Malenia didn't wait for the echo of Lincoln's word to fade.
Her spear-aura snapped forward…then she was gone, a streak of compressed mana tearing the air. Normal mages wouldn't have seen the movement at all. I caught it only because the pressure slammed against my senses like a thrown stone.
Instinct. Pivot.
The spear head hissed past my ribs, close enough I felt the wind of it drag my tunic.
Before I could counter, Salem rose out of her own shadow like night given bones, grabbed Malenia mid-lunge, and flung her hard.
Malenia her outline hit a far pillar with a crack that rattled dust from the ceiling.
Gasps rolled across the balcony.
"Saints alive, did anyone see her move?" one noble blurted, mana fluttering like a caged lark.
"It was just a blur to me" another scoffed. "I'm still trying to believe anyone can move that fast."
A softer voice—my mother's—cut through the din, sharp with fear: "gods preserve her, she's still my little girl. And that Salem girl… did you see how fast she moved?"
Ramon's aura pulsed beside her, solid and even. "I saw. That speed means no one's laying a finger on Annabel today. Trust her, and trust Salem."
From deeper in the crowd, Kate's bright signature quivered with delighted shock.
"That throw was was awesome," she whispered. "I blinked and missed half of it."
Alven's mana dense, amber-edged, rumbled a low reply.
"Awesome? Try nightmare fuel. Salem's scary fast."
Fay, standing just behind them, sounded half-awed, half-defeated.
"How are we even in the same class as them? I train till my bones scream and I'm still playing checkers while they're—" She gestured helplessly at the carnage below. "—playing gods."
Down on the floor, trust tasted like iron and lightning.
Salem's shadows were rising off her shoulders like disdainful wings. Malenia was already pushing to her feet, spear flaring hot again, but Salem looked ready to unmake her.
"Take Julius", Salem's thought slid into mine, silk over steel. "I'll destroy this one for daring to breathe near you."
"Don't go too far." I warned. "Or no kisses."
A pulse of smug affection answered. Then she moved, shadow and speed, nothing but promise and violence.
I turned to Julius.
His sword lowered just a fraction, respect or calculation, I couldn't tell. His mana was calm like water, no ripples. Difficult to read. Dangerous.
I spun the staff once, metal singing through the air. The vibration thrummed up my arms into my chest—anchoring me.
Above, I felt Lincoln lean forward, attention sharpening. And behind him, the kings: Hadrian, Beren, and Gimli. Their auras were statues of stone—utterly still, but heavy with expectation. Their advisors crackled like lightning behind them.
Two girls.
Two Ætherbound.
And a room full of eyes waiting to see which side would fall first.
I dropped low, weight coiled. Julius moved first, quick sidestep, sword flashing for my shoulder. I met him halfway, parried with the haft, twisted, slammed the butt for his knee. Metal rang. Sparks of mana cracked between us.
All peripheral sound faded except for Salem's distant clash and the roar of watching hearts.
Time to show them what potential really looks like.
I spun the staff again, faster now, not just to strike, but to keep Julius reading me wrong. Every movement a thread, a feint, a setup for something sharper.
From above, a rough-edged voice cut the air: "What's she doing now?" King Gimli, by the weight of his mana—rough stone and old fire.
Lincoln answered before anyone else could. Calm. Certain. "She's exploiting weaknesses. She knows Julius is stronger physically. But she's far more agile. Faster. Smarter."
"She doesn't even look like she's trying," Hadrian murmured, voice edged with something like awe.
"That's what makes her dangerous," Lincoln said. "She's not just agile. She's Annabel. Nearly every affinity under her skin. That staff is just a distraction."
A cluster of lesser nobles murmured agreement—ripples of admiration and fear.
"If she's a student, imagine the captains," one man breathed.
"I'm imagining the casualties if she ever turns enemy," his companion replied.
I surged forward.
Julius met me with steady poise, his blade parried high, then low, then sidestepped as I twisted mid-strike. The rhythm between us was clean, honed from training. And friendship. And the knowledge that we couldn't hold back, not with this many eyes.
Not when the floor above was watching in complete silence.
The kings. The nobles. My family.
My friends.
I struck again, spinning low, rising in a feint and snapping the end of the staff toward his ribs.
He caught it with a burst of pressure, raw strength and shoved back hard.
We separated, barely a breath's space between us.
Behind me, Kate's aura flared like sun-lit banners.
"C'mon, Annie, make him work for it!"
Fay's voice followed, half-pleading, half-inspired.
"Do something amazing again, I need the motivation!"
I could feel the faint curve of Julius's grin through the mana tension. Friends. But today, opponents.
Then…
A blast from the other side of the room, senses tilting sideways to Salem.
Malenia's spear came down like a comet, fire and edge and pure destructive weight.
But Salem was already gone, back into her shadow.
Then behind her.
Then above.
Her magic hit like lightning made personal—fast, cruel, efficient. A dozen flashes of pressure in the span of a second.
A row of dignitaries gasped in unison, mana flares popping like fireworks.
"Shadow-stepping?" an elderly magister stammered.
"I can't even follow the after-images," his apprentice whispered, voice thin with terror.
Malenia spun to match, wild but trained, keeping her spear up, her mana flaring with every move, but she was just in time. Almost a breath late every time. Always reacting.
From the balcony, Lincoln sighed—low and disappointed. "She's good but not ready," he said to no one in particular. "If I had Kali fight Malenia, she'd be dead in five seconds. Probably less. Luckily the Ætherbound improve fast, if she stops that stubbornnes."
Salem heard it.
So did Malenia.
So did I.
But I had my own problem to solve.
Julius faked left and caught my ankle with a flicker of flame magic, binding, hot. Tight.
I didn't flinch.
Let the weight take me.
Slipped through space like water falling through a crack, gone.
And reappeared above him.
Spun mid-air.
Kicked him in the head.
Clean connection and I shattered the bindings mid-fall with a sharp pulse of metal mana around my limbs.
Julius stumbled, caught himself, laughed. "You fight really sneaky."
I dropped low, staff in guard. "Isn't that fair?," I said. "You're stronger than me, smarter to."
I could feel his grin from ear to ear.
"Keep the compliments coming Annie."
"But me?"
A breath. A grin.
"I guess I just gotta get faster."
Metal bloomed in my hands, dozens of small blades, thin and curved like slivers of moonlight.
I shaped them with control, then snapped them through space. Direct line. Straight through the gaps in the air.
Julius's outline twitched, two hits scored, clean slices. Three more grazed past as he twisted out of the final volley's path.
The crowd above felt the moment.
Gasps. Startled mana bursts. A wave of awe that rippled like heat from a forge.
Even Lincoln straightened, aura shifting with something close to respect. "Beautiful strike," he murmured to King Hadrian. "Controlled. Calculated. That's the kind of power that doesn't waste a single spell. Even in a spar."
Hadrian didn't speak—but his mana said everything.
Approval.
Tension.
And a quiet, growing belief that maybe the Ætherbound weren't the only ones to watch.
"Look at their classmates," another noble whispered, gesturing at Kate, Fay and the others "Eyes shining like they've found their future written in blood and genius."
"You think they're on that same level?," his friend countered, voice hushed.
I twirled the staff once, then stilled.
Julius shook out his shoulders, still smiling.
Across the room, Salem's shadows deepened again, sharper now.
This spar wasn't over.
And the balcony above?
It was silent, breathless, waiting, every heart thrumming the same unspoken thought:
Julius's smile flickered. His outline shifted, shoulders drawing back, aura rippling tighter around him like a storm being reined in.
Then he spoke, tone light, but tinged with something heavier.
"Sorry, little terror," he said, softly. "If I keep holding back, I'm gonna look like a joke out here."
I laughed, low and sharp.
Weight coiling again.
"Funny," I said. "I was just thinking the same thing."
A surge of flame exploded around him, his mana aura going full blaze. It crawled up his arms, licked his boots, roared in his chest like a second heartbeat. It didn't burn me, but I felt the weight of it in my teeth.
Pressure. Fire. Purpose.
I didn't wait.
Space cracked under my feet.
Fold.
And I was gone—then elsewhere.
Again.
Then again.
The world snapped sideways every time I moved, mana shrieking in my bones with the cost. I knew I couldn't keep it up for long, but it didn't matter.
Julius couldn't track me like this.
Each fold tore me forward in quick stutters, shadows and outlines blurred around me. His flame was too slow. Every movement of his sword lagged a beat behind the real fight.
I folded close, staff raised, strike coiled.
Then snapped.
Straight for the gap in his aura.
But
He turned.
Instantly.
A blur of flame and steel. His hands found my arm mid-strike, and with brutal grace, he pivoted.
The air tilted.
My back slammed into stone hard enough to crack ribs. I felt the fracture, a sharp, hot edge blooming across my right side.
My breath caught.
Above me, the crowd roared.
"She's down!"
"Did he…did he just throw her like that?!"
"No way she's getting up after that"
My mother's voice, high and terrified.
"Alaric…she's hurt, do something, stop this!"
My father's outline tensed but stayed rooted, granite-calm.
"If we step in now, we steal her fight," he rumbled. "Trust our girl."
Ramon—the steady heartbeat at their side—didn't move. His mana remained level, controlled.
"She's not done," he said softly, conviction threading every word. "Not my sister."
And he was right.
I stood.
Slow.
Bleeding, but standing.
I'd gotten cocky. Thought Julius wouldn't be able to track be at that speed.
But I wasn't done.
Not even close.
I reached deeper.
Into the fire already coiled inside my core.
I mirrored the weave of Julius's spell, same pattern, different source, until it fit my own mana like a new blade in an old sheath.
My aura flared, heat pouring from my skin, folding with my metal and space affinities. The flames weren't quite Julius's, mine ran faster but less hot, laced with the cut of steel. I felt the burn on my lips as I exhaled, and then
Fold.
Gone.
Again.
Faster now. Less stable. My heartbeat came in fractured notes.
Julius turned left, too slow.
I came from the right.
His sword whipped up—wrong angle.
I folded low.
Then behind.
And struck.
But this time, he didn't crumple.
His body was burning with strength. Mana saturated every inch of him, bones, skin, breath. Our blows met, and the pressure wave it made snapped through the chamber.
Both our flames died at once, like two stars collapsing.
Silence.
Then…
I twisted.
My legs whipped up and around his neck.
He staggered, trying to wrench free.
Didn't matter.
I dropped backward, anchoring my weight and dragging him down with me in a tight, perfect chokehold. Just like Salem taught me.
He flailed once.
Twice.
Fell.
And I held.
His mana trembled, buckled
He didn't tap.
He passed out.
Above, the room exploded.
Kate's aura pulsed like sunrise.
"YES!" she shouted. "Oh thank the Saints.
I would never hear the end of it if he won. He'd gloat for years."
Alven's mana was pure, stunned gold.
"She choked him out. Choked out a walking inferno. What the hell is she made of?"
Fay just stood there, trembling.
"We are so, so doomed in every spar going forward…"
My mother sobbed once, pure relief.
My father exhaled like he'd been holding the breath for an entire lifetime.
Ramon's mana smiled without his mouth.
And Lincoln?
His voice came quiet, measured.
"He matched her speed. With that much body enchantment, it's a miracle he didn't tear himself apart."
"And yet," murmured King Beren, "he almost won."
"Almost," Hadrian agreed. "But not enough."
Gimli's gravelled tone followed.
"Even if that was the end, I'd say we found two generals."
But Hadrian lifted a hand.
"No," he said. "That's not the end."
And all heads turned.
To the other side of the field.
Where Malenia stood on shaking legs.
Her outline burned like a bonfire, fierce, proud, and bleeding. I felt her spear cleave the air, fire magic pulsing in waves across the floor. She was fighting back now. Not just blocking. Pressing. Trying to retake control.
But Salem?
Salem hadn't been touched.
Just a blur of shadow-points and cold precision, flickering between spaces like vengeance let loose.
Whispers filtered down from the balconies.
"She's Ætherbound?" someone scoffed. "I thought she'd actually put up a fight."
"She is strong," another voice replied, lower. "But that demon? She's not sparring. She's angry. You don't move like that unless you're carrying something personal."
They weren't wrong.
Malenia had trained strikes. Controlled bursts of fire. But she was used to fighters who stayed on the ground. Opponents with weight and balance and proper form.
Not Salem. Not someone built from silence and dirty kills.
Malenia lashed out again, her spear a blur of fire and desperation.
Salem vanished.
Then reappeared behind her, lickered to her left, then to her right.
Another cut landed. Then another.
Blood glimmered in Malenia's outline, shoulder, thigh, cheek. Each wound shallow, intentional. A lesson. Not a victory yet.
Malenia gritted down, her mana flaring uneven. She shouted something, but all I caught was the raw heat in her outline, rage, and just beneath that… fear.
Still not a single hit on Salem.
Not one.
Malenia staggered back. Her stance broke for half a second.
From above, Kate exhaled sharply. "Quillon would've done better," she muttered, unimpressed. "At least he thinks when he fights."
She turned toward Fay. "Seriously. What even is this? How much did you all train at that Academy? This is insane."
Fay didn't look away from the fight.
"Salem's been different since Annabel got taken by Lycian. Even though we got her back that day, she never forgot it." A pause. "She trains twice as much as anyone else. And fights like it's the only thing that still makes sense."
Below, Malenia burst forward again,
frustration in every movement.
Salem met her without hesitation. A flash of steel-edged shadow.
Malenia blocked just in time, but her aura wavered. Another cut traced across her ribs.
There was no rhythm anymore.
No pattern.
Just panic.
Each flicker of Salem's shadow drew a gasp from the balconies. The crowd had quieted now, held by something closer to fear than awe.
Then…
A sudden crack. Pressure snapped through the air.
Salem kicked her.
Full force. Across the face.
Malenia's outline dropped.
No mana. No motion.
Gone.
The arena was silent.
"She didn't even touch her…" someone whispered.
"Saints. Did she kill her?."
"That wasn't sparring. That was execution."
Lincoln's mana shifted cold beside the three kings.
"She's not ready," he said, quiet and sharp. "Power's there, but no instinct. No feel for combat. I might revoke her Ætherbound status."
He waited a moment. "She's not Julius. At least he clashed equally."
No reply came at first. Just the stillness of powerful auras calculating consequences.
Then Beren's voice cut through.
"I don't think anyone's going to forget this match. It was supposed to highlight the Ætherbound." He laughed. "Now here we are with these two."
Salem turned from her shadow like form.
Her outline walked toward me without urgency. No sign of effort or tension. Just calm… and something darker.
She stopped beside me.
Slid one arm around my shoulders like a shawl made of night. Warm, grounding.
Her mana grinned at me.
And waved.
Not at me, but at the balconies.
At the nobles.
Our friends.
At my mother and father. At Ramon.
Like she knew exactly what they were thinking, and didn't care.
"I didn't go overboard, right?" she murmured.
I nodded, ribs still aching from earlier. My breath tight in my chest.
"You're good." I said smiling.