The hall erupted in a flurry of motion. Sparks flew as the challenger's mana-infused sword arced through the air, trailing fire and lightning. Each strike carried power no ordinary blade could achieve — a display meant to overwhelm any ordinary opponent.
Riven's blade moved with precision, intercepting and parrying, relying solely on his skill. No magic bolstered him, no spells guided his strikes. Every maneuver was instinct, timing, and sheer will.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. "Impossible…" one noble muttered. "He can't even use mana, and he's… keeping up?"
The challenger pressed harder, arrogance flashing in his eyes. "Yield, boy. You are no mage. A sword without mana is nothing!"
Riven's jaw tightened. A sword without magic… that's the only kind worth wielding. He lunged, steel meeting steel, deflecting the flaming arcs and the crackling lightning with pure technique.
With calculated precision, he disarmed the magic-infused opponent. The sparks died, and the crowd went silent. Then whispers rose: "A mana-less fluke…" "How?"
The chief examiner nodded, conceding the point. "Though lacking mana, this boy has demonstrated mastery sufficient to enter the academy. Let him be admitted."
Riven sheathed his sword, expression unreadable. He didn't bow, didn't smile. Inside, a spark of resolve formed: If I must fight among sword mages who rely on magic, I'll outlast them all — with my skill, not theirs.
The whispers of envy and disbelief followed him as he left the hall. But Riven paid them no mind. The duel had proven one thing: mana could make a sword lethal, but mastery… mastery made one unstoppable.