The arena still smelled of scorched mana and churned earth. The last echoes of the duel—Caius Serpentis's collapse, Ash standing bloodied but unbroken—lingered like a storm that had passed but left the skies unsettled. Silence hung heavy. Nobles shifted in their seats, some with disbelief written across their faces, others with poorly veiled contempt. Common-born students stared wide-eyed, torn between awe and fear.
Ash felt his chest rise and fall, each breath scraping his throat raw. His mana core throbbed, protesting the reckless expenditure. He could feel the bruises where Caius's magic had nearly broken through, and beneath it all, the Codex hummed like a second heartbeat, cold and calculating.
You stood. He fell. Remember that in this world, nothing speaks louder than survival.
The whisper slid across his mind like steel drawn from a sheath. Ash did not reply. He could not. His body screamed for rest, yet he refused to bend, refused to show weakness. In the crowd's silence, weakness was death.
Then, as if on cue, the stillness shattered.
"By the Nine Circles, Ash! You absolute madman!"
A voice rang out, high and booming with nervous excitement. From the stands, a mop of messy brown hair and a too-wide grin came barreling forward. Garrick Hollow, second son of House Hollow, minor nobles of the western reaches, nearly tripped over the barrier in his rush to reach the arena floor.
Students gasped. A few sneered at the lack of decorum. But Garrick either didn't notice or didn't care. He bounded to Ash's side, clapping him so hard on the back that Ash nearly stumbled.
"You toppled Caius Serpentis. Do you have any idea what you've done? That was—by the stars, that was glorious!" His words tumbled over each other, laughter bubbling between them.
Ash glanced sidelong at him, sweat stinging his eyes. "I survived."
"Survived?!" Garrick's eyes widened comically. "You didn't just survive, my friend—you outmaneuvered the Serpent's Heir. With everyone watching! The way you stood there—like some grim champion carved from stone—and then bam!" He mimed a sweeping gesture so exaggerated he nearly smacked a bystander.
Laughter rippled among some of the lower-ranked students. The nobles frowned deeper. Yet Ash felt the tension in the air ease slightly. Garrick's exuberance had broken the suffocating silence.
Useful, the Codex murmured. Fools disarm fear. This one shields you in ways even steel cannot.
Ash gave Garrick the faintest nod. It was all he could spare, but Garrick lit up as if handed a crown.
Professors descended then, robes sweeping like banners of judgment. The most senior among them—a gaunt man with ink-stained fingers—knelt briefly over the scorched tiles where Caius had collapsed. His face was pale. "A half-awakening… in a duel between students." His voice carried both awe and reproach.
Another professor, younger and sharper of tongue, snapped, "And the boy with no crest stood against it. What are we breeding here?"
Murmurs spread like fire through dry grass. Noble students whispered, their eyes darting between Ash and Caius's unconscious form as attendants carried the latter away. Pride wounded, but not slain.
A bell tolled, sharp and commanding. The crowd stilled. From the balcony above, the Principal rose. His presence was not loud, not flamboyant, but it carried the weight of mountains. His robe, embroidered with constellations of silver thread, caught the torchlight as he raised one hand.
"Enough."
The word cut through whispers like a blade. Even Garrick straightened, though his grin lingered.
"Both duelists," the Principal's gaze swept down, first at Ash, then toward the attendants carrying Caius, "to my study. Immediately."
The crowd erupted once more, but now with the fever of gossip. Ash's knees nearly buckled from exhaustion, but Garrick steadied him with an arm around his shoulder.
"Look at you," Garrick muttered under his breath, tone half-teasing, half-concerned. "Dragged before the Principal himself. You've made it, Ash. Or maybe you've doomed yourself. Either way, I'll walk you there."
Ash wanted to protest, but his throat was too dry. He simply nodded.
---
The Principal's study smelled of parchment, ink, and incense. High windows let in fading light, casting long shadows across shelves lined with tomes older than the Academy itself. At the center sat a great desk of dark oak, behind which the Principal himself rested his hands, fingers steepled.
Caius Serpentis stood already to one side, pale but conscious, his pride wrapped about him like armor. His serpent-crest pendant glimmered faintly at his throat, the faint echo of his bloodline's awakening still clinging to him like smoke. His eyes burned as they fixed on Ash.
Ash stepped forward, Garrick reluctantly waiting by the door after the Principal's sharp glance silenced his protests. Ash felt the room constrict around him. Every shadow seemed to weigh.
"You," the Principal said, his gaze first locking onto Caius, "recklessly invoked your bloodline in a sanctioned duel. Do you understand the consequences, young Serpentis?"
Caius's jaw clenched. "He forced my hand. He is no mere commoner—he fought with cunning that demanded my blood."
The Principal's eyes narrowed, sharp as razors. "Your bloodline is not a toy to be flung at every challenger who unsettles your pride." His tone softened into steel. "Control, Caius. Without it, even power becomes weakness."
Caius flushed but said nothing. His fists trembled at his sides.
Then the Principal's gaze shifted to Ash. It was heavier somehow, not scolding, but probing. "And you. You who entered these halls with neither crest nor noble name. Tell me—how did you stand against what should have overwhelmed you utterly?"
Ash felt the weight of every whisper outside that room pressing against his skin. The Codex stirred in his mind, its voice low and deliberate.
Do not boast. Do not deny. Acknowledge skill, but not source. Offer just enough truth to be unassailable.
Ash inclined his head. "I studied. I observed. Caius fought with ferocity, but patterns reveal themselves in every style. Once I saw them, I exploited them."
A flicker passed through the Principal's eyes. Amusement? Approval? Or calculation? "You speak like one far older than your years. And yet…" His gaze sharpened. "Your grasp of those patterns—too precise. Too refined for instinct alone. Where did you learn such observation?"
Ash's throat tightened. The Codex whispered, Deflect. Redirect.
"I learned in the slums," Ash said, voice steady despite the dryness in his throat. "Survival teaches many lessons. A wrong step means a knife at your back. If I learned to read the flow of a fight, it was because I had no choice."
The silence stretched. Then the Principal leaned back, fingers drumming lightly on his desk. "Perhaps. Or perhaps the world has yet to see what truly lurks within you."
He looked between them—Ash and Caius. "I will not expel either of you. Not yet. But know this: you are under watch. Both of you. For one of you has shown recklessness unfit for his station, and the other… an ambition that unsettles the established order."
Caius's lips curled, half-snarl, half-smirk. His eyes met Ash's, and for the first time, hatred was tempered by something else—respect, grudging but undeniable.
"You won today," Caius muttered, voice low enough that only Ash heard. "But don't mistake survival for dominance. Next time, you won't walk away whole."
Ash met his gaze calmly, though his heart pounded. "Then I'll prepare for next time."
The Principal's eyes glimmered. "Good. Rivalry breeds strength, if it does not breed ruin. Dismissed."
---
The sun had dipped low by the time Ash and Garrick stepped back into the courtyard. The crowd had dispersed, though whispers still lingered like smoke. Garrick immediately threw an arm around Ash's shoulders, ignoring the stares.
"Well," Garrick said, "that went better than expected. No expulsion, no public flogging, no fiery doom. I'd call that a win." He grinned, then added in a mock whisper, "Though Caius looked at you like a wolf denied dinner."
Ash almost smiled. Almost.
They walked the long path back toward the dormitories. Garrick filled the silence with chatter—about professors, about the duel retold with embellishments, about the sorry state of the cafeteria's meat pies. Beneath the bluster, though, his loyalty shone clear.
At the door to Ash's quarters, Garrick finally paused. His grin softened. "You shook the whole Academy today, Ash. Some hate you for it. Some admire you. Me? I just think it's damn impressive. Just… don't burn yourself out proving it every day, alright?"
Ash studied him, then gave a faint nod. Garrick grinned again, slapped him on the shoulder, and bounded off into the shadows.
---
Inside his room, silence returned. Ash collapsed onto the narrow bed, muscles screaming in relief. The Codex stirred immediately, voice sharper than ever.
Fool. You think victory frees you? Victory chains you. Every triumph breeds rivals. Every display paints a target on your back. You are no longer invisible, boy. Remember that.
Ash closed his eyes, exhaustion pressing him down. "Then what do I do?"
The Codex's whisper curled like smoke. You do what all great strategists do. You turn every enemy into a stepping stone. And you never, ever forget—the war has only just begun.
Ash lay still, the weight of those words heavier than the day's wounds. Outside, the Academy hummed with whispers of the common-born who defied a noble heir. Inside, the Codex's voice lingered, dark and unyielding.
The night stretched on, and Ash understood: this was not the end of a duel. It was the beginning of a war.