The arena buzzed with excitement. Word of Victoria's friendly demonstration had spread fast, and by the time I stepped into the center, it felt like the entire academy had shown up. Cadets crammed the stone steps, whispering, pointing, eager to see whether the orphan prodigy or the golden heir would come out on top.
I stood in the center, my sword propped against my shoulder. The weight no longer dragged me, but my gut still twisted. Not from fear. From her.
Victoria Vaelstrad
She looked like a portrait come to life. Her uniform pressed, hair immaculate, fancy sword gleaming as though it had never been used. She didn't need the theatrics. She just stood there, her stance textbook, her expression composed. And that unbreakable calm? Worse than outright disdain.
Finally, she looked in my direction. Frigid. Evaluating. The way one might gaze at a dull blade before setting it aside.
"Cadet Luna," she said, voice slicing through the arena. "Your talent has earned you favoritism." She paused, scanning me. "But talent alone is not enough. Today, I'll prove discipline triumphs over arrogance."
A low murmur swept through the crowd. Some cadets nodded along, some smirked, and a few glanced at me with pity. Ugh, can't believe it's come to this, my fellow cadets actually pitying me.
I shrugged and flashed a cocky smile. "You talk like you've already won. Should I just fall over right now and save you the trouble?"
My voice sounded steady, but my heart was hammering against my ribs. Joke enough and maybe no one will notice.
That one actually earned a few laughs from the audience. Victoria's lips pressed into a thin line.
"You mistake confidence for strength," she spat. "And mockery for wit. Both will abandon you when iron clashes iron."
"Or," I countered, shifting the sword on my shoulder, "they'll carry me straight through you. But I guess we'll have to find out, huh?"
Her eyes narrowed just slightly. "When you lose, I expect you to remember this moment. To remember who stood across from you and showed you the meaning of humility."
I gave her my sweetest, most infuriating grin. "And when you lose, I'll be sure to carve it into the arena's wall. Don't want anyone forgetting."
Gasps, laughter, even a few hoots from the upper rows. The tension in the air thickened until you could practically see the sparks between us.
The overseeing instructor stepped forward, glaring at us both like we were unruly pups. "This is a sanctioned duel between Cadet Luna Aegis and Cadet Victoria Vaelstrad. First to yield, incapacitation, or clear victory. No killing blows."
He let the weight of his words hang.
"Understood?"
"Understood," Victoria replied without hesitation.
"Yeah, sure," I muttered, planting my sword tip-first into the ground with a heavy thunk.
The instructor raised his hand, his voice booming over the noise of the crowd. "Begin!"
His hand dropped.
Victoria moved first. Of course she did. One smooth step, and her blade was already cutting through the air toward my face. A strike so clean it hummed.
I barely got my sword up in time. Its impractical width serving as a substitute shield.
The impact rattled my hands. I wasn't parrying so much as surviving. Every clang felt like it shaved a year off my life expectancy.
She pressed forward, blow after blow, the rhythm merciless. It was all I could do to backpedal and block, my boots digging trenches in the dirt.
Gods, she's fast. I have to focus.
Her form was perfect, a textbook display of precision. Each strike carried a hefty weight, every angle measured. My shoulders screamed under the weight of my sword as I struggled to match her pace.
This wasn't like sparring with Elara, where every mistake became a lesson. This was survival.
"You're already faltering," Victoria cut in between strikes, calm despite the flurry of blades. "Your weapon betrays you. Too heavy, too crude. You cannot hope to match refined technique with your brute strength."
Ugh, she even insults like she's quoting a textbook. If she wasn't trying to take my head off, I'd almost applaud the delivery.
Another slash. I twisted, catching it with the flat of my blade, but her follow-up drove the point home... literally. The tip of her sword kissed my shoulder, just shallow enough to sting. She had pulled the strike at the last instant, but the meaning was crystal clear.
The crowd roared.
"Fuck off," I hissed through clenched teeth, mana surging but insufficient. My strikes were heavy, but she slipped through them like water. A translucent haze of mana shimmered faintly around her form.
She wasn't just faster, she was almost untouchable.
My chest burned. I could feel the two nebulas inside me swirling, restless. Every time I reached for them, they slipped away. Smug little bastards.
"Still clumsy," she stepped inside my guard, slamming a shoulder into my chest. I stumbled back, dust flying. "Mana wasted, Movements wasted, even your anger... wasted."
I swung my sword in a frustrated arc, strong enough to cleave any normal person in half. She easily ducked beneath it, her sword tracing a perfect path toward my neck.
I barely dodged the attack by twisting backwards, nearly falling on my ass.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"You've improved," She admitted, stepping back, "but not enough."
My heart raced. Sweat stung my eyes, arms aching from blocked strikes. She was dismantling me piece by piece—and the crowd loved it.
Not yet.
I tightened my grip, forcing myself to breathe. I couldn't beat her form for form. I couldn't match the strength of her mana. But I wasn't here to be perfect. I was here to fight.
The nebulas flared. Tearing at each other like storms. If I could just—control them.
My sword steadied. My breathing steadied. I needed to focus.
Not there yet—it's close. It's so close..
Victoria's blade suddenly drew a silver arc, faster than my eyes could track.
I knew instantly. There was no avoiding this one. I was caught completely open, my guard a fraction too slow. There was no block, no parry, no trick that could save me. Unless... unless those damn nebulas finally decided to stop being brats for once.
Time slowed. The sounds of the crowd faded, my ragged breath quieted. All I could hear was the thunder in my chest.
The nebulas. Those damn feisty storms I'd wrestled with for months. Always working against my will. I reached for them one last time. For some reason, the sensation this time was different.
I began to coax my mana, hoping for a miracle.
And... it worked. They finally relented.
The chaos in my chest folded inward, condensing. For the first time, instead of two uncontrollable beasts, they were obedient, they were mine. My will, my strength.
An unstoppable heat began to surge from my chest, spreading through my body, flooding every vein. The nebulas weren't fighting me anymore. They were mine, finally, finally mine. For months, they'd been like feral dogs yanking the leash in opposite directions. Now they bowed their heads and pulled with me.
Took them long enough. Could've used this revelation a few hundred bruises ago.
The world around me suddenly sharpened, my focus shifting as a brilliant haze exploded outward from my skin, clinging like armor. My previously beaten and exhausted body felt weightless.
Gods, this rush is enough to make me dizzy.
The fourth stage... Gravity.
Victoria's blade descended, but I was already gone. One sidestep was all it took for her perfect strike to slice air.
My muscles roared as I swung in a horizontal arc powered by this newfound surge of strength. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't elegant, but gods, it was heavy.
Victoria's eye widened in surprise as she tried to raise her sword to block the powerful strike. A small shockwave cracked as our blades collided.
Victoria staggered. I blinked. Did... did I just make Victoria Vaelstrad move her perfect little boots backward?
For the first time, all fight, she was on the defensive, her heels dug into the ground as my swing nearly knocked her completely off her feet.
The arena erupted, thousands of voices blending into bursts of disbelief and awe.
I pressed forward, my chest heaving, the haze of mana growing around me, now more than twice as dense as Victoria's. The once cumbersome sword now felt light as a feather. It flew through the air, every swing growing faster, heavier.
Victoria scrambled to make space, resetting her stance, jaw tight, blade trembling from the force of my blows.
"Well," she said, her calm demeanor folded, a smile creeping up her lips. "It seems you've been hiding more than I thought."
"Oh no," I retorted, smiling right back at her. "This is all brand new... and you get to be my testing dummy."
Victoria recovered faster than I expected. Her boots dug into the dirt, blade snapping back into guard. That calm demeanor she wore like armor was gone now.
"You think this changes anything?" she hissed. "I won't be overshadowed."
She lunged, faster, more reckless than before. Not polished form now. Desperation. Pride. Her blade hammered against mine, sparks flashing. Every strike rattled through me, but this time I didn't buckle. My arms moved like they'd been waiting for this. My swings weren't wild anymore; they had weight, purpose, inevitability.
She snarled between strikes, "This... isn't possible. You couldn't have—"
"Sorry," I grunted, catching her blade with a shift of mine, forcing it wide. "Guess I didn't read the manual."
Gasps burst from the crowd as I surged forward, pressing her. Each strike pushed her further back, the walls of the arena closing in from behind.
In a last-ditch effort, she condensed her mana around her arms. "I won't lose to someone like you."
She raised her sword high, mana swirling around her like a tempest. This wasn't just another strike. This was everything she had left, her perfect killing blow.
Her sword screamed toward me, much faster than any strike she'd used before.
The sudden increase in speed caught me off guard. My instincts blared. I focused all my energy through my body and unnaturally contorted, letting the weight of my sword carry me into a spin.
Her blade skimmed past me, close enough to graze fabric. I continued my spin, my sword arcing upwards into the strongest counterattack I could manage.
The impact rippled outward in a concussive blast.
Dust tore across the arena in a sudden wave, stinging the faces of the front row. I heard cadets cough, some even yelp, as if they'd been hit themselves.
Victoria's gleaming sword snapped clean in two, the pieces scattering like shards of glass.
She was hurled backward, her body slamming into the arena wall with a sickening crunch that made my stomach lurch.
Gasps rippled through the stands. Then silence—the kind that makes your ears ring.
Victoria slumped forward, one knee sinking into the dirt. The ruined hilt of her weapon dangled from her trembling grip. Her chest heaved. Her immaculate hair was a disheveled mess, her pristine uniform scuffed and torn.
She braced her hand against the ground, tried to rise. Pride shoved her upward, but her legs betrayed her. She dropped again with a choked breath.
The instructor raised a hand, his voice booming across the hushed arena.
"Enough! The duel is decided. Cadet Luna... is the victor!"
The silent arena burst. The crowd was loud enough to shake the earth. Cadets were on their feet, shouting, clapping, some even howling in disbelief.
I just stood there, sword still ringing from the strike, my breath ragged. My arms felt numb, my vision was swimming. The haze around me finally broke, leaving me hollow. My grip slipped, and the blade tip sank into the dirt with a heavy thunk.
"Hah.... huh." I wheezed. The exhaustion finally catching up to me.
Fucking hell... I actually did it.
I blinked sweat out of my eyes.
Victoria was still slumped against the wall, head bowed, hands trembling as she clutched the remnants of her broken sword. She didn't look at me. Not once. Her eyes stayed fixed on the shattered weapon in her grip, or maybe on herself.
I wanted to gloat. To toss one last line and drive the knife in.
But the way she knelt there—broken, but refusing to yield, shut me up.
Instead, I gave her a small, tired grin and muttered under my breath, "You're not so bad, let's do this again sometime."
The crowd couldn't hear me. But maybe she did.
The crowd hadn't calmed, but above it, I heard a voice I knew too well.
I looked up, and sure enough, there was Elara.
She was on her feet, hands cupped to her mouth, cheering louder than the rest of the academy combined.
"That's my little sister! That's my Luna! I knew you had it in you!"
Laughter rippled through the crowd, rolling like a wave. Even the stern instructors, the ones who never cracked for anything, were smiling at her shameless display.
My chest tightened, but not from exhaustion this time. Heat rushed up my face, sweat mixing with something dangerously close to tears.
Gods. She's embarrassing me in front of the entire academy.
I managed to lift one hand, just barely, and give her a shaky thumbs-up.
Her grin was wide enough to split her face.
After such an exhilarating fight, the aches in my body didn't feel quite so heavy.
Across the arena, Victoria groaned as she pushed herself upright, her back scraping against the stone wall. Dirt flaked from her once-pristine uniform. Her hair clung to her forehead in damp strands.
But the fire in her eyes? That hadn't dimmed. Not entirely.
She staggered once, caught herself, then straightened. The ruined hilt of her sword lifted as if it still mattered.
I blinked, heart still hammering. Swallowed hard. I wasn't sure if I was bracing for another attack... or something else entirely.
The crowd's cheers were deafening. But between us, there was silence.
She stepped forward. Her stare held me.
Then her voice, low and edged with something almost vulnerable, reached me alone.
"Luna... I want you."