The dueling classroom buzzed with anticipation. The tiered benches were packed like the audience of a royal execution or a high-stakes magical boxing match, murmurs and whispers ricocheting off the ancient stone walls. Students jostled for better views, clutching snacks they had smuggled past the ever-watchful staff. Somewhere near the back, Julian was already attacking his hoarded treats like he was watching the latest episode of a scandalous soap opera, eyes sparkling with gleeful anticipation.
Arila stood on one side of the polished dueling platform, crunching on a lemon tart with an air of calm nonchalance that belied the fact she was moments away from an all-out magical war. Her divine white-and-gold cloak, a banner of both justice and mild chaos, fluttered slightly as she shifted her weight. Ninko perched imperiously on her shoulder, his nine silver tails draped like a judgmental shawl across her lapels, his sharp eyes locked on Clarissa with the furious intensity of someone who deeply resented having their nap interrupted.
Clarissa, meanwhile, looked like a walking tempest—her aggressive curls whipping around her face as if fueled by pure disdain, her eyes narrowed to razor-sharp points. Elegant spirals of wind and water magic circled her, rippling like a dark storm waiting to break. She struck a dramatic pose, pointing a perfectly manicured finger directly at Arila. "You," she declared with theatrical fury, "have stood in the way of destiny long enough."
Arila, unfazed, licked sugar from her thumb, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Do you write these lines ahead of time, or do they just leak out of your hair spray?"
Before Clarissa could craft another overly dramatic monologue, the heavy oak doors of the classroom suddenly slammed open. Lira burst in, clearly having sprinted the length of the campus, her skirts billowing and eyes wild with frustration. "Lady Arila! Can we please go one day without scandal?!"
Arila rolled her eyes and shrugged with mock innocence. "I am not seeking scandal," she said smoothly, "it just flirts with me like everyone else."
Lira sighed—a deep, weary sigh that spoke of too many disasters for too little pay—and gave Ninko a sympathetic pat. Then, resigning herself to the inevitable, she stepped aside as the professor's voice rang out.
"Begin."
Clarissa wasted no time. Twin ribbons of crystal-clear water sliced through the air with lethal precision while a gust of biting wind swirled toward Arila, attempting to knock her off balance. But Arila, still mid-chew, sidestepped gracefully, flicked her wrist, and summoned a blazing curtain of fire that hissed and spat, instantly evaporating the watery assault.
"Oh good," Arila said dryly. "We're doing the elemental starter pack today. Got any lightning, or is that reserved for your next tantrum?"
Julian, from his perch among the students, cackled loudly. "That's my future in-law!"
Vincent shot him a sharp glare but kept his gaze firmly on the duel. "Stop it," he muttered.
Julian elbowed Lucien, smirking. "You proposed with magic. That's practically romantic assault."
Lucien's dark eyes remained focused, unamused. "It wasn't a proposal. Yet."
"Sorry—what?" Julian choked on a candied fig, almost spitting it out. Felicia squealed so sharply that a dog outside barked in sympathy.
Clarissa, hearing the sudden noise, let her rage flare uncontrollably. This time, the magic she hurled wasn't just water or wind. A crackling vortex of shadow energy formed between her palms, swirling and pulsing ominously.
"Shadowbind Tempest!" she screamed, releasing the spell like a dark hurricane.
The room fell silent, breaths held tight. Professors jumped to their feet, ready to intervene. Darian shifted uneasily, eyes flicking between the swirling darkness and Arila. But then Arila's cloak flared brilliantly, glowing gold and white like a second sun suddenly ignited. A radiant shield blossomed around her and Ninko, who curled protectively against her neck. The shadow magic slammed into the barrier and dissolved instantly into sparkling ash.
Arila blinked, unruffled. "Well. That was dramatic."
Clarissa stumbled back, stunned by the resilience of Arila's magic.
Tilting her head, Arila narrowed her eyes. "Looks like I'm gonna fly again," she muttered under her breath.
Nothing happened. Instead, her cloak pulsed steadily with protective enchantments, standing firm like an unyielding fortress.
She met Clarissa's glare head-on. "Trying to curse your way into a guy's heart? Bold. Stupid, but bold."
Before the tension could escalate further, Professor Daelen stormed onto the platform, his robes flapping with righteous indignation.
"Dark magic in a student duel?! Absolutely not! This duel is over."
Clarissa, eyes blazing like a firestorm, shot one last venomous glare at Arila. "Lucien will be mine! You'll see! This isn't over!" Dark magic flickered like a living scarf, trailing behind her as she stormed from the room.
The sudden silence that followed was deafening. Julian exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding since the duel began. "Yep. Villainess arc fully unlocked."
Arila, brushing a few crumbs of pastry from her sleeve, smirked. "Can someone hand me another tart? I feel like I deserve compensation."
Lucien appeared beside her instantly, his expression tense and concerned. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Arila replied, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Cloak did all the work. I was just the sarcastic vessel."
Darian gave a quiet nod of approval. Vincent handed her a glass of juice, offering a rare smile. Felicia's face lit up as if they were all living inside a very romantic light novel.
Julian leaned toward Lucien conspiratorially. "So… about that proposal."
Lucien ignored the jab. Instead, he fell into step beside Arila as they left the classroom, their shoulders brushing with the subtle intimacy of two people who shared far more than just a duel.
Then their hands accidentally touched. For one perfect heartbeat, their fingers lingered. Arila nearly tripped over her own cloak in surprise, but Lucien was quick to steady her, his touch gentle and sure.
"Next time," he said quietly, eyes meeting hers with a softness that broke through his usual stoic façade, "I won't let anyone throw shadows at you."
Ninko, ever the faithful wingman, flicked his tails proudly like a furry little herald.
Arila looked away, cheeks suspiciously pink.
And for once, she didn't have a sarcastic comeback.
To be continued...