The morning air was heavy with anticipation. Students crowded the grand arena, their chatter echoing through the marble arches. Today's sparring evaluations weren't just another test, they were a spectacle. Whispers of Kael Ardyn's "unusual abilities" had spread like wildfire, and now everyone wanted to see if the rumors were true.
Kael stood near the entrance tunnel, his expression calm but cold. Beneath his composure, his heart beat with the steady rhythm of a fighter preparing for war. He could feel the weight of the audience pressing against him, the stares, the curiosity, the doubt. Somewhere among them, Darius watched, waiting for a mistake.
Kael flexed his fingers. Not today.
A soft voice cut through his thoughts.
"You shouldn't be here alone before the matches."
He turned. Lira Ashveil leaned casually against the wall, her silvery-gray eyes sharp, calculating. The light caught on the crest embroidered onto her sleeve, an insignia of House Ashveil, one of the major noble families supporting the academy's inner council.
Kael narrowed his gaze. "Did Darius send you?"
She smiled faintly. "If he did, would I tell you?"
He didn't answer, studying her posture instead. She wasn't here to taunt him, not like Joren. There was something different about her: curiosity, not malice.
Lira tilted her head. "You've become quite the subject of gossip, Kael Ardyn. Unregistered techniques, untraceable origins, uncanny control. Even the instructors are starting to wonder."
"I train harder than most," Kael said, his voice low.
"Maybe," she replied. "Or maybe you're just better at hiding things."
Their eyes locked. For a brief moment, silence filled the space between them. Then she turned away, her cloak sweeping behind her. "Be careful in your match. Darius doesn't like mysteries he can't solve."
And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.
The announcement horn blared, signaling the start of the trials. The arena floor shimmered with protective runes as professors took their positions.
Kael's name was called in the third round. He stepped into the center circle, the roar of students filling his ears. Opposite him stood Joren, again. Darius's pawn. His smirk was gone today, replaced by quiet fury.
Professor Varin, one of Darius's known supporters, raised his hand. "Begin!"
Joren charged immediately, his brute strength shaking the floor. Kael sidestepped with ease, deflecting the heavy strike with minimal effort. The Genesis pulsed faintly beneath his skin, whispering for release, but Kael ignored it. This wasn't the time.
The crowd shouted. Some cheered for Joren; others jeered at Kael. Every move he made was under a microscope. One flicker of power, one unnatural movement, and suspicion would ignite again.
Joren's attacks grew more aggressive, faster, wilder. It was clear someone had told him to push. Sweat dripped down Kael's face as he focused on precision, never too fast, never too strong, always believable.
The whispers from the stands grew louder. "He's toying with him!" "No, he's using tricks, look at that movement!"
Darius sat among the upper seats, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes glittered with cold amusement.
Then it happened. Joren lunged with a spinning strike that would've shattered bone if it connected. Kael ducked, twisting his body at the last moment, and swept Joren's legs out from under him. The motion was perfect, too perfect. For an instant, the Genesis surged through his veins, enhancing his reflexes. A faint pulse of crimson light flared beneath his boots as Joren crashed to the ground.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
Kael froze.
The light was faint, barely visible but enough for sharp eyes.
Professor Varin frowned, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could, Kael took a deliberate step back and clenched his fist, forcing the Genesis down until the light died completely.
"I surrender," Joren growled, spitting blood. "Tch… lucky bastard."
Varin hesitated, then nodded stiffly. "Winner: Kael Ardyn."
The crowd murmured. Darius's smirk faltered for the briefest second before returning, colder than before. He hadn't gotten his proof but he had seen something.
After the match, Kael slipped out of the arena, ignoring the congratulations and murmurs. He walked the long corridor toward the storage rooms beneath the stands, seeking a moment of silence. But when he reached the last turn, he stopped.
Voices.
He pressed himself against the wall, listening.
"…told you, he's dangerous," someone whispered, a male voice, low and cautious.
"And Darius said to make sure the report reaches the council tonight," another replied. "They'll open an investigation if he uses any more forbidden techniques."
Kael's blood went cold. So it wasn't just rumors now. Darius was filing official complaints.
He peered around the corner just long enough to see two junior instructors carrying scrolls sealed with the Valen family crest.
Kael's mind raced. If those reports reached the council, his position at the academy would be compromised. Worse, if the council decided to inspect his essence signature, they might uncover the Genesis itself.
He stepped back silently, retreating into the shadows. The whispers of the Genesis stirred again, a predatory hum beneath his skin.
They move against you. Strike first. Destroy the proof.
He clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened. No. Not yet.
But as he returned to his dorm, a plan began to form, a quiet, dangerous plan. If Darius wanted to play politics, Kael would play in the shadows. No more waiting. No more reacting.
He would gather proof of Darius's manipulation and feed it back to the council, turning the serpent's venom against its own master.
For the first time, a small, grim smile touched Kael's lips.
"The game's begun, Darius," he murmured. "And this time, I play too."