Chapter 5
The arena was nothing like the students had imagined.
Instead of a grand coliseum or a lavishly decorated dueling chamber, Classroom Arena B was a plain, circular platform surrounded by enchantment-resistant walls and observation balconies. Rows of students gathered around the upper tiers, buzzing with excitement, hoping to witness either a miracle… or a massacre.
Most were betting on the latter.
"Veyne's going to crush him."
"She was born into mana. He was born into bad luck."
"I heard Kael once tried to cast a light spell and blinded himself for three days."
Lera Veyne stood at one end of the dueling circle, her crimson robes gleaming faintly under the overhead sun-crystals. Her hands were gloved—fine combat-grade fabric laced with mana-channels. Her hair was tied tightly, not a strand out of place, and her eyes… they held nothing.
No anger.
No pity.
No recognition.
Just focus.
Across from her, Kael Vireon stepped onto the stone with his usual lazy gait, stretching his arms behind his head like he'd just woken from a nap.
"Nice weather," he muttered. "Perfect for being publicly humiliated."
Dean Thalos stood in the center, overseeing the match personally—a rare gesture. He raised his staff slightly, voice amplified by a soft charm.
"This duel will be regulated under Class B guidelines. First to incapacitation, surrender, or spell-break. No fatal blows. Begin on my mark."
Kael didn't summon a staff.
Lera did.
Hers snapped open from a small silver ring—unfolding into a graceful, obsidian rod etched with glowing red lines.
"Contestants," Thalos said, stepping back. "Begin."
Lera moved first—no hesitation.
With a flick of her staff, a tri-circle glyph materialized in the air. Three chained fire spears formed and launched forward in a blink, their flight silent but burning.
Kael barely shifted.
He raised his hand—not to block, but to draw a subtle sigil in front of him. A low-tier defense rune, barely functional in any real battle.
It cracked on impact.
Sparks flew as the spears hit the barrier and pushed through. Kael twisted sideways, letting the last one scorch past his ribs.
The crowd gasped.
Blood marked his shirt, but he remained standing.
"That was a warm-up," Lera said, her voice sharp and clear. "I recommend you yield now."
Kael's expression didn't change.
But something in his eyes did.
He raised his hand again. Slowly. Casually. Like a bored student demonstrating something for class.
A second glyph appeared—but not one from any modern spellbook. It was shaped like a spiral inside a broken diamond, outlined with unstable runes and curved memory-sigils.
Several watching students frowned.
Even the instructors leaned forward.
What spell was that?
Lera's eyes narrowed. "That's not academy-grade casting."
Kael smiled.
Then snapped his fingers.
Time—just for a heartbeat—twitched.
Lera's staff flickered mid-motion.
Her footing shifted. Her eyes widened, just barely.
To the crowd, it looked like Kael had done nothing.
But Lera felt it. Something in the mana flow had turned. A ripple in the duel's current. A spell that brushed against memory and muscle—like her own magic trying to betray her.
What was that just now?
She took a step back. Just one.
Kael didn't follow.
In the balcony above, Dean Thalos's monocle shimmered.
He spoke quietly to his assistant. "Did you feel it?"
The assistant nodded nervously. "Distortion in the temporal layer. Impossible for a Class C student."
Thalos's eyes glinted. "It seems our Vireon boy isn't as empty as he appears."
Back in the arena, Lera struck harder.
She layered her next glyphs—fire and wind, rotating into a vortex spiral—and launched a storm lance forward with incredible force.
Kael didn't block.
He stepped forward.
The wind split around him. The fire cracked. The lance missed.
The crowd went silent.
"You aimed to miss," Kael said, calmly.
"I didn't," Lera replied, genuinely confused.
"Then something inside you did."
Her jaw clenched.
He wasn't taunting.
He was testing her.
And in that moment—under the lights, in front of dozens of nobles, commoners, and scholars—something flickered in Lera's mind.
Not a memory.
Not a voice.
But a feeling.
A heartbeat, foreign yet familiar.
She looked into Kael's eyes again.
And this time… she felt it.
A strange sense of knowing.
"Who are you?" she asked, softly.
Kael didn't answer.
Because if she remembered… it would have to be on her own.
The match ended with a sudden interference rune flashing across the barrier—Dean Thalos himself stepping in.
"Enough," he declared. "This duel is inconclusive. Both parties are dismissed."
Confused murmurs filled the arena. Some booed. Others gawked.
Kael turned and walked away, blood soaking lightly through his shirt, but head held high.
Lera remained behind, staring at the strange rune still glowing on the stone—the one Kael had drawn.
She had never seen it before.
And yet…
Why did it feel like she had?
❖ END OF CHAPTER 5 ❖