The arena hadn't exhaled since the semifinals.
Heat still clung to the stone; chants from earlier duels seemed to hang in the rafters like residue. On the instructors' tier, murmurs rippled—equal parts analysis and awe.
"Valorin nearly tore the platform in half," one evaluator said, scrolling footage frame by frame.
"And Ardyn… he threaded elements at exhaustion thresholds and still kept his form," another replied. "He shouldn't have had anything left."
Silence, then a low conclusion from an old voice:
"Finals will be decided by who can think clearly with nothing left."
Down below, the student tiers buzzed. Wagers updated themselves in floating panes; odds swung violently, then steadied on a single line of light:
Finals: Kael Ardyn vs. Ralph Lumen.
Some cheered on instinct. Others leaned forward, hungry. A few—quiet ones with pinched jaws—watched like accountants tallying debts.
Infirmary—Night
Reks was already halfway out of his bed when Kael stepped through the sliding door.
"I demand a rematch," Reks barked, yanking at a strap like it had offended his ancestors. "Right now. Right here. On this floor. I'll turn this whole ward into a ring—!"
"Sit," the healer snapped, and the strap glowed, tightening. Reks snarled, then winced as his ribs reminded him they existed.
Kael offered a nod to the healer and crossed to the far cot.
Laziel sat there, upright but small, eyes on his hands. The bandage at his flank was clean; the look in his eyes wasn't.
Kael pulled a stool close and sat, quiet settling between them like a shared blanket.
"You fought like an idiot," Kael said at last—gentle, not mocking.
Laziel huffed through his nose. "Accurate."
"You also fought through poison and nearly turned the tide twice." Kael's voice stayed even. "You read him clean. Your wind bought you time. Your lightning… not yet. But that 'not yet' is just timing."
Laziel's gaze flickered, then dropped again. "Timing doesn't win brackets."
"Maybe not," Kael said. "But it wins wars."
He stood, clasped Laziel's shoulder. "I'll take it from here. Consider it retaliation by proxy."
A breath. Then a small, crooked smile. "Thanks."
A blur of motion—Reks launched himself from his bed, IV line whipping like a streamer. "Enough sap. You—" he pointed at Kael "—smirked at me when I asked for the rematch."
Kael tilted his head. "Observation."
"You enjoyed it."
"A little."
"Good. Because next time I'm planting you in the floor."
Kael's mouth twitched. "You tried that already."
"And I almost succeeded!"
"You almost succeed at many things."
"That's growth!"
"That's failure with extra steps."
"OH YOU—"
The healer cleared her throat with the power of a thunderclap. Both boys froze.
Across the brief chaos, Laziel watched them, something loosening in his chest. I can't throw everything away because of a loss, he told himself. Not when they're still moving. Not when I can still catch up. He tightened his fingers, feeling the ache as a promise. I will catch up. Soon.
Reks flopped back, breath hitching with a laugh he tried to hide. "Fine. Heal. Win. Then I get next shot."
"File the paperwork," Kael said.
"I'll file it in your face."
"Not a form."
"Then I'll invent one."
Kael's smirk finally escaped. Reks grinned back, all teeth and spite and brotherhood.
Corridor to the Grand Tier
Instructors walked in twos toward the stage tunnel, robes whispering. Their voices stayed low, but the stones kept the echoes.
"Ardyn's ceiling?" someone asked.
"Undefined," came the answer. "But he's still thirteen. Body first. Then brilliance."
"And Lumen?"
A pause. "He's not an accident."
Another voice cut in, dry. "Tonight, we see if he's a storm… or a mirror."
No one laughed. The echo died politely.
Grounds—Student Row
Floating kiosks rang out with odds and shouts.
"Five on Ardyn by ring-out!"
"Ten on Lumen by clean strike!"
"Split pot if it goes to decision—"
"Decision? Are you new here?"
Holo-panes tallied wagers, names flickering: Ardyn. Lumen. Ardyn again. A smaller count slid under the surface—quiet money from places that didn't cheer.
Up in the stands, Reks limped to his seat like a king forced to use stairs. "MOVE," he barked at a cluster, then softened when he saw who it was. "My bad. Keep your snacks. I'm borrowing your railing."
Laziel came slower, careful with his side, settling beside him. He said nothing. He didn't need to; his eyes were lit, calm and sharp.
"Place your bet?" Reks asked.
Laziel snorted. "I already did."
Prep Room
Kael sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed. No meditation—just listening. He mapped the arena's breaths. The hum of barriers. The thrum of thousands of pulses tied together by expectation.
A knock.
He opened his eyes. "Enter."
The door slid aside, and Selene Ardyn stepped in—composed as ever, darkness of her coat trimmed with the faintest silver. She crossed to him with a grace that ignored the room's edges and knelt, bringing herself to his level without ceremony.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then her hand rose and brushed a loose strand from his brow.
"You look steady," she said.
"I am," he answered. "Mostly."
"Good." She glanced at his wrapped shoulder, then back to his face. "You've already done more than they expected."
"I didn't come here to meet expectations."
"I know." A small smile. "I came to remind you of three things."
He lifted an eyebrow.
"One: there is no audience once the opening bell rings. Just you, your breath, and the person in front of you.""Two: win clean if you can, ugly if you must.""Three: when it gets loud in your head… borrow my quiet."
For the first time today, he chuckled. "That last one's mine originally."
"I'm repossessing it with interest." She squeezed his shoulder, warm and firm. "Whatever happens, walk out on your feet."
"I plan to."
She rose, straightened him with a tug at his collar like she had when he was half this height, and headed for the door. At the threshold she paused, not looking back.
"Little brother… make it art."
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. She felt the reply in the stillness and left.
Kael stood, rolling his neck once. His hands were steady. His breath, thin and focused.
Outside, somewhere high, a pair of idiots—his idiots—were already screaming his name hoarse.
Arcanis Arena—Final Assembly
The dome blazed awake. Runes spun to life along the ring. The announcer's voice dropped into a register that made the floor vibrate.
"Arcanis Academy—by the will of the Council and the roar of the crowd—welcome to the Final Match of the Freshman Circuit!"
The stands detonated with sound.
"On the east platform—Spark-Platinum, challenger —Kael Ardyn!"
Kael stepped into the light. It washed over him, bright and hot and meaningless. He walked the line to center, each footfall exactly where he wanted it.
"And on the west—Spark-Platinum, challenger —Ralph Lumen!"
Ralph emerged from shadow, expression even, eyes unreadable. No flourish. No wave. Just a nod—first to the ring, then to Kael.
Up in the stands, Reks cupped his hands and bellowed, "Tear the SKY, KAEL!"
Laziel didn't shout. He simply leaned forward, eyes narrow, lips white, the silence louder than any cheer.
Across the dome, Selene found her seat and folded her hands, gaze soft but intent.
The barrier hummed.
The referee rune kindled.
Two boys stood on a disc of stone with the weight of a thousand futures pressing down—and neither bowed beneath it.
"Finals," the announcer intoned. "Begin on signal."
The signal rune blinked once.
Twice.
DING.