack came like a breath of wind.
A single shift of weight, a palm strike aimed at her ribs.
Alice barely twisted aside, her sword flashing up defensively.
The force of the blow sent a crack echoing through the arena as her blade absorbed the impact.
Still, she remained standing.
Not yet, her eyes seemed to say.
And then she surged forward again—this time sharper, faster, and far more dangerous.
Light began to gather around her blade. Subtle at first, then pulsing visibly.
From the viewing platform, one of the instructors leaned in. "She's drawing on her affinity. She's condensing it."
"Risky," another muttered. "Against him?"
But Ardan Dawnmere allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smile to form.
Alice leapt, her sword arcing in a downward slash filled with condensed light energy.
Vaen sidestepped—almost too casually.
Almost.
Because as he moved, Alice twisted, spun her blade upward with a desperate precision—
And a thin line of red blossomed across Vaen's cheek.
The entire arena gasped.
Even the elders leaned forward, startled.
In the stands, Kael nearly fell out of his seat. "She hit him!"
Ryn's mouth tightened. "No... now it's going to start."
Vaen lifted his hand slowly to his cheek, inspecting the faint trace of blood with an unreadable expression.
For the first time since stepping into the Academy, his golden eyes darkened.
Without a word, he reached over his back.
And drew his sword.
A whisper of golden light rippled across the arena.