The nights leading up to the duel were a blur of secret movements and whispered learning. Under the cloak of darkness, Hiruko moved like a phantom through the grand Tross library, a vast and silent mausoleum of knowledge. He ignored the enormous, gilded tomes that lined the shelves, those monuments to the Tross family's magical genius. Instead, he sought out the thinner, less-read works—scrolls on arcane traps, theoretical mana manipulation, and elemental principles. These weren't for a genius; they were for a man who needed to win with his wits, not his power. He tucked three thin scrolls into a satchel, his weapons of cunning.
Every free moment of his school day became a race against time, his mind a battlefield of conflicting information. In his morning history class, while the instructor lectured on the Arcane Empire, Hiruko kept a scroll hidden beneath his desk. He devoured the cramped script, his eyes darting between the professor's droning and the intricate diagrams. But the knowledge was just that—knowledge. It remained trapped within the confines of his mind, a theory without a practical application.
At lunch, he sat with his friends, his mind still on the books. Kaelen, ever the joker, nudged him with his elbow. "You've been quiet, Lukas. Don't worry about the duel with Mina. Even a genius can't make a brick float without a little effort." The table erupted in laughter, the familiar, comforting sound a stark contrast to his own internal turmoil.
"It's not about that," Hiruko muttered, a perfect imitation of Lukas's quiet frustration. "I'm just… trying to understand the basics."
Kevin, a serious boy with glasses, leaned in. "They say it takes pure will to channel mana, Lukas. Maybe you're just trying too hard."
Hiruko simply nodded, feigning disinterest. He knew he was trying too hard, but he also knew his problem wasn't a lack of will. It was a problem of competence, of a body that refused to cooperate.
Late that night, alone in his room, he finally hit the wall. He had read everything, understood the theories, and committed the principles to memory. He sat cross-legged on the floor, took a deep breath, and tried to summon a flicker of mana into his palm. He focused for a full five minutes, sweat beading on his brow, but the result was pathetic. A tiny, almost invisible spark, a firefly's worth of power that immediately fizzled out. It was a joke. Lukas's mana reserves were immense, as Clarissa had said, but his ability to use it was nonexistent.
A sudden, sharp understanding hit him. He wasn't just incompetent; he was a black hole for magic. This wasn't a problem he could solve with a few books and a week of practice. He couldn't go from zero to a hundred in a few days. The sheer leap in ability would be a dead giveaway to Mina, and a sudden magical talent would raise alarms with his father and Tristan. He couldn't become a mage overnight.
But he didn't have to.
The duel with Mina wasn't about power; it was about landing a single hit.
Hiruko looked down at his hands, no longer seeing a vessel for magic, but a tool for a different kind of cunning. He would use his intelligence. He would use the principles of his own world's physics and strategy, combined with the magical knowledge he was now accumulating. He would create a trap. A distraction. Something that didn't rely on brute magical force, but on cleverness and misdirection. He would win this duel not as a mage, but as a man. He would beat a prodigy with nothing but his own mind. He knew this was the only way to survive, to make a name for Lukas, slowly but surely, without raising suspicion. The clock was still ticking, but now he had a plan.
The following morning, Hiruko's mind was not on his history lessons or the arcane scrolls in his satchel. It was focused on Kaelen. Of all his new friends, Kaelen was the most open, the most likely to be an unwitting test subject. A magical duel was about more than just mana; it was about focus, a mage's unwavering concentration on their spell. If Hiruko could break that focus, even for a second, he might have a chance.
The opportunity came during the midday break. The students spilled out into the small, dusty yard behind the school. Kaelen and Kevin were tossing a small leather ball, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. Hiruko walked over, his satchel slung over his shoulder, a casual air that masked his racing heart.
"What's the score?" Hiruko asked, feigning a casual tone.
Kaelen tossed the ball from hand to hand. "Kevin's winning, as usual. We're about to try a new trick. You wanna join?"
Hiruko shook his head, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips. "Maybe later. I've got my own trick." He held up a copy of a large, heavy textbook, the same one he was pretending to study. "Watch this."
He moved to the side of the yard, pretending to read. He waited until Kaelen was mid-throw, his eyes focused on Kevin. In a moment of precise timing, Hiruko dropped the heavy book, letting it fall flat on the hard-packed earth with a loud thump. The sound was sharp and sudden, a gunshot in the midday quiet.
Kaelen's concentration shattered. His head snapped toward the noise, and the ball slipped from his grasp, tumbling harmlessly to the ground. A flicker of confusion crossed his face before he looked back at Hiruko.
"Lukas? What was that for?" Kaelen asked, a laugh in his voice.
Hiruko looked down at the book on the ground, a mock-expression of surprise on his face. "Oh! Sorry, Kaelen. I got lost in my reading." He bent to pick it up, his gaze locked on Kaelen's bewildered expression. The test was a success. He had completely broken Kaelen's focus with nothing more than a simple, unexpected sound.
"Lost in your reading?" Kevin said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "The Lukas I know only gets lost on the way to class." The two boys burst into laughter, the tension of the moment dissipating as quickly as it had formed.
Hiruko joined in the laughter, a genuine warmth filling his chest. The simple joke from his friends felt more real than any of the stifling pleasantries of the Tross mansion. But his mind was already moving on. He had a weapon. His modern-world cunning and understanding of human psychology could be his most potent magic. Mina was a prodigy, but she was still a person. And people, no matter how powerful, were susceptible to distraction.
The duel was no longer a matter of magic. It was a matter of mind games. He would not beat her with a spell. He would beat her with a simple, perfectly timed trick. He just had to be sure that the trick was a good one.
The sun had barely dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and violet, when Hiruko slipped out of the mansion. He navigated the labyrinthine gardens with a new sense of purpose, a ghost in a place he was beginning to understand. He was not looking for a place to practice magic; he was looking for a place to set a trap. He found it behind a crumbling wall of the old conservatory, a forgotten training ground littered with overgrown weeds and broken paving stones. It was perfect—secluded and filled with natural obstacles.
His plan was a simple one, based on the fundamental laws of his own world, a kind of knowledge that seemed more potent than any spell. He would not rely on mana, but on misdirection and physics. He began by gathering a small pile of loose stones and pebbles, placing them strategically behind a thick, thorny bush. Then, he found a long, thin, and brittle vine, carefully laying it across the path at ankle height. The vine was old and dried out, designed not to hold its tension, but to snap with a slight touch.
The trap was an oldie but a goodie: a tripwire.
This was the core of his plan, but only half of it. The real secret was the psychological component. He knew that the duel with a mage, especially one with Mina's powers, would be an exercise in focus. Her mind would be entirely on him, on his movements, on his aura. He would use that against her.
Hiruko looked at the tripwire and the small pile of stones, a quiet satisfaction settling in his heart. The trap was not meant to harm her. It was too flimsy for that. The tripwire would break, and the stones would scatter with a clatter. It would be a simple, physical distraction.
His internal monologue was a whirlwind of calculations. She's a prodigy, so she'll likely use a wide-area spell to flush me out or a direct, powerful attack. She won't expect a physical trap. The sound, the motion—even if it's not a direct hit, it will force her to divert her focus for a fraction of a second. That's all I need.
Hiruko stood back, admiring his work. The trap was simple, almost foolish, but that was its beauty. It was the kind of clumsy, desperate move that the real Lukas Tross would make. He would trip and cause a commotion. Mina would react with a magical counter, but it would be a reaction to an external threat, not to him. In that brief moment of distraction, he would have his opening. The Tross family might have immense mana, but Hiruko had cunning. He had the wisdom of another world, and he would use it to his advantage. He had a specific plan ready for that brief window of opportunity, a secret maneuver that was far more than just a diversion—it was his true trump card.