Chapter 4 – Tournament Day at the Academy
At dawn, the academy square was alive with chatter and the sharp clatter of wooden blades. Today marked the traditional Novice Tournament—a rite of passage where each student would face an opponent in turn, and the winners would advance to the next round.
Elias gripped his wooden sword, heart pounding with anticipation. Beside him stood Riven, his dark hair framing sharp, calculating eyes. Agile, precise, and already respected as one of the academy's most promising duelists, Riven radiated quiet confidence.
Commander Aldren's voice boomed across the square:
"Welcome, students! Today is not only about strength—it is about strategy, patience, and clarity of mind. Fight fairly. Do not rush. This is not a race, but a chance to discover your own limits."
The matches began, one after another, the square echoing with the crisp strikes of wood meeting wood. Elias faced his first opponent, a younger student, and dispatched him quickly, all while carefully maintaining his balance and breathing. Riven, meanwhile, flowed through his bouts with calculated grace, parrying and striking with dazzling speed.
Between rounds, Lyra leaned toward Elias with a hushed whisper.
"You were incredible. But did you see Riven? He's… formidable."
Elias smiled faintly, determination flickering in his eyes.
"Yes. All the more reason for me to test myself against him."
As the rounds thinned, only the strongest and most disciplined remained. Elias advanced, his focus sharpening with every clash, while Riven claimed victory in his own bracket. When the dust settled, it was clear—the two would meet in the final.
Wooden swords collided with a sharp crack. Elias moved with balance and precision, drawing on every lesson drilled into him. Yet Riven's strikes were swift, his counters relentless. Where Elias hesitated, Riven pressed. Where Elias sought stability, Riven found openings.
After a flurry of exchanges, Riven disarmed him. Elias's sword clattered to the ground, and his footing faltered.
Riven extended a hand, his expression softened by a faint smile.
"You fought well. All you need now is more practice."
Elias clasped his hand firmly, eyes burning with resolve.
"Thank you… but next time, I'll be the one ahead."
When the tournament concluded, the students drifted back to their dormitories. Boys and girls lived in separate halls, under the watch of strict supervisors who patrolled the grounds diligently.
As Elias lay in his bunk, staring at the stone ceiling, the day's battles replayed in his mind—the strikes, the lessons, and the defeat that sparked something deeper within him.
From across the room, Riven passed by and gave him a subtle nod.
"Tomorrow, we'll meet again, Thorn."
Elias returned the gesture with a quiet smile.
"I'll be ready."
That night, as the academy's stone corridors grew silent and students slowly drifted into sleep, Elias lingered on his thoughts. He had glimpsed both his limits and the edge of his rival's skill. Yet in the depths of his heart, a new spark of determination flickered to life—one that promised this was only the beginning.