The arena loomed like a beast of stone — circular, tiered, and ancient. Dozens of students filled the stands, most from noble houses, draped in the colors of their bloodlines. Murmurs traveled like wind through trees when Kael entered the grounds.
He felt their eyes.
Not admiration. Not even curiosity.
Just doubt.
And worse—disdain.
Naya stood at the edge of the combat ring, her arms crossed, watching the match before his. Her robes were dusted with gold trim, but she wore no arrogance — only silent focus. Sena was beside her, still pale but on her feet.
Kael's name was announced.
A few chuckles followed. One loud voice near the top row said, "Did someone sneak in the gardener?"
More laughter.
Kael stepped forward.
His opponent was already in the ring — a broad-shouldered boy with the green crest of House Trenor, a minor noble line with a large mouth and a bigger temper. The boy spat to the side, flexed his arms, and gave Kael a grin that didn't reach his eyes.
"Try not to break too early," he said.
Kael didn't answer.
---
The duel began with a flare of silver flame.
The noble boy struck first — a burst of wind-coated fists, fast and reckless. Kael weaved through them, letting his body flow with the momentum. He didn't fight back yet.
Not because he couldn't.
But because he wanted to know how they fought.
Power wasn't just in muscle or magic — it was in patience. In timing. In reading your enemy's confidence before you shattered it.
The noble grew frustrated.
"Fight back, rat!"
Kael did — finally.
A twist. A shift in footwork. He redirected a punch, hooked the boy's arm under his own elbow, and slammed him to the ground using only the noble's strength against him.
Gasps rose from the crowd.
The noble groaned, dazed.
Kael stepped back, calm.
He didn't even need to summon magic.
---
But the true trial wasn't over.
The winner was allowed to touch the Dragon Flame, a relic sealed behind glass at the center of the arena. It was a rite — symbolic, unless the flame responded.
Few ever did.
The relic master gestured. "Place your hand on the surface. One breath. No more."
Kael stepped forward.
The flame pulsed behind the glass — golden-orange and swirling like smoke with a heartbeat. As he laid his palm to the barrier, the warmth flooded his skin.
Then… it flared.
Not outward — inward.
A sudden rush of memory. Fire. Screaming stars. A horned creature dying mid-roar. A mark seared into Kael's soul long ago — and now awakened.
The glass cracked faintly beneath his touch.
A ripple of silence washed over the arena.
The relic master stepped forward, alarmed. "Step away."
Kael obeyed.
He turned — the crowd still frozen — and met Lioren's gaze from across the arena.
The master's eyes were narrowed, calculating.
Not surprised.
But expectant.
---
Outside the ring, Naya moved to his side.
"You touched it," she said quietly.
Kael's fingers still tingled. "It touched back."
"And?"
Kael gave a small, unreadable smile.
"I think it wants something