Morning broke slow and pale over the Academy of Fangs. The stone walls caught the first light, washing the towers in muted silver as if the school itself had just awoken from a dream of fire and shadows. Within the small dormitory chamber assigned to him, Ash Vale stirred. His body ached, not with the soreness of broken bones but with the deep strain of muscles that had been pushed beyond what they knew. Every breath carried with it faint memories of last night's duel: Caius Serpentis's eyes flashing with serpentine fury, the hiss of conjured fangs, the oppressive weight of the hydra's shadow pressing against the edges of reality.
Ash lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling beams, allowing those images to replay in flickers. His own responses in the duel hadn't felt like mere instinct. Something within him had sharpened each movement, each counter. The whispers of the Strategos Codex had guided his hand when his mind faltered. It hadn't been strength alone that let him survive—it had been calculation. Calculation, and something else. A surge he couldn't name.
Strength invites both challenge and chains, the Codex murmured now, its voice sliding through his thoughts as naturally as breath. Win a battle, and you will be tested again. Win recognition, and you will be bound by the weight of expectation. Beware, Ash Vale, for glory and shackles are often the same metal.
Ash exhaled slowly. He wasn't yet sure if the Codex's counsel was a blessing or a curse. It spoke like a mentor, yet always with the tone of a tempter, a whisper pushing him toward roads not yet paved.
Still, there was no time to dwell. His stomach growled, and the day awaited. He dressed, pulling the standard gray-accented robes of a novice mage around his shoulders, and stepped into the corridors that already buzzed with rumor.
---
The dining hall was no longer the same place it had been before the duel. Ash felt it the moment he entered. It wasn't silence that greeted him, but the subtle shifting of dozens of eyes. Tables that had once been indifferent now bent toward him like plants straining for sunlight—or recoiling from shadow. Conversations dipped when he passed, words turning into half-whispers.
"—the way he faced Serpentis—"
"—impossible, he's not even of noble blood—"
"—Caius acknowledged him. Did you see? He bowed his head at the end—"
"—disgraceful, letting a commoner—"
Ash kept his gaze forward, though each murmur pricked like a needle. The respect was there, yes, but so too was resentment. In the world of nobility, even triumph carried a cost.
And then the impossible happened.
Caius Serpentis, scion of one of the oldest bloodlines, walked through the hall with the same regal stride he always bore. Whispers rose again, hushed like waves crashing against stone. And without hesitation, Caius veered from his family's long table and sat across from Ash.
The entire hall stilled. Forks paused. Conversations froze.
"Vale," Caius said with a faint grin tugging his lips. His tone was calm, measured, but there was a glint in his eye that only Ash could see. "Still breathing, I see. I was half-convinced you'd collapse in your sleep after what we threw at each other."
Ash blinked, then allowed a half-smile. "And I thought you'd still be sulking, scion of Serpentis. To sit with me in the open—are you trying to scandalize your peers?"
"Perhaps," Caius replied smoothly, leaning back. "Or perhaps I'm merely curious to see how the Academy reacts when the 'commoner' and the 'serpent heir' break bread together. Consider it… an experiment."
Laughter, low but genuine, escaped Ash's throat. It was strange—after all that venom on the field, to share humor here. And yet, there was an edge beneath the amusement. A bond forged not of friendship, not yet, but of respect and rivalry.
Across the hall, Darius Redthorne sat at his family's table, eyes narrowed like a hawk. He didn't speak, but his lackeys whispered in corners, muttering about insults to noble pride. Ash noticed, though he gave no sign. Darius's silence was louder than words.
The meal passed under the weight of stares and shifting allegiances. When Caius finally rose, he did so with an almost theatrical bow of his head toward Ash, ensuring every watching noble saw. Then he departed, leaving the hall to ripple with speculation. Ash finished his meal slowly, letting the storm brew.
---
By midday, the lecture hall was crowded, the air thick with anticipation. Students shuffled parchment, whispered names of ancient families, and wondered if today's lesson had been planned deliberately in the wake of the duel.
The professor entered, robes trailing, his presence commanding silence without effort. His hair was silver, his eyes sharp, a man who had clearly seen more than one battlefield despite the walls of academia.
"Yesterday," the professor began, his voice carrying to every corner, "you witnessed the unveiling of heritage not often seen in these walls. Caius Serpentis, heir of Naga Moros, the Ebon Hydra, allowed you a glimpse into what it means to bear the mark of a Mythic Bloodline."
Murmurs flared instantly. Caius kept his gaze steady, though his jaw tightened at the attention.
The professor's hand traced sigils in the air, forming a glowing image of a many-headed serpent, its eyes burning crimson, its form wreathed in black flame. "The Naga Moros. The Ebon Hydra. A beast said to dwell in the void between rivers of the underworld. Each head a voice of destruction, each death birthing two more. The Serpentis line carries this curse and gift in equal measure. Half-awakenings, such as you witnessed, are perilous. Power without full control. A glimpse of legacy unshackled."
The class sat in stunned silence.
"But the Hydra," the professor continued, "is not alone. Throughout history, other mythic bloodlines have shaped the balance of empires." With a sweep of his hand, new illusions shimmered into life above him.
A bird wreathed in crimson flame rose, its ashes scattering like stars.
"The Ashen Phoenix of House Ignivar. Fire and rebirth, feared and revered."
A colossal dragon's silhouette coiled, wings spanning the hall, crowned in starlight.
"The Celestial Wyvern of House Drakonith. Dominion and skyborn wrath."
A chimera of pale skin and beastly parts shifted, its body never still, eyes multiple and unfocused.
"The Pale Chimera of House Lunaris. Unpredictable, unstable, yet unmatched in ferocity."
A serpent, emerald and vast, its gaze petrifying stone, slithered through the illusion.
"The Verdant Basilisk of House Sylvath. Forest and fang, death in a glance."
Each name sent a ripple through the hall. Some students lowered their heads, others straightened proudly, though none spoke. Ash studied their faces, recognizing hints of ownership. These were not myths alone—they were sitting among him.
The Codex stirred, whispers curling like smoke in his thoughts. They name them as legends, Vale. They do not tell you of the wars waged to harness them, the rivers of blood spilled to cage beasts within men. Remember: power that comes from birth is a chain gilded in lies.
Ash swallowed, forcing himself to focus outward.
Caius's hand clenched atop his desk, knuckles white. Pride and shame warred across his face. For all his bravado, it was clear the lecture's weight pressed heavier on him than any spell.
---
When class ended, the real daggers came not from illusions but from tongues. A cluster of minor nobles circled Caius as he left the hall, their smiles too polished.
"Marvelous duel, Serpentis," one said, voice dripping honey. "Though… unexpected to see such ancient might fail against one without pedigree."
"Indeed," another murmured. "Still, a Serpentis bowing to a Vale? Times must truly be changing."
Their laughter was quiet but cruel.
Caius's eyes narrowed. "Better to bow to strength than to live on borrowed pride. At least I faced him myself, while you snipe from shadows." His words cut clean, and for a moment, silence fell. The nobles retreated with tight smiles, masks cracking.
Ash had watched from a distance, and in that instant, he saw it: despite noble blood, Caius stood as alone as he did. Both outcasts, though in different ways. Both marked by the duel.
---
Night fell, and Ash returned to his chamber. The room was quiet save for the flicker of a single candle. He opened the Strategos Codex, its pages glowing faintly, alive with secrets.
The visions came unbidden—ancient fields torn asunder. Colossal hydras coiled against phoenix fire, leviathans dragging towers into seas, chimeras shrieking across mountains. Armies of men bent their knees to monsters who bore crowns of scale and feather alike.
Bloodlines are blessings and shackles alike, the Codex intoned. They shape empires, yet they consume their bearers. Yours is not yet revealed, Ash Vale. But it stirs. It will demand to be known, and when it awakens, you must choose: will you be master, or slave?
The candle flickered, and Ash closed the book with a shiver.
---
A knock came at his door. He opened it to find Caius Serpentis standing in the corridor, moonlight catching in his pale hair.
"Vale," Caius said, arms crossed. "Don't look so surprised. I had to see it for myself. The one who forced me to awaken before I was ready."
Ash raised a brow. "And here I thought you came to thank me."
Caius smirked faintly. "Perhaps both. But make no mistake—we are not finished. Someday, we duel again. Not as half-formed shadows of our legacies, but with all that we are. Until then, consider me your rival. And perhaps… your ally, when it suits me."
His tone softened, just enough. "You've stepped into our world now. Bloodline or not, commoner or not, you'll never walk without shadows at your back. Remember that."
With that, he turned, cloak swirling, vanishing into the dark halls.
Ash closed the door slowly, the words lingering. He moved to the window, gazing at the moonlit towers of the Academy. The weight of recognition pressed heavy on his shoulders—equal parts awe and dread.
And for the first time, he understood: the duel had been a beginning, not an end.