Aura burned through my veins like wildfire.It wasn't gentle. It wasn't controlled. It roared like a living inferno, tearing at me from the inside out. Scarlet light erupted from my core, coiling around my limbs until the air itself seemed to warp. The stone beneath my boots groaned and cracked, dust erupting like miniature geysers with every pulse of my power.
And then I moved.
Quick Step fused with aura, my body stretching and snapping through the battlefield. Each motion left streaks of red afterimages, ghosts of motion that twisted the eye. The air around me sang as Codex arcs detonated with every swing of my blade, shockwaves that rattled stone and made the arena's torches flicker violently. The world itself seemed to recoil.
She was waiting.
Christine.
Her silver blade met me like a wall of moonlight, cutting through the storm of scarlet fire. Each parry was measured, deliberate, flawless. Sparks exploded from every clash, cascading down like molten stars, and I could feel the heat of her precision against my own fury. Her technique was untouchable, a manifestation of skill honed to perfection — enough to shatter the confidence of any novice before the fight even began.
And yet, for the first time since I had known her…Christine staggered back. Half a step. Barely an inch.
But it was enough.
Her gray eyes locked onto mine, a storm of clarity and recognition contained within a calm surface. Even in her surprise, there was no fear. Only… awe, sharp and fleeting."You've grown… terrifyingly fast."
Christine's POV
Impossible.
The word screamed in my mind as our blades clashed. He pushed me back.
Weeks ago, Adrian Kaelthorn fumbled through drills like a child barely admitted into the academy. He could not even maintain a steady mana thread without it sputtering into nothingness. At best, he had been a C+ Rank, a boy with determination but without foundation.
And now… this.
Scarlet aura poured from him like a living storm. Each swing threatened to shatter my guard, not with precise technique, but with weight that should have been unmanageable for someone at his stage. His body should have faltered under it. It should have crumpled. But it did not. He endured. He wielded it.
Something impossible was standing before me.
I steadied my stance, feet biting into the stone floor, shoulders squared. I would not allow him to see hesitation. To yield ground was to yield authority. I was Christine Veynar — the silver crown of this arena — and I would not falter.
Yet the whispers of the chamber betrayed me.
Audience Reaction
A First-Year's voice tore through the clash:"He made Christine step back!"
Another shrieked, high-pitched and trembling:"No one's ever done that! She dismantled the Second-Year Captain without moving an inch!"
Shock rippled through the stands, leaping from student to student like electricity. First-Years roared Adrian's name, voices raw with awe and disbelief. Second-Years murmured, some with worry, some with scowls, others silently reassessing the balance of power.
Even the professors stiffened. Another leaned forward, lips tight, eyes sharp. What they saw broke centuries of precedent. Growth like this… was not supposed to happen.
And above them all, Raven — ever-smirking, ever-calm — lost the curve of his lips. His smirk cracked into something harder, colder. His narrowed eyes cut the chamber like daggers."…So. That's the threat."
Back to the Duel
Our blades collided again.
Aura slammed against aura — crimson storm against silver crown. Each impact sent shivers through the floor, mana erupting in chaotic arcs. Lightning-like fractures crawled across the stone, glowing faintly with residual energy. Every strike carried weight beyond pride or skill, as if the duel itself threatened to decide something far larger than either of us.
My arms trembled violently under the strain. The scarlet fire within clawed at my flesh and bone, demanding more, always more. My lungs burned as if I were inhaling sparks instead of air. Still, I swung. Still, I pressed forward. The inferno inside me refused to bow.
And Christine — she met me blow for blow. Her silver steel shone like a beacon, each strike a deliberate counter to my wild tempest. Her body moved with honed instinct, fluid, controlled, a rhythm perfected through years of discipline. If my swings were firestorms, hers were silver lightning, precise and devastating.
Steel screamed. Aura roared. The air itself twisted under the force.
Christine's POV
This boy.
Every time I thought his momentum should break, he surged again, as if each limit were nothing more than fuel for his fire. Raw. Untamed. His aura spilled into the arena like reckless flame. Against any disciplined duelist, he should have faltered, collapsed, burned out.
And yet… he did not.
The ferocity, the sheer weight of will — it forced me back. It made my arms ache, muscles scream. My brow dampened with sweat. For the first time in years, I felt the creeping edge of strain, the whisper of real uncertainty. One misstep, one lapse in judgment, and his storm would devour me.
No First-Year should make me feel this.No one should.
And yet he did.
The Final Clash
The storm reached its crescendo.
Both of us knew it. There could be no prolonging this. Bodies stretched to breaking. Auras nearly spent, flickering like dying suns.
Adrian roared, scarlet flames fusing into a blade of pure, burning intent. My silver crown flared in response, threads of mana weaving like a mantle of authority. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
One step.One swing.
Our blades collided.
The chamber drowned in light — crimson fire against silver radiance. The explosion devoured sound, swallowed stone and sight alike. Shockwaves rolled outward, tearing at banners, rattling torches. Mana spiraled into tornadoes that twisted the very air.
For a heartbeat, the world was nothing but brilliance. Then the echoes came — thunderous reverberations that made hearts skip. Sparks rained down, molten stars scattering over shattered stone. My arms trembled violently, burning with exertion. His gaze met mine through the inferno — unyielding, unbroken.
When the light finally receded, we stood pressed together. Blades locked. Sweat and ash slicked the arena floor. Every muscle screamed. Every breath burned.
My aura sputtered. Sparks fell from my blade like dying stars. His flames flickered into embers, trembling but refusing to vanish.
Then his knees struck the stone.
Adrian collapsed, lungs heaving like bellows, arms too heavy to lift. Yet his eyes… they burned. Unbroken. Unyielding.
I still stood, barely. Grip trembling on my hilt, chest heaving. I had not been defeated. Neither had I triumphed.
For the first time, I had been forced to fight in earnest.
Silence swallowed the chamber.
The Verdict
I exhaled, letting the tip of my blade dip slightly. My voice, calm and firm, carried through the hush:"A tie."
The chamber erupted.
First-Years screamed his name, raw with awe and disbelief. Second-Years whispered in shaking voices, hierarchy and pride unraveling with each shout. Professors exchanged sharp, wary glances, calculating futures in flickering glances.
And I remained still. Watching him.
Christine's POV
I looked down at Adrian Kaelthorn.The boy who once stumbled through drills. The boy whose aura wavered and faltered. The boy who burned with reckless desire but lacked discipline, control, refinement.
That boy was gone.
In his place knelt someone who had forced me — Christine Veynar — to acknowledge strain. To call a duel against a First-Year a tie.
Vice president. That is what he called me when he asked to join his guild. I had signed, curious, amused. But now… I understood.
This was not arrogance. This was inevitability.
I raised my blade in salute, my voice carrying across the chamber:"You have my recognition, Adrian Kaelthorn. You are worthy of the Apex Class… and of the guild you dream of building."
Adrian's POV
Her words struck harder than any blow.
My body collapsed fully, muscles screaming, aura burned to ash. But inside, something refused to dim. Not survival. Not victory.
Recognition.
Christine Veynar — mentor, rival, vice president — had looked at me not as a student, not as a subordinate, but as an equal.
And in that moment, through exhaustion and fire, I understood:
This was not the end.It was only the beginning.