next morning began with a dull hum outside the windows. The noise was like a drumroll coming from the Academy's training arena. The students were gathering, but this time it wasn't for regular classes.
"Today is an open duel day," Laer said, glancing at Kalen. "The weak are not allowed out. Do you think you can go out?"
Kalen didn't respond. The breakfast was silent. Laer left first. Veren made a joke, but received a look from his mother and fell silent as well.
Kalen walked silently down the tower's corridor. With each step, a slight shiver under his skin. It was as if something inside was... waiting.
Reina caught up with him at the entrance to the arena. Her hair was in a high ponytail, and there were faint, barely noticeable circles under her eyes. She looked at him as if he were one of her own.
— Will you go?"
— It depends on who's going to be against you.
"Alan Crane will be there. An aristocrat. A naturalist. His magic is shards of earth fused with steel. He's dangerous. And he has a grudge against you."
"Let him wait in line," Kalen muttered. "A lot of people want to fuck me. But not everyone gets a chance."
She chuckled.
"You've changed, Lionheart. It's a shame you haven't changed for the worse."
It was hot in the arena. The magical crystals amplified the light like a spotlight. In the center was a circle with patterns to stabilize the magic. Surrounding it was a crowd of students, instructors, and a few members of the Academy Council.
When Kalen entered the arena, Alan was already standing there. He was tall and blond, with a sand-colored cloak and a gray mantle. His gauntlets were studded with runes. Show-off. But expensive.
— Opponent: Kalen Lionheart. Second rank, not classified. Magic is shadow.
— Opponent: Alan Crane. Third rank. Earth magic. Elemental enhancement.
The magister signaled.
And it began.
Alan attacked first. Thorns flew out of the ground like gunshots. Kalen dodged, sliding to the side, and a shadow emerged from his hand, as subtle as a splash of smoke. It wrapped around the upward-facing ground and crumbled into dust.
"What the—" Crane breathed. "You shouldn't be able to break structural enchantments!"
"I don't owe you anything," Kalen muttered, and a silhouette emerged from his shadow. The Ward did not fully materialize, but only a fragment of its form: a shoulder, a blade, and a gaze.
Alan recoiled, but it was too late. Kalen leaped, twisting in the air, and knocked him to the ground without touching him. Only a shadow passed through.
Alan has fallen. Not injured. Just paralyzed.
"Victory: Kalen Lionheart," the Magister said coldly.
The crowd was buzzing.
Later, in the hall of the Academy, when all was quiet, Kalen sat on a bench by the window. Reina came over and sat down beside him in silence.
— Did you know you were going to win?" — What is it? " she asked.
- no. But I knew that if I lost — I wouldn't get up.
She was looking ahead with her arms crossed.
— There's something about you that scares even me.
He chuckled.
— And you're the one who's supposed to scare."
The same night.
Kalen was awake.
He vomited into Sleep again.
Only this time it wasn't a goblin nightmare. It was a white room. Smooth walls, no doors, no windows.
A dragon was standing in front of him. Still the same. Majestic. Scales like glass, eyes like the abyss.
"You've grown stronger," he said. — But now you're on the verge of making a choice. One step and you'll be the one who gets killed. Or the one who kills everyone.
Kalen looked up.
"And what do you see me as?"
The dragon was silent. Then he passed by.
"Your tattoo is growing. My heart goes dark. My soul is cracking. But you're alive.
Too alive.
Suddenly, everything went dark. Silhouettes appeared—those he had killed in his dreams, nightmares, and trials. Their faces were broken, their bodies distorted. They whispered and pointed at him.
"The killer.
"A monster.
— You're one of us.