A full week passed in the blink of an eye, and with it arrived the long-anticipated day of the duels.
Just as Zevi had predicted, news of the three matches had spread like wildfire throughout the academy. By sunrise, there wasn't a single corridor untouched by whispers, speculation, and exaggerated rumors.
Rax and his group had not remained idle either. In fact, they had moved first, quietly planting false stories among the student body.
According to their version of events, Ashan and his friends had instigated everything. They painted Nevil as reckless, Zevi as arrogant, and Ashan as a manipulative instigator hiding behind others.
By the time duel day arrived, the narrative had twisted enough that many neutral students no longer knew what to believe.
That morning, the entire academy gathered at the main arena. Professors occupied the elevated seating reserved for faculty, students filled the surrounding tiers in restless clusters, and even high-ranking officials had taken interest in the spectacle.
At the center stood the massive arena floor, gleaming beneath protective barrier arrays. Above it, a colossal screen displayed the duel lineup in bold lettering.
Round One – Nevil Arashan vs. Tyron Hanash
Round Two – Zevi Starwell vs. Rax Zayden
Round Three – Ashan Ashvale vs. Rianne Varos
Despite the crowd's anticipation, none of the duelists had appeared yet.
Maren stood near the central balcony, her posture relaxed, her gaze lazily sweeping across the empty arena floor.
"They haven't arrived yet," she remarked, her tone casual. "I expected personal duels… but not something drawing this much attention so early in the semester."
She turned slightly toward her secretary.
"Give me the details of those students."
The secretary immediately activated her tablet, scrolling through files with efficient precision.
"There are three pairs," she began. "First round: Nevil Arashan versus Tyron Hanash. Both are B-rank combat fighters. Records indicate that Tyron Hanash is the son of a high-ranking government official."
Maren hummed thoughtfully.
"And the second?"
"Zevi Starwell versus Rax Zayden. Both A-rankers. Zevi is registered as a battle mage. Rax is a combat fighter."
Maren's eyes narrowed slightly in recognition.
"Oh? Aren't those two the ones who fought before enrolling here?"
"Yes," the secretary confirmed. "Though it wasn't widely publicized, archived records show that Zevi challenged Rax prior to admission, and won."
A faint smile tugged at Maren's lips.
"Interesting. Continue."
"Rax Zayden is the son of the well-known A-ranker Garron Zayden."
At that name, Maren exhaled through her nose.
"Ah… Garron Zayden. That insufferably arrogant man. If that's his son, I doubt humility runs in the family."
"And Zevi?" she asked.
"Zevi's parents are unknown. He was raised by a retired B-rank combat fighter. There are indications that this retired fighter and Garron Zayden share a… strained history."
Maren gave a knowing look.
"That explains more than enough. The second duel might be the most entertaining."
She glanced back at the screen.
"And the third match?"
"A mage, Rianne Varos, versus a battle mage, Ashan Ashvale. Both B-rank."
Maren blinked.
"Ashan Ashvale… isn't he the one who was selected for the beginner duels?"
"Yes. The same student. He demonstrated notable performance during those matches."
Maren folded her arms.
"I remember hearing about him. He climbed rather quickly for a B-rank. So what sparked all three duels?"
The secretary hesitated briefly.
"From gathered information, it began with a student named Nevil. He is reportedly in a relationship with a first-year student named Elara. During breakfast one morning, Tyron, Rax, and Rianne confronted and humiliated the girl. Ashan and Zevi were present and intervened. The confrontation escalated. Nevil and Zevi issued formal challenges to Tyron and Rax. Rianne then challenged Ashan in return."
Maren sighed.
"So it's a matter of pride, and a girl."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"What's the connection between Zevi, Nevil, and Ashan?"
"Nevil and Ashan were raised in the same orphanage. They appear to be close friends. Zevi is currently in the same team assignment as Ashan, which likely formed their bond."
Maren nodded slowly.
"So they're not random hotheads. They're a unit."
She turned back to the arena floor.
"Your prediction?"
"For the first duel, Tyron statistically holds the advantage. He is likely to win. The other two matches are difficult to predict."
Maren smiled faintly.
"That uncertainty makes it worthwhile."
…
Outside the arena gates, the air was thick with anticipation. Students crowded around in groups, whispering and speculating.
Elara stood near the entrance with her friends, her fingers tightly clasped together. Her eyes constantly scanned the path leading to the arena.
"Don't worry," one girl reassured her gently. "They'll come."
"Yes," another added. "They wouldn't miss this."
Elara shook her head, her voice barely steady.
"You don't understand… Tyron isn't someone who fights cleanly. I'm scared of what he might do to Nevil. This… this is my fault."
Before her friends could respond, a ripple passed through the crowd.
"They're here!"
Nevil, Zevi, Ashan, and Narasha pushed through the sea of students with calm, unhurried strides. They didn't look like men walking into dangerous duels. If anything, they looked composed, almost relaxed.
Elara's breath caught the moment she saw Nevil.
'He's calm…'
Something about him felt different. Sharper. More grounded.
"ELARA!" Nevil called, spotting her immediately.
She ran to him without hesitation, wrapping her arms tightly around him.
"Please… be careful," she whispered, her voice trembling against his chest.
Nevil hugged her back firmly.
"It'll be fine," he said quietly. "I'm going to win."
Her lips quivered.
"If something happens to you… I'll never forgive myself."
Before doubt could take over, she leaned in and kissed him; brief, soft, filled with fear and trust.
Nevil froze for half a second before gently holding her hands.
"I'll come back," he promised. "And I'll make sure Tyron never causes you trouble again."
Behind them, Zevi let out an exaggerated whistle.
"Well damn! The pre-fight blessing. Nevil, you have zero excuses now. You better win."
Ashan smirked and nudged Narasha lightly.
"So… what about me? Shouldn't I receive moral support too? A small good-luck kiss perhaps?"
Narasha stared at him without emotion.
"No."
Ashan leaned closer.
"No as in 'not now'… or.."
"No as in no."
Ashan dramatically placed a hand over his heart.
"You wound me."
Narasha turned away coolly.
"You're walking into a guaranteed win."
Before he could respond, a slow, deliberate clap echoed from behind them.
Tyron, Rax, and Rianne approached with smug expressions, their followers trailing like shadows hungry for conflict.
Tyron leaned forward slightly.
"Well, well… isn't this touching? A farewell before the funeral?"
Nevil's jaw tightened, but Zevi stepped forward first, smiling brightly.
"Tyron! Perfect timing. I was just complimenting Nevil on the punching bag he's about to demolish. Honestly, your face was designed for impact."
Tyron's smirk twitched.
"You.."
Rax scoffed.
"Big words, Starwell. Let's see if you're still smiling after I.."
Ashan raised a hand calmly.
"Before you threaten anyone, Rax, fix your posture. Your shoulders are giving away your anger."
Rax blinked.
"What?"
"And your breathing is uneven," Ashan continued mildly. "By the way, how's your left hand? The bones I cracked healed properly, I hope."
A ripple of laughter spread through the nearby students.
Rax's eyes burned with fury.
Rianne glared.
"You think this is amusing? You'll regret mocking us."
Ashan gave her an almost apologetic look.
"I already regret talking to you. But don't worry. We'll settle it properly inside."
Her face flushed red with frustration.
Tyron snapped, desperate to reclaim dominance.
"Laugh while you can. Once we're in that arena.."
"Tyron," Zevi interrupted, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "You might want to check your face. I think there's still curry on the side from last time."
Tyron instinctively wiped his cheek, triggering open laughter from surrounding students.
Ashan added calmly, "It's difficult to fight with food and humiliation clinging to you."
Tyron exploded.
"Enough! I'll settle this in the arena!"
Rax grabbed his shoulder sharply.
"We're leaving."
The trio stormed off, their entourage scrambling after them.
Ashan exhaled lightly.
"What a charming group."
Zevi cracked his knuckles.
"I'm looking forward to this."
Nevil turned back to Elara, squeezing her hands one last time.
"Trust me."
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she nodded.
"I believe in you."
Narasha stepped closer to Ashan, her tone measured.
"Don't create unnecessary chaos. It could cause trouble later."
Ashan's lips curved into a subtle smile.
"Of course," he said smoothly.
But deep within, his eyes sharpened.
Today wasn't just about winning.
It was about drawing a line.