Noir had never seen the Graveyard Arena.
Hidden beneath the Academy's lower sanctum, it was a vast coliseum shaped like a hollow ribcage—bones made of blackened stone, with glyphs etched into every wall. The air was damp and quiet, the silence not from peace but from respect.
This was where Glyph Duels were fought. Real ones. Not sparring matches.
Not illusions.
Real glyphs.
Real injuries.
Real consequences.
Professor Thale stood at the center ring, arms behind her back, her coat fluttering despite the lack of wind.
Around her, tiered balconies began to fill with other students and professors.
Tonight's match wasn't on the schedule.
It was called specifically for Noir.
Across from him stood Arkin Vael, a ranked student from Class Onyx—a brutal enforcer of elemental glyphs.
His family ran a glyph-forging syndicate, and his arrogance was legendary.
"Looks like the abyss orphan made it out of his shadow hole," Arkin sneered.
"I hope you brought more than tricks."
Noir said nothing.
His eyes flicked toward the glyph seals locking the arena.
The Book pulsed once at his side.
Glyph: "Ready."
Thale raised her hand. "Duel begins on cast."
Silence.
Then—
Arkin struck first.
Glyphs flashed in geometric bursts around his arms. The ground cracked, heat rippled. A roaring glyph burst forward—Lava Surge. It tore through the floor like a molten beast.
Noir reacted instantly.
Glyph: "Split."
His clone leapt right as the surge exploded, sending heat shockwaves through the lower chamber.
The real Noir slid left, hand low, glyphs scrawling beneath his boots.
Glyph: "Reshape."
A curved wall of onyx shadow rose to absorb the aftershock.
Arkin laughed. "Cute.
You play defense like a mouse."
He launched another set—this time a combo: Spire Bind + Flash Burn.
But Noir whispered:
Glyph: "Invert."
The shadow wall twisted inward, absorbing the elemental heat and reflecting the light in reverse—flickering a blinding flash.
Arkin stumbled.
Now Noir struck.
Glyph: "Stitch."
Black threads whipped forward, tangling Arkin's casting arm mid-glyph.
It disrupted the next surge before it could ignite.
He growled, pulling a backup glyph.
Earth Pike.
The floor erupted beneath Noir, but he leapt backward—landing on a platform of reshaped shadow.
Glyph: "Observe."
He watched Arkin's stance—tight, overcommitted.
Element-heavy casters lacked agility.
Noir didn't need to overpower him.
Just redirect him.
"Enough!" Arkin roared.
He unleashed his family glyph—a legacy brand that scorched gold through the ground.
Glyph: "Solar Maelstrom."
The arena flared.
Flames spiraled from all sides, and the crowd gasped.
Noir's eyes narrowed.
He couldn't dodge all of it—not in the air.
He dropped into his own shadow.
Glyph: "Vanish."
The flames surged over him, but Noir emerged on the other side of the ring—smoke clinging to his coat.
He looked calm.
Too calm.
Then he whispered one last glyph:
"Collapse."
From above, the lights dimmed.
The arena's shadows thickened into weight. Arkin's knees buckled as a gravitational force pulled downward—dense shadow folding the space beneath him.
The crowd screamed.
The spell broke only when Thale raised a ward glyph to disperse the field.
"Enough!" she commanded.
The match was over.
Arkin lay gasping, burned and humiliated. Noir stood untouched, the Book silent at his side.
Professor Thale didn't smile. But she nodded.
"Noir wins."