The Academy whispered.
It was not the kind of idle gossip that vanished by nightfall, but a lingering, venomous murmur that curled around every corridor Ash walked. He felt it on his skin as much as he heard it—admiring glances from some, bitter envy from others, and the ever-present sting of nobles whose laughter carried the sharpness of blades.
Ash had been marked. Not only as the orphan who somehow clawed his way into these hallowed halls, but as the one who had dared humiliate Caius Serpentis.
House Serpentis was no minor name. Their crest—a coiled emerald serpent—was carved into the stonework of noble estates across the kingdom. Their lineage stretched back to the founding wars. Their heir was meant to be untouchable.
Yet Caius had been forced to lower his head before the slum-born.
You have overturned a stone that should have been left untouched, the Strategos Codex whispered in Ash's mind. Now every crawling thing beneath it will seek to bite.
Ash's jaw tightened, but his expression gave nothing away. He had learned early in the gutters that weakness was meat for predators. That lesson had not changed here.
"Ash!"
Garrick's booming voice barrelled through the crowded hallway. His lumbering frame shoved aside a cluster of students without so much as a glance, his grin wide and stupid as ever. "There you are! Why're you walking like you're headed for your own funeral? You're the Academy's most famous lad now."
Ash gave him a flat look. "Famous isn't the same as safe."
Garrick blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. "Safe? Nothing's safe in this place. But come on, lad, you've done what no one else had the guts to do. You took that smug snake and wrung his tail. Half the nobles hate you, aye—but the other half are secretly thrilled someone finally did it."
"That makes them dangerous too."
"Bah." Garrick clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. "Don't brood so much. When Caius challenges you again, I'll be the loudest one in the stands, cheering you on. You'll thank me when you hear my beautiful voice carry over the din."
Ash muttered something under his breath, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite himself. Garrick had a way of softening the edges, even if only for a breath.
But the reprieve did not last. By the time they reached the open-air training grounds, the atmosphere had thickened like storm clouds.
A ring of students had already gathered in the sanded circle. Their chatter rose and fell like the tide, sharp with anticipation. At the center stood Caius Serpentis.
He was every inch the noble heir: tall and lean, black hair combed with meticulous precision, green eyes glinting with cold arrogance. His robes were high-collared and dark, embroidered subtly with the serpent crest at his chest—wealthy, but restrained. Caius never needed gaudiness to remind others of his station. His very bearing did the work for him.
His gaze fixed on Ash the moment he stepped into view.
"Ash of nowhere," Caius called, his voice smooth and precise, each syllable honed like a blade. "I will not suffer your shadow any longer. Step forward. Face me. Let this Academy witness your worth—or the lack thereof."
The crowd hissed, stirred, leaned in closer.
Ash's steps carried him slowly into the circle. The sun bore down, hot against the sand, but he felt only the weight of eyes upon him. Dozens of students, instructors, even a scattering of attendants lingered at the edge.
"If you need all of them to bear witness before you dare face me," Ash replied, his voice steady, "perhaps you've already lost."
A ripple ran through the gathered students. Some gasped, others laughed outright, their hands covering mouths as though to soften the sound. Caius's jaw tensed, though his face remained a mask of composure.
The duel was sanctioned then and there. No instructor stepped forward to forbid it. Too many noble eyes glittered with anticipation. Too many desired to see blood drawn.
The circle widened. The crowd pressed back, murmuring, the sand beneath their boots shifting as space opened between fighters and spectators.
Caius raised a wand of polished blackwood capped with a green gem that gleamed in the sunlight. "Your existence is an insult to bloodlines carved in conquest," he said coldly. "Today, I erase it."
Ash lifted only his bare hands. Threads of mana coursed under his skin, aligning as the Strategos Codex hummed in the marrow of his bones.
Picture the battlefield, the voice commanded. Do not see one noble, see an army. His stance is his line. His spells, his cavalry. Break formation. Sever supply. Victory lies not in strength, but in foresight.
The duel began.
Caius struck first. A serpent of emerald flame leapt from his wand, scales shimmering, fangs bared. It tore across the circle with lethal grace, jaws gaping wide.
Ash moved. A sidestep, sharp and narrow, the serpent hissing past his shoulder close enough to sear. His hand flicked, mana threads coalescing into a barrier. The serpent slammed against it, sparks scattering, flames licking his skin. Pain bit hot, but he endured.
The crowd roared.
From the edge, Garrick bellowed above them all: "On your toes, Ash! Make the noble dance like a puppet on strings!"
Ash exhaled, steadying his focus. The serpent was not a beast. It was cavalry—fast, overwhelming, a hammer meant to break lines.
Break the charge with terrain, the Codex whispered. Force it to stumble.
Ash's palm brushed the sand. Mana bled into the ground, hardening the surface into uneven ridges. When Caius unleashed another serpent, its path faltered, thrown wide as the flame hissed and dissipated in a scatter of sparks.
A ripple of shock ran through the crowd.
Caius's lips curved, though it was no smile. "Parlor tricks. You think street-born improvisation will save you from legacy?"
"Effective tricks," Ash returned calmly.
They circled, predator and prey, though neither yielded the roles. Caius moved with cultivated elegance, every gesture sharp, every spell deliberate. Ash moved with instinct refined by whispers only he could hear, grit honed into something sharper than steel.
Spell met counter. Sparks lit the sand. Gasps and laughter rippled with every exchange.
And then Caius's eyes hardened, a glint of something colder flashing within them. His voice dropped, carrying venom without raising volume. "I tire of games. Let me show you what true bloodline means."
Mana surged. Heavy, oppressive, spilling into the circle like a suffocating tide. His wand carved precise arcs, weaving a pattern older than most of the Academy's textbooks.
The Codex's whisper sharpened into steel. Careful. This is no student's trick. His House arms him with legacy spells. To falter now is to be broken.
The air thickened, trembling with the shape of something vast and coiled.
Ash steadied his breath. His own mana rose to meet it, every line and channel within him aligning under the Codex's guidance.
The sand quivered. The crowd held its breath. Garrick's booming cheer faltered into silence.
Caius's spell crescendoed. The serpent rose, greater, sharper, more vicious than before.
And Ash's vision blurred into something else entirely.
Soldiers clashing, banners tearing, fire raining from the heavens. Not a duel in sand, but a battlefield in storm and blood. Two armies, locked, their fates tipping on a single maneuver.
Ash's heart hammered once, twice. He saw the opening. He knew the move.
The first true clash between them was about to tear the world apart.