Chapter 22
[Embercrown 30th (8/27), Year 1356 of the Arcane Calendar]
| 8:45 PM |
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[Celestara, dueling grounds]
Huff… huff…
One knee pressed to the ground, I used my wooden sword to prop up my worn-out body.
The world was a blur of sound, but all I could really hear was my own ragged breathing and the pounding of my heart, blood hammering through my veins.
My head felt hazy. Even glancing up at the lights overhead was a struggle. Heat burned my cheeks, my entire body slick with sweat, droplets pattering onto the floor beneath me.
Sniff…
That smell?
My pupils widened. Every hair on my body stiffened at once as I realized what was happening.
Oh god. I'm actually about to alt+f4.
I forced my face up, and there he was—Lotar. Calm. Chanting. Sparks flared and faded around him like fireflies as he prepared his spell.
Cracka!
Our eyes met. I threw out a speed boost, being instantaneous, the spell lasted long enough to dodge as a bolt of lightning scorched past where I'd been half a second earlier.
Lotar didn't stop—already preparing the next strike.
"That's it," I snapped, voice raw. "I'm done with you. Lotar, you pig—I'm going to roast you."
The insult hit. For a second, he faltered, lips stumbling before he regained rhythm and pressed on with his chant.
My voice flowed in Lumic, weaving the characters of water and fire.
A thick fog began to coil across the arena floor.
-"A Fog? I can't see what's happening."
-"Is he trying to hide?"
Lotar's voice boomed, sharp and self-righteous, "Pathetic! You call yourself a duelist? Hiding like a coward? Where is your pride?"
"Pointless! Wasting your veyl on a coward's trick?"
I let my voice float out from the haze, light and amused.
"Pride? Oh no, I left that at home. But your volume? That's impressive. Another shout like that and I'll have to say rip to my ears."
The silence cracked. A few snickers, then full laughter rippled through the stands.
-"Hahaa! The Varae boy's a great comedian!" someone barked, and the laughter spread, rising like a wave until it filled the grounds.
Lotar's jaw tightened. His rhythm stuttered.
And I smiled, peering at Lotar's blurred outline through the fog.
My legs trembled, but I forced them steady.
Just a little longer.
Speed boost flared under me, launching me upward through the haze.
"Hey, Lotar! Up here!" My voice echoed from above—three, maybe four meters off the ground.
His head snapped up. Sparks leapt across his arms, angry and uncontrolled. He poured veyl into the chant, far more than before, enough to light the entire arena.
Then came the strike.
A jagged bolt tore into the fog—except instead of spearing toward me, it split. The mist ionized instantly, droplets turning into a web of charged plasma. The bolt branched wildly, electricity forking out in every direction like a caged thunderstorm, its energy bleeding into the fog instead of me.
If he'd stayed calm, he would've thought twice. But no—he dumped everything into raw power, and the fog became his own worst enemy.
From above, it was almost beautiful: a storm trapped inside a cloud, crackling and tearing itself apart.
By the time gravity reclaimed me, the fight was already mine.
A continuous cold wind chant was using up most of the remaining veyl I had left, making sure I'd land safely and cool down the fog below me so it condensed into water and didn't electrocute me.
The fog scattered as I dropped.
The arcs fizzled out harmlessly in the clear space, leaving me untouched as the sole of my right shoe greeted the solid ground.
I supported my wooden sword over my left shoulder, a smirk curling my lips.
"Thanks for the lightshow, Lotar. But next time… maybe don't shock yourself in the excitement," I commented as I looked at the man lying on the ground.
His clothes were burnt, his great sword lying beside him reduced to an unusable state, being charred, and traces of ember from being struck by the lightning could be seen.
I smirked, catching my breath.
Maybe I overdid it a little. Still, I didn't break any rules—just tier-2 spells or lower. Nothing fancy.
Lotar wasn't moving, though. Which, honestly, made sense. For me, the fog was harmless now—mist clinging to the air. Without his lightning feeding it, the droplets weren't ionized anymore.
I can walk through it without a problem.
But for him? Those one-to-three seconds of wild, unpredictable strikes must've shaken him. His own storm. His own mistake.
The arena had gone quiet, then erupted—not with cheers, but with laughter.
A hundred voices crashing over Lotar like waves, mocking the "mighty senior" who electrocuted his own fog.
Lotar's fingers dug into the dirt.
He tried to rise—but the weight of their laughter pinned him harder than my blade ever could. For someone who worshipped hierarchy, losing the crowd was worse than losing the duel. It was losing everything.
"Match!" the instructor bellowed, his voice cutting through the noise.
The stands erupted. Cheers crashed like thunder, rattling the stone pillars. The air itself seemed charged, thick with the sharp tang of sweat, ozone, and triumph.
I turned, wooden sword resting lazily on my shoulder, and made for the exit.
A shadowed tunnel yawned ahead, carved into the dueling grounds. My boots against the stone floor and surroundings as I stepped inside, leaving the roars behind.
Huff… huff…
My breathing came fast, ragged—like a starved hound chasing its last scrap. I tugged open my collar, desperate for air, sweat steaming off me as if my body was on fire.
Every step through the tunnel was a battle. My muscles screamed, my skin burned, but none of it weighed me down. Pain and pleasure tangled until I couldn't tell which was which. My legs trembled, not just from exhaustion, but from the twisted rush sparking in my veins.
Dammit… I'm actually enjoying this? What the hell's wrong with me?
The stone walls wavered at the edges of my vision, shadows bending like they wanted to swallow me whole.
I pressed a hand against the wall, forcing myself forward. One foot. Then the next.
By the time I stumbled into the waiting room, I was half-laughing, half-gasping—barely holding onto consciousness, but grinning like a lunatic who'd found something he shouldn't.
A certified masochist. Great. Just what Kyzen needed on his resume.
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Liam and the others found me slumped against the base of a bench, head tilted to the side like I'd dozed off. Their footsteps slowed, eyes flicking over me, and I caught the concern in their faces.
"You should get checked by the academy nurse," Liam said, voice firmer than the others.
I let out a slow breath, a half-smile tugging at my lips. "Yeah… you're right. Was planning to drag myself there anyway."
I rubbed at my temples, a smirk breaking through.
"Let's not make this a daily routine for me, at least."
The adrenaline was already draining from me like water through a cracked bucket, leaving my legs shaky and my arm throbbing under the scorched fabric of my sleeve.
Liam's grin vanished the moment he caught my wince. His crimson eyes narrowed. "Oi, you're not about to pass out on us, are you?" He hooked my good arm before I could answer.
Victor was already on the other side, his usual dry wit replaced with a grim frown. "Come on. Infirmary. That arm's fried."
Reis and Dain fell in step, voices low and steady, their presence boxing me in as the dispersing crowd gave way.
The short walk to the infirmary felt longer than the duel. Students moved aside, their whispers buzzing like flies—half awe, half doubt, all feeding the rumor mill.
From the corner, I caught Selene's smile—thin, glacial, sharp enough to cut. I snapped my gaze forward, refusing to give her the satisfaction.
The infirmary hit me with a wave of cool, sterile air. The place smelled of antiseptic herbs and something faintly metallic, like the echo of a spell gone wrong.
I sank onto a cot, the thin mattress creaking under my weight, while Nurse Mina swept over with a tray of supplies.
She froze mid-step, blinking at me like I'd grown a second head. "Kyzen ?" Her voice was sharp with surprise. "You don't fight. Ever. What happened?"
Her eyes darted to Liam and the others, who stood awkwardly at my side. "What did you make him do this time?"
Liam bristled. "Oi! Don't pin this one on me. He picked the fight himself."
I snorted, wincing as she dabbed the glowing salve onto my arm.
The sting burned deep before fading to a dull throb.
"Picked? More like dragged into it. Don't blame them, Miss Mina—this mess was slightly because of me."
"Doesn't sound like you," Mina muttered, pulling the bandage snug.
She gave Liam and Victor pointed looks. "You two are usually the ones bleeding all over my cots. He's the sensible one."
Liam's ears twitched in irritation. "Sensible? Him? Please. Ask the crowd who started roasting the senior mid-duel."
Mina's gaze snapped back to me, one brow arched. "Really?"
I smirked against the sting of the salve. "Guess Liam's rubbing off on me."
Victor, Reis, and Dain all nodded in unison, much to my dismay.
"What? I'm a great influence. If it's because of me, it's good, isn't it? He won," Liam shot back, his smirk sharp, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern.
Silence followed, heavy as a storm cloud. Victor's jaw tightened. Dain's brow furrowed. Even Liam's confidence faltered for a moment. Messing with seniors was a dangerous game. Garrick might've seemed like a big deal in the heat of the moment, but in Celestria's grand hierarchy, he was just a mid-tier bully. There were far worse players out there—ones who didn't need brute force to crush you.
Cutting the tension, Reis spoke first.
"I did feel you've changed," he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Like… what happened over break? You seem different somehow."
"You seem happier, livelier," Dain added, his voice carrying mixed emotions—relief, but also something fragile, almost sad.
Victor crossed his arms. "Definitely. You're more open now. Not hiding behind that usual wall."
"Really?" Liam tilted his head, ears flicking. "I don't see much of a difference."
I almost laughed. Wow. Out of all of them, I expected Liam to be the most confused. Guess he really is hopeless at reading people.
Mina sighed, rolling her eyes heavenward as she tied the last knot in the bandage. "Great. Just what I needed. Now, even you are going to be showing up here bruised and half-conscious. Wonderful."
They shuffled out a few minutes later—Mina had made it clear the infirmary wasn't meant to be our new hangout—promising to meet me after dinner.
"We won't take too long," Reis called over his shoulder, his tone teasing but edged.
Liam lingered a moment longer, his red eyes searching mine. He said nothing, but the silence said enough before he finally turned and followed the others.
The door clicked shut, leaving me with Nurse Mina and the faint hum of enchanted lanterns overhead.
I shifted on the cot, wincing as the salve's numbing effect spread deeper, making my arm feel heavy and detached, like it belonged to someone else.
At some point, I must've dozed off—maybe thirty minutes—before Cornelius's voice rattled me awake, telling me to ask something.
You can't even let me sleep, can you?
Shaking off the drowsiness, I pushed the thought aside and asked what he wanted me to learn.
"Nurse, can I ask you something?" My voice came out softer than usual, edged with a curiosity I couldn't quite shake.
Mina looked up from her tray of glowing vials and herbs, her name tag catching the lantern light. Her dark hair was tied in a neat bun, her eyes sharp yet steady—professional, but not cold.
"What is it? Still hurting? I expected you to be out cold," she said, her tone warm but cautious, like someone used to students lying through gritted teeth.
"No, it's…" I scratched the back of my neck with my good hand. "It's a weird question."
That earned a raised brow. She set aside a vial of shimmering blue liquid—probably some nasty-tasting tonic.
"Well, go on."
I hesitated a beat before blurting it out. "How much do you actually know about the human body?"
That stopped her. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a small, curious smile.
"Quite a lot actually. Healing magic isn't just about waving your hands and muttering chants. It means studying anatomy down to the tiniest details—bones, nerves, the way blood moves, even how Veyl flows through the body's pathways."
Her gaze flicked back to me, eyes narrowing just a little. "Why the sudden interest? Don't tell me you're planning to trade your sword in for a healer's kit."
I shook my head quickly, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "Not a chance. I don't have the patience to poke around people's guts for a living."
Mina chuckled softly, though her eyes stayed sharp. "Then what's with the sudden interest? Students usually ask me for sleeping tonics or excuses to get out of training, not anatomy lessons."
I hesitated, glancing at the bandage wrapping my arm. The throbbing beneath it felt distant now, dulled into something almost pleasant.
"I was just… wondering. How much punishment can a body really take before it gives out? Not from one wound, but… over time. Burn after burn, fight after fight. Where's the breaking point?"
Her expression shifted—still calm, but the humor slipped away.
She sat back a little, folding her arms.
"That depends. Physically? Everyone's limits are different. Some bodies endure more than they should; some collapse too soon. But the mind…" She tapped her temple lightly.
"The mind usually quits long before the body does."
I leaned back against the cot, staring at the lantern-lit ceiling. Her words echoed louder than I expected, stirring something I didn't want to admit.
Kyzen's trait might actually be useful—as long as I regulate it. As long as I don't let the rush cloud my judgment or blind me to the damage underneath the pleasure.
Mina plucked a vial from her tray, the liquid inside an untrustworthy green. "Drink this. It'll ease the fatigue and speed up healing."
I eyed it like poison. "Liam drinks this, doesn't he?"
She nodded. I could already picture his face—the one that screamed disgusting.
"Man, I really don't want to." Still, I took it, uncorked it, and tipped it back.
The taste hit like rotten grass soaked in vinegar. My face twisted through every possible expression—grimace, twitch, gag.
"Ugh—gods—that's pretty bad!" I shoved the vial back at her. "You're sure this isn't poison?"
Mina's lips curved in the faintest smirk. "Poison and medicine are only a few ingredients apart. You'll live."
"Yeah… barely. I can tell."
"Thanks for the explanation," I muttered, my words nearly drowned out by the foul aftertaste still clinging to my tongue.
Just then, the room settled into a hushed stillness. Minutes slipped by, marked only by the faint hum of the lanterns and the slow, steady beat of my pulse.
My eyelids grew heavy, the quiet almost lulling—until the silence broke.