The academy courtyard buzzed louder than usual that day. Students hurried between lecture halls, arms full of books, some practicing incantations under their breath, others boasting about new techniques. Yet Arion barely noticed any of it—his eyes were fixed on Celia.
She walked with her usual steady, confident stride, heading toward a small garden tucked behind the eastern building. The place was quieter than the rest of campus, shaded by tall, dark-leaved trees swaying with the morning breeze.
Arion hesitated for a moment. Should he follow?
Memories of the previous day flashed before him—Celia standing up for him in front of the entire class, silencing that arrogant brute with nothing more than a few sharp words. The memory still warmed his chest. Smiling faintly, he decided to follow her.
When he reached the garden, he found her seated on a stone bench, hands resting on her knees, eyes lifted toward the sky. He sat down beside her, leaving a careful space between them, and spoke quietly:
"...I just wanted to thank you. Back in the hall… if you hadn't stepped in, I probably would've ended up in a fight I couldn't win."
She turned toward him slowly. Her gaze wasn't as cold as it had been before—it held a trace of curiosity.
"I didn't defend you for your sake," she said calmly. "I defended the rule. Anyone who survives the Trial of Darkness deserves respect. Even a stranger."
Arion smiled faintly.
"A stranger… maybe. But I won't stay one forever."
Silence lingered between them. Then Celia spoke again, her voice softer, almost distant.
"Strangeness isn't always about place. Sometimes it's in the blood itself… in the secret flowing inside you."
Her words carried weight, like a veil she refused to lift. Arion sensed there was more behind them, a story untold, but he didn't press. Instead, he pulled out the book he had borrowed—the one containing the technique Dance of Shadows. Opening to the first pages, he said:
"I've been trying to get this right… It's harder than it looks. Every step feels like I'm fighting myself."
Celia's eyes glanced at the strange symbols drawn on the page.
"That's a dangerous art. If your body isn't strong enough, it'll break you long before you master even the first stage."
Arion chuckled softly.
"It already did. But at least I caught a glimpse of hope."
She studied him for a moment, then looked back up at the sky. For the first time, Arion felt a thread forming between them—thin, fragile, but real. Respect, maybe… or something deeper.
But the moment shattered.
A mocking voice cut through the stillness:
"Well, well… the stray found himself a friend!"
Both Arion and Celia turned. The hulking student from yesterday stood a few steps away, that same smug grin plastered across his face. Two lackeys flanked him, snickering like jackals.
He strode closer, each step heavy enough to make the ground seem to groan beneath him.
"Not enough that you're the academy's shame," he sneered, "but now you're sitting with Celia? What a waste… A girl like you, lowering yourself to someone whose name and blood mean nothing?"
Students nearby began to gather, drawn by the scent of drama. Arion's blood boiled, but he forced himself to breathe. He remembered Falco's warning: Your anger will be your weakness. He steadied his voice.
"If you've got a problem, say it to me. Leave Celia out of it."
The brute threw his head back and laughed, loud enough to turn heads across the courtyard.
"You? You're not worth my time. But since you're dumb enough to think you belong here… maybe I should remind you of your place."
He raised his hand. A blue shimmer burst from his wrist, coalescing into the shape of a spectral beast—a wolf, half-transparent, eyes glowing, lips curled in a silent snarl. Gasps rose from the watching students. To summon a spirit this early in training was no small feat.
Celia rose to her feet, her gaze sharpening like a drawn blade.
"Manifesting your spirit in the academy grounds is a violation. You know that."
His grin widened.
"And who's going to stop me? You? Or the stray beside you?"
Arion pushed himself up, heart pounding but resolve firm. Dozens of eyes were on him—he couldn't back down, not here, not now. He stepped forward.
"If you think I don't belong here, then prove it. In front of everyone. In front of the instructor."
For the briefest moment, the brute's smile faltered. Then he burst into booming laughter.
"You said it, not me. Fine. Let's go to the grand hall. Let's see what the instructor decides."
Excitement rippled through the crowd. Students swarmed to follow, eager for spectacle. Arion's palms were damp, his pulse racing, yet inside him burned a strange fire. This wasn't just a challenge—it was a chance to claim his place.
Celia walked beside him in silence. She said nothing, but when he glanced at her, he saw something different in her eyes. Not coldness this time… perhaps worry, or maybe the spark of respect.
They entered the grand hall. At the front, the tall instructor stood, chalking glowing runes across the vast board of light. His head lifted as the noise filled the chamber, his steel-sharp eyes narrowing.
"What is this commotion?"
The brute bowed theatrically.
"Sir, the stray here has challenged me before the entire class. I ask permission for a duel—under your supervision."
Gasps and murmurs swept the room like wildfire.
The instructor paused, his gaze fixing on Arion. For a long moment, it felt as though the man's eyes pierced straight into his soul. At last, his voice rang out, low and cold:
"If this is your choice… then prepare yourselves."
In that instant, the air seemed to freeze. Arion's heart pounded like war drums, his body trembled, but in his eyes burned a single light:
This was his moment.
And the chapter ended there—at the brink of the duel.