It was morning, and about a month had passed since I conversed with Adrien by the river. I went through my days with a routine: I woke up early, stretched, and did light exercise. I go to school, and I train with Regalia in the evening.
Students were flooding into the courtyard between classes, buzzing with idle chatter about upcoming midterms, when the intercom crackled overhead. The sound silenced most of the courtyard immediately.
A voice followed—warm, confident, and unmistakably charismatic.
"Good morning, students of Dalton Academy. I hope your semesters have been enlightening and humbling so far. I have an announcement that may excite a few hearts—consider this your first official notice."
"This year's 'Ascension Clash' will begin... after midterms."
Gasps and excited murmurs broke out instantly across the courtyard.
"As always, the tournament will test not just power but strategy, growth, and heart. Only the most promising among you will rise through the ranks—perhaps, rise beyond them. Applications open this weekend till the week of midterms. That is all."
Clink—!
The courtyard burst into energy like someone had detonated a wave of adrenaline. Students exchanged excited whispers and bold predictions. I had just stepped out of the hall with Adrien, and we paused.
"Ascension Clash..." I muttered. "That's the tournament that changes ranks, right?"
Adrien nodded, already aware of what was coming. "It's the academy's most significant proving ground. If you do well, your rankings can skyrocket. Some even noticed by real-world guilds or mercenary sponsors."
My eyes gleamed slightly; the thought was clearly tempting. "So this is how people really rise."
Adrien smirked. "Thinking of entering?"
I smiled at him.
Later that evening, the blade slammed into the stone floor, an inch from my boot. Regalia stood across from me, her expression sharper than usual.
"No."
I blinked. "No?"
"You're not entering the Ascension Clash," she demanded, retrieving the sword in one fluid motion.
"Why not? I can handle it." I scowled.
"You can't," she said flatly. "Not yet. Not while your powers are still unstable."
I felt my powers flickering along my knuckles. "You've seen me fight. You said I had potential."
"And I meant it," she affirmed, circling me. "But potential doesn't win tournaments. Control does. And right now, you're holding your fire together with willpower and bandages."
I looked away.
"You're not ready, Daniel," she said again, calmer this time. There was a hint of concern on her face. "Not because you're weak, but because your enemy isn't someone across from you in a ring. It's the thing inside you. The thing you still don't understand."
My voice dropped. "How long are you going to keep me on a leash?"
Regalia stopped walking. She furrowed her brows. However, she didn't seem angry. "As long as it takes for you to stop burning yourself alive every time you try to protect someone."
I flinched, guilt pressing against my chest.
I felt Regalia stare at me and sigh as she sheathed her sword. "You want to fight in the Ascension Clash? Then prove you can fight yourself first."
She turned toward the exit, her final words echoing behind her. "Until then... you're not a competitor. You're a question mark."
It bothered me a lot that she would say all that and then walk away. The impact still echoed in my bones. I stood there, breathing hard, hands clenched, watching Regalia walk away from me once more. Her back was sharp and distant, like everything else I couldn't quite catch.
Her words replayed like a broken record in my head.
"You're not ready."
"Not while your powers are still unstable."
"You're not a competitor. You're a question mark."
I lowered my head. My flame simmering at my fingertips—not wild or explosive, but tight, restrained. I held back like something caged in my chest. And yet... I didn't move. My body stayed frozen in place. My heart was beating fast—not with anger, but with something heavier.
She's right, I thought. I'm not ready... but I'm not nothing either. The doubt curled inward like it was trying to silence me, whispering that maybe I was lucky during the Reaper trial. Perhaps the black fire meant I wasn't supposed to be here. But my thoughts turned to Adrien's voice, steady and loyal even in fear.
"But you didn't destroy us... You saved who you could. You were trying. That's who you are."
I thought about the others. Ryder, Amber... Sera. Her eyes were watching me during Evanna's lecture, recognizing something in me that I hadn't named yet. Then, I remembered my father's face. He looked tired, but still looked for me. I felt his care for me when we trained.
Then, her face appeared—Lia's. I remember her cuddling up to Cynthia and how adorable her smile was. Then, she was twisting, gone, taken. Those events—all that trauma—tightened my chest. I couldn't save her then, but maybe I can now. Maybe this—all of this—is leading to my second chance.
Regalia was almost to the arena exit. I inhaled deeply, letting the fear curl inside me like smoke. Then, I pulled it into my lungs and stood taller. My voice cut through the quiet like a blade:
"Then I'll make you say yes."
Regalia's boots echoed across the stone as she walked away, her sharp silhouette framed by the light pouring in from the arena's exit. But she'd barely crossed the threshold when my voice rang out to her.
She stopped.
Regalia didn't turn around—but her body stilled completely.
I wiped the sweat from my brow, chest rising and falling from the session we'd just ended. My hands still burned faintly—embers curling from my knuckles.
"I get it," I continued, stepping forward. "I'm unstable. Unproven. Dangerous... but I'm not broken."
My voice sharpened. "And I'm done waiting for permission to stop being afraid of what I am."
Regalia turned halfway, her wine-red eyes narrowed slightly—but something flickered in them.
I raised my stance, fists up again. "So let's go again."
"You'll lose."
"I probably will."
I took one step forward. "But next time, I'll last longer."
Regalia stepped back into the ring slowly. I saw the faintest half-smile on her. "Very well," she said, taking out one of her blades and pointing it forward. "One round. Push me, make me believe it."
I smiled. It wasn't my cocky smile; it was confidence.
The flames lit again. I wasn't doing this for the tourney. I was doing this for something bigger—my right to fight.
The air in the training ring was still—not the calm before the storm—but the storm that stood still, waiting. Regalia held her blade loosely, angled toward the floor. The other sheathed behind her. A glint of steel reflected across her sharp, impassive gaze. I faced her again, sweat drying on my skin. My flames curled gently off my fists.
There was no crowd, no stakes. Only the question: "Can I earn this?"
Regalia broke the silence. "Last chance to step back."
I set my feet. "I already did that yesterday."
Her faint half-smile formed more, and without a word, she moved.
A burst of silver and red speed—she was on me in a blink. I barely brought my forearms up in time to block her strike. The vibration of her blade cracked through my bones. I pivoted back, using my flames to propel me sideways, feet skidding on the scorched tile.
Regalia didn't relent. Her next swing came wide—I ducked under it and tried to counter with a short burst of fire at her feet. She leaped, light as a wisp, flipping behind me. She wasn't attacking me, I realized. She's testing how I move. I turned, hurling firebolts at her. The fire curved like an arc.
Regalia raised her hand, and dark steel bloomed from her palm like a barrier. The flames hissed against it and died.
"You're using power," she declared. "But not purpose."
She lunged once more.
I gritted my teeth, dodging back. I feinted left, then drove my elbow into her midsection—only to strike her steel-reinforced ribs. Pain radiated up my arm. Regalia struck downward with the hilt of her sword, clipping my shoulder and sending me crashing down.
I usually stayed down after that, but I couldn't afford that now. I rolled, rebounding to my feet instead of staying down. My flames reignited instantly, forming gauntlet-like wraps along my forearms. "I'm not the same as yesterday."
"No," Regalia admitted, circling. "But you're still dragging hesitation behind you like a shadow."
I charged forward again, but this time—
I didn't try to overpower her.
I shifted mid-run, using my flames to redirect, side-stepping her counter and lashing out with a flaming uppercut. The hit grazed her shoulder—my first real contact. For a second, I saw it; Regalia's brow lifted. I pressed the momentum, following with a flame-enhanced slide toward her legs—but she flipped over me, landing on one knee.
Her eyes gleamed. "You're adapting."
I panted. "You told me to push you."
Regalia nodded once. "Then push harder."
We clashed again—faster this time. Steel met fire. Sparks scattered with every collision. My breathing came faster, but I could feel my footwork improving. I kept learning with every dodge, adjusting after every hit. However, the strain was building. And she knew it.
After five more exchanges, Regalia spun mid-air and slammed the flat of her blade into my back, sending me sprawling across the stone. This time, I didn't get up immediately. I groaned, coughed, and held one hand against the ground. Regalia walked toward me slowly. Her sword rested at her side, relaxed.
"You lasted longer."
I pushed myself up on one knee. My breath was ragged. "Didn't win, though."
"No," she said. "But you earned something."
She reached out her hand. I stared at it for a moment, then took it. She pulled me to my feet.
"You're not ready for the Ascension Clash," she said flatly. "Not yet."
I felt my shoulders tense.
"...But you're closer than I thought."
I looked up, surprise flickering in my eyes.
Regalia sheathed her blade. "You have until your midterms. Convince me."
Then she turned and left the arena. I stood there, sore, scorched. Despite all that, I smiled through the pain. Closer than she thought. I felt like I won for the first time in a long time. That was enough—for now...
——————————————————————
The observation chamber atop the headmaster's spire was reserved for senior faculty and strategic oversight. Crystal-paneled walls offered panoramic views of the academy grounds, and a suspended projection ring floated at the room's center, currently tuned to the private arena below.
Inside it, a holographic echo of Daniel's sparring with Regalia played out in ghostly light—every step, flame bursts, and hit replayed in real-time analysis. Headmaster Evelyn Morte leaned back in her velvet armchair, legs crossed, a glass of red fruit wine in hand. Her gaze was focused, though a slight smirk curled at the edge of her lips.
"His progress is amazing," she murmured.
Beside her stood Vice Principal Helene Eventrap, arms folded, expression cool and analytical. Her dark-gloved fingers tapped absently against her elbow as she watched Regalia drop Daniel with a precise blow.
"Still reckless," Helene noted. "Still emotional."
"Of course he is," Evelyn said, swirling the wine. "That's what makes him fun to watch."
Helene gave her a sideways glance. "This is a school, Evelyn. Not a bloodsport coliseum."
Evelyn's smile widened slightly. "You say that like they're mutually exclusive."
The arena replay paused as Regalia offered Daniel her hand.
Helene stepped forward, narrowing her eyes. "He lasted longer this time. His steps were sharper. Still leaking power on emotion, but... he's stabilizing."
Evelyn leaned forward, resting her elbow on the armrest. "He's trying to make her say 'yes.'"
"She won't."
"She might."
Helene arched an eyebrow. "You put her in charge of his training because she's cold. Disciplined. Because she wouldn't be swayed."
Evelyn's gaze flickered toward Helene with a subtle spark. "I put her in charge because I wanted to know if she saw what I saw."
Helene was quiet for a moment.
"And what is it you see, Evelyn?"
There was silence, and then Evelyn stood. She walked toward the projection ring. She tapped a floating glyph and zoomed in on Daniel's burning hands, highlighting the subtle flicker of black and violet at the edge of his flames.
"Daniel Reyes is a Gatekeeper. One of the four we know in the world. One of the two we have in this school," she pauses.
"I see potential," she said. "I see instability. And I see entertainment."
Helene folded her arms. "He's a risk."
Evelyn nodded. "So are all great weapons before they're tempered."
She turned fully, looking Helene in the eye now.
"I won't push him into the Ascension Clash. But I won't stop him either."
"And if Regalia forbids it?"
"We watch," Evelyn said. "We measure. And if he earns it... We make room."
Helene's brow furrowed slightly. "You still think he's the one Caelum spoke about, right?"
Evelyn's eyes gleamed. "I think he's something. And I'm not letting the story write itself without keeping a pen in my hand."
She raised her glass in a mock toast toward the image of Daniel, just as he stood alone in the empty arena.
"To fire, fear, and whatever's still sleeping in the boy's soul."
——————————————————————
The next day came, and it was another training session for me. I made significant progress in my stability, and I've lasted longer in combat with every session I've done with Regalia. Her words were what I needed to push forward, and I don't think I'll ever forget them.
I met with Adrien after class. We also bumped into Ryder and Cyril. We socialized with them about the latest things, keeping things like my training with Regalia and the Gatekeeper out. Aside from that, we told them about everything else. We caught up for a while. They told me Jennifer was doing her own thing. She has been slowly reforming herself, helping other students with Ryder's help. The spark between them keeps growing, I see.
We made a couple of jokes and said our goodbyes. By the end, I couldn't help but feel like something was watching me. Then again, I always felt that way, so it's probably nothing to be concerned about. Adrien and I continued wandering and chatting until I had to attend training. I told him my 'see ya' and left for the forest.
——————————————————————
The academy's outer forests weren't restricted, but students rarely wandered there alone. The trees were dense and sloped, the terrain uneven and shadowed. Too far for class, too quiet for comfort. Which is why Sera Lionheart noticed. She was walking back from a solo training session—sword slung over her back, white coat fluttering with each breeze—when she spotted movement in the trees below.
A single figure walking calmly toward the forest's edge. Daniel Reyes. He wasn't with Adrien. He wasn't talking, just walking. He looked focused, as if this were his routine. Sera slowed. Something in the way he moved felt... of. It wasn't hostile but driven like he had a destination in mind—A secret one.
She watched as he entered the woods, expression unreadable.
——————————————————————
Another two weeks had passed. Dust rose from the stone floor in lazy spirals as flame and steel collided again. I launched forward, and my footwork was cleaner than it had ever been. My strikes carried more weight to them and less emotional intensity. Each flame-coated jab is paired with movement, and each burst of fire is smaller and more deliberate.
Regalia parried with clinical precision. She didn't have to use her full speed anymore—not because I was weak, but because I was finally thinking. We disengaged after a final exchange. I was panting after that. The heat was still rolling off my arms in low waves.
Regalia, for once, didn't move immediately. She tilted her head slightly. "You've improved."
I gave her a tired grin. "So... am I in?"
Regalia's face hardened again. "No."
I felt the smile fading from my face at her answer.
"You're faster," she continued. "More focused, but you still hesitate. It still burns too hot when pressured. You've trained well, but the arena is nothing like the real world."
I tightened my jaw. "So what, I just keep sparring until I'm perfect?"
"No," Regalia said, stepping forward. "You get real experience."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
Regalia walked past me and retrieved a scroll from her bag. She tossed it onto the stone floor between us. It unfurled automatically, marked with mission seals and coordinates outside the academy grounds.
"Escort mission. Guild-backed. Minor scouting operation near an old supply route. There's a risk, but it's controlled."
I stared at the scroll. "You want me to go on a real mission?"
"I'm going," she said flatly. "I can handle it alone. But I want to see how you operate outside the ring. How does your power hold up when real lives could be on the line? When there are no walls, no resets, no safety."
I could feel my heart quicken. "And if I go?"
"If you don't get someone killed—or yourself—and you keep your fire in check... I'll consider the Clash."
I stepped forward, my eyes locked on hers. "When do we leave?"
Regalia gave the faintest smile—just a ghost of approval. "Tomorrow morning. Dawn. Pack light and speak less." She turned and walked off.
I looked down at the scroll again. The mission wasn't grand, it wasn't heroic either. But it was real. And this time, it wasn't about sparring. It was about proving I belonged in the fight. I grabbed the scroll and took it home. I needed to tell Adrien this.
Later that evening, I went to my apartment's rooftop terrace with Adrien. The wind was soft tonight, cooler than usual, and brushing over the city like a warning. I sat on the edge, elbows resting on my knees. I had a small travel pack slung beside me. I hadn't told anyone about this save for Adrien.
He stood next to me, arms crossed, brow tight with concern. "A mission?" Adrien asked for the second time, just to be sure.
I nodded. "Escort mission. Outside the academy. Just a few days."
"Let me guess... Regalia?"
"Yeah."
Adrien exhaled through his nose. "Of course. That woman trains like she's trying to break you into sword steel."
"She's giving me a chance," I said. "To prove I belong in the Ascension Clash."
Adrien places a hand on my shoulder. "You don't need to prove anything."
I looked down at my hands, removed my gloves, and unwrapped the bandages. Under the moonlight, I revealed the faint glow of the sigil on my palm.
"Yes, I do," I said quietly. "Not just to her. To me."
Adrien sat beside me. "You think one mission is going to answer everything?"
I shook my head. "No," I said. "But it might help me stop asking the same questions repeatedly."
I looked over toward the trees in the far distance. The forest line disappeared into the dark.
"I'm tired of being afraid of what's in me."
Adrien went quiet for a long time. Then he said, "Just... don't do the hero thing, okay? Don't throw yourself in front of something just to prove you can."
I smirked slightly. "You're the only one who gets to call me out like that."
"I've earned it," Adrien replied.
A silence settled between us, but it wasn't heavy; it was just real.
I stood up shortly after. "I head out at dawn."
Adrien stood up with me. "You want me to cover for you?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Tell anyone who asks that I'm doing solo meditation training or something spiritual-sounding."
Adrien grinned. "I'll tell them you're studying ancient flame-breathing goat poses in the east tower."
I laughed under my breath. "Thanks for sticking with me," I said quietly.
Adrien gave him a light punch in the arm. "Always."
As Daniel turned to go, Adrien called out one last time. "And hey—don't come back unless you make her almost say yes."
I smiled at myself. "Deal."
I then disappeared down the stairs.