I could still feel the eyes of the rival girl burning into my back from that balcony. The taste of ambition, thick and acrid, clung to the air. I had survived daggers in the dark, whispers in the hall, and even Kael's piercing gaze—but this was different. A rival didn't watch silently unless she was planning something drastic.
And drastic came sooner than expected.
The morning bells had barely finished ringing when the summons arrived.
A parchment, folded thrice and sealed with crimson wax, was slipped beneath my chamber door. The script, elegant yet venomous, read:
"Lady Seraphine. If you believe yourself worthy of the Sect's future, prove it. At dawn tomorrow—duel me. The eyes of the entire Sect will judge who belongs, and who is nothing but shadow."
Signed: Lady Mira of the Crimson Lotus Peak.
I laughed. A duel challenge? Not for honor, not for cultivation rank, but reputation. If I lost—even by accident—I'd be branded a fraud. If I refused, I'd be branded a coward.
Trapped. Or so she thinks.
"Cute," I whispered, folding the parchment with a smile that wasn't quite sane.
This was the role I had been reborn into: villainess. And villainesses never bowed.
The corridors of the Sect buzzed like a disturbed hive. Whispers followed me wherever I went.
"Did you hear? The duel."
"She accepted already?"
"She's mad. Mira's cultivation is leagues above hers."
"She won't last a single strike."
I walked through the storm of voices with my chin lifted. Composure was everything. To falter here was to hand my enemies the ending they wanted.
But as I reached the end of the hall, a shadow detached itself from the pillars.
Kael.
Obsidian and silver threads shimmered in his robes, catching the morning light in a way that made the world around him seem muted. His expression, however, was the same cold, unreadable mask.
"Do you enjoy painting targets on your back?" His voice was low, edged with disdain—and something else, something sharper that cut deeper than insult.
I arched a brow. "You were watching."
"I watch everything," he replied, but his gaze lingered on me longer than necessary. "You shouldn't accept. You won't survive."
For a heartbeat, silence hung between us, thick as the fog rising from the Sect's gardens.
"Survival," I said softly, tilting my hand to reveal the faint scar from the last assassination attempt, "is what I do best."
His jaw tightened. A twitch—barely a flicker—crossed his lips, as if he almost smiled.
Almost.
"You're reckless," Kael said finally, turning on his heel, silver-threaded robes whispering across the stone floor. "But reckless fire… burns fast."
And yet, he didn't forbid me.
He didn't stop me.
The Sect was alive with anticipation. A duel in the Moonstone Courtyard wasn't a small affair; it was practically theater. The wide marble expanse, ringed by ancient carvings of celestial beasts, had seen blood, victory, and disgrace carved into its history.
I spent the afternoon not sharpening weapons, but sharpening perception.
In my past life, I had been a bystander to history, crushed by others' schemes. This time, I would orchestrate it.
My cultivation wasn't as advanced as Mira's—but knowledge was its own weapon. Hidden techniques buried in forgotten scrolls flickered through my memory. Weaknesses. Counter-stances. Even how to use reputation itself as a blade.
The villainess was not supposed to win fairly. She was supposed to play dirty—and survive.
(Kael's POV)
He watched her from the shadows of the training grounds that night, unseen.
Seraphine moved with sharp grace, her stance unrefined yet strangely fluid. She lacked the years of disciplined cultivation others possessed, but there was something in the way she reacted—as if her body anticipated attacks that hadn't yet come.
Too instinctive. Too… unnatural.
Kael's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. His sect robes shimmered, obsidian and silver threads catching the moonlight. He was supposed to feel disdain, contempt for this so-called villainess forced upon him by circumstance.
And yet, he felt… something else.
Interest.
Jealousy, even, at the thought of her name being spoken so loudly tomorrow, all eyes upon her.
"She'll draw blood," he muttered under his breath. "But whose?"
His gaze darkened. He wasn't sure which outcome he wanted more—to see her humbled, or to see her prove them all wrong.
*******
Sleep evaded me.
Instead, I stood on the balcony of my chamber, staring at the courtyard bathed in pale moonlight. The arena seemed to pulse, alive with memories of duels past.
"This isn't just Mira's challenge," I whispered to myself. "It's mine. My stage."
For a brief, traitorous second, I thought of Kael—his cold eyes, his almost-smile, his strange presence. Would he be watching? Would he care if I fell?
No.
Care was dangerous. Villainesses weren't loved. They were feared.
And I would give them reason.
The Sect gathered as the first rays of dawn bled across the sky. Disciples lined the courtyard, their whispers a chorus of judgment.
Mira stood at the center, her crimson robes flowing like liquid flame, eyes gleaming with triumph before the battle even began.
"You came," she said, lips curling.
"Of course," I replied, stepping forward with deliberate calm. "It would be rude to let you embarrass yourself alone."
The laughter that rippled through the crowd was sharp, cutting—but some of it turned in my favor.
Mira's face twisted, only for a moment, before she masked it with arrogance. "This will be over quickly."
"Try me," I said, and I smiled.
Somewhere in the shadows beyond the disciples, I felt Kael's gaze. Cold. Piercing. Watching.
Waiting.
The duel began not with swords, but with silence.
Every breath, every shift of stance was a move in itself.
Mira struck first—crimson energy flaring as her cultivation surged, a whip of flame lashing toward me. I sidestepped, reflexes sharper than they had any right to be. The whip cracked the stone where I'd stood. Gasps filled the courtyard.
"Lucky," Mira sneered.
"Calculated," I corrected.
I flicked my wrist, channeling what little cultivation I could summon. Shadows coiled, not strong, but precise. I aimed not for strength, but disruption—forcing her to adjust, to stumble, even for a heartbeat.
The crowd roared.
Kael's eyes narrowed in the shadows.
She's not fighting like a novice. She's fighting like someone who's done this before.
The game had begun.
The duel's first strikes cracked the courtyard, sparks and shadows colliding. Mira's fury grew, her attacks faster, more lethal.
But my smile only widened.
Because beneath her rage, I could already see it—her weakness, blooming like a flower at dawn.
And when I struck it, all of them—Mira, the Sect, even Kael—would know.
This villainess was not a pawn.
She was a player.
The first duel at dawn had begun.
The courtyard was silent except for the whisper of banners swaying in the cold dawn air. Dozens of inner disciples lined the perimeter, their robes embroidered with their respective sect crests, forming a vivid halo of rival factions around the arena's white jade tiles.
"Scared already, villainess?" she mocked, lips curving into a blade-thin smile.
I smirked back, refusing to show weakness. "Darling, you mistake anticipation for fear."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. To mock Lady Mira openly was unthinkable. But I had already resolved: survival meant rewriting the script.
The referee, an elder of neutral standing, raised his hand. "This duel is sanctioned by the sect's code. Until one yields—or is unable to continue."
The air froze.
The hand dropped.
Mira moved first.
Her cultivation surged, crimson qi blazing from her palm as she formed a whip of living fire. It cracked across the air with the sound of splitting thunder, rushing toward me.
My instincts—sharper than before—snapped alive. My body remembered movements I had never trained.
Sliding sideways, I dropped low, the fire whip sizzling past, burning a trail into the jade tiles. Heat seared my cheek, but my pulse steadied instead of panicked.
She's faster than me. Stronger. But not smarter.
"Running already?" Mira taunted, flicking her whip in rapid arcs, sparks showering as jade cracked beneath the assault.
But each strike revealed her rhythm—predictable, arrogant, overconfident.
I lunged forward between two strikes, rolling, and came up just within reach. Dagger drawn, I slashed—aiming not for flesh, but for the trailing end of her whip. Steel met flame with a sharp crack, dispersing the qi construct momentarily.
The crowd gasped.
Her eyes widened. "You—!"
"Adaptation," I said smoothly, even as my arm trembled under the strain of parrying pure qi with steel. "You should try it."
Fury twisted her features. Mira shifted stance, summoning a storm of crimson petals, her signature technique—The Blooming Inferno. Each petal spun with razor-sharp edges of condensed fire qi, filling the air with lethal beauty.
The audience murmured in awe. This was the move that had crushed countless inner sect rivals.
I should have panicked. Instead… something inside me stirred.
My vision sharpened. The petals slowed, each trajectory clear in my mind. My heartbeat synced with the rhythm of the storm. My cultivation core—weak, half-dormant—fluttered like a locked door rattling against its chains.
Not yet awakened… but waking.
The petals swarmed toward me. I inhaled, crouched low, and moved.
Sliding, weaving, twisting—each step guided not by thought, but by instinct carved into my very bones. A path opened through the storm, narrow as a thread, yet I traced it perfectly.
The crowd fell silent.
"Impossible…" someone whispered.
From the sidelines, Kael's eyes narrowed. Cloaked in his obsidian-and-silver robes, his arms folded, his expression unreadable. But within him, a flicker of something dangerous stirred.
This girl… moves like a predator. Has she been hiding this from the start?
Mira screamed in rage. Her qi surged, compressing the petals into a single, spiraling spear of fire. It shot toward me with the force of a comet.
I braced—too slow to dodge this one. My instincts screamed, but my body couldn't keep up.
And then—
The spear's trajectory faltered.
Barely. Almost imperceptibly.
But enough.
Instead of piercing my chest, it grazed past my shoulder, searing flesh, but leaving me alive.
I hissed in pain, clutching my arm, but smirked through clenched teeth. "Missed."
Mira's brows furrowed. Impossible. My aim never falters.
From the shadows, Kael's fingers twitched once within his sleeve. He said nothing, face unreadable. But his silvery-gray eyes lingered on me—watchful, calculating, curious.
Why did I intervene? he asked himself, almost annoyed. She should have fallen. This duel means nothing. And yet…
His jaw tightened. His interest was an ember he could not smother.
Blood dripped from my wound, staining my sleeve. Pain sharpened me further. The chains rattling in my core shuddered, strained… and cracked.
For an instant, the world bent. The qi flow around us—the currents of energy feeding the courtyard—flared into focus.
I could see them. Threads of power connecting every living thing.
And I moved.
With my untrained dagger, I struck—not at Mira directly, but at the flow of qi guiding her whip-hand. Steel sliced the invisible current, disrupting her form. Her strike faltered, her aura buckling as if cut from within.
The crowd gasped.
Mira stumbled, eyes wide with shock. "What… what did you just do?!"
I wiped blood from my lip, grinning despite the ache. "A villainess adapts. Didn't I tell you?"
The elder referee's brows furrowed in alarm. That wasn't a normal technique. What is she awakening?
The courtyard erupted in murmurs. Half disbelief, half awe.
From the balcony above, a figure watched silently—a rival I had not yet named, her smile sharp as glass.
The first seeds of true danger were sown.
And Kael? He turned away, hiding the faintest curve of his lips.
Not a smile. Not yet.
But close.