The training rooms were tucked away in a place no sane person would ever think to look.
The lowest floor. The darkest corner. Forgotten, as if no one had stepped foot there in years.
But that was far from true. Dozens of students trained here daily.
As Vael searched, a thought struck him: the Academy hadn't been built with warriors and mages in mind. No, its bones were those of a place meant for scholars and savants. Which explained the odd, almost secretive placement of the facilities.
At last, he found them.
Arconis leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk on his face.
"So you didn't chicken out, huh?"
Vael stayed silent.
"Huh… no fun. Fine. Let's get this over with."
Arconis pushed open the door to room number two. Vael followed, and the door clicked shut behind them. A muttered word, and the lock sealed.
The "room" was no room at all.
White stretched endlessly in every direction—ground, sky, horizon. A blank void. Vael almost thought he'd stepped into heaven.
No clouds. No sun. No stars. Only white.
Then, without warning, the world shifted. The emptiness bled into color, reshaping itself into a wide outdoor battleground.
"Ahh. Much better, don't you think?" Arconis asked, a small remote in his hand.
Vael finally understood. This wasn't just a room.
It was a pocket dimension.
Well. Convenient.
It was as if he had stumbled upon a book with all the answers to his questions—he just had to learn how to read it.
Focus.
Arconis stepped back a few paces.
"You don't die for real here. Same as the exam. So don't hold back, all right?"
The two finally faced each other.
Arconis adopted a lazy stance, his scythe balanced casually over his shoulder.
Vael, silent, drew his rapier from his Pocket.
"You're strong. Stronger than me," Vael admitted. "So allow me to… even the odds."
He wasn't a fool. Arconis was already frighteningly powerful without tapping into his attribute. Add in near-instant regeneration and that Divine Relic of his, and Vael had only one option.
His fingers reached up. The eyepatch came off.
From the darkness beneath, Oculor slithered free, its shadowy body spilling onto the floor before swelling to full size. The serpent coiled at Vael's side, its single eye burning with an otherworldly glow.
Without hesitation, Vael funneled thirty percent of his mana into Oculor.
"Ohh? You guys match!" Arconis quipped, his tone mocking as his gaze flicked between Vael's scarred face and the snake's gleaming eye.
Unimpressed or not, the air around them shifted.
Oculor's scales shimmered faintly, catching the false sunlight of the conjured battleground. Its tongue darted out, tasting the distortions in space that rippled faintly around Vael.
Arconis tilted his head, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips.
The tension snapped.
He moved.
The scythe came down in a blur—not at Vael, but at Oculor.
Clang!
The serpent hardened its scales with a sliver of Vael's mana, just enough to withstand the blow. Sparks scattered, steel shrieking against enchanted hide.
Vael blinked behind Arconis in the same breath, rapier thrusting forward.
Dodged.
Reset.
Now, the smirk was gone.
Now, Arconis's eyes narrowed, his stance shifting from casual to precise.
The real fight had begun. And for the first time in a long while, Vael knew he'd have to win not with strength, but with cunning.
Because Arconis outclassed him in damn near every other category.