The Awakening Festival was more tradition than festivities. The academy spared no expense, transforming its central square into a huge arena. Golden and blue pennants waved in the air, magic torches lining the marble bleachers. There were hundreds of students in the stands, their cries echoing under the open sky.
To the majority, the festival was friendship, merriment, and the publishing of ranks. But this year, all talked of one thing—a duel.
Lucian Vale versus Caius Everhart.
Lucian strode down the corridor to the arena floor, black robe flowing behind him, shadows unfurling gently in his path. He ignored the thunderous roar of the spectators, his face calm, his mind sharpened to a keen edge.
On the opposite side of the arena, across the hall, Caius Everhart entered with the confidence of a man who had already been named victor. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, his exquisitely tailored dueling uniform embroidered with his house crest. His entourage followed, giving him words of encouragement he didn't need.
Caius lived for the stage, and the world was his audience today.
In the seats, Seraphine sat rigidly, her amber gaze fixed on the arena gates. Her hands were clasped so tightly in her lap that the knuckles turned white.
"Lucian… " she whispered under her breath.
Mira bent close, worry etched on her features. "You should order him not to fight. Caius is not just strong—he's merciless."
Seraphine's lips tightened into a thin line. She did. She wanted to stand up, scream, beg him not to get into that ring. But she knew Lucian. Once he decided something, nothing could sway him.
And beneath her fear bubbled something else—a quiet, immovable belief.
He'll win. Somehow, he'll win.
The announcer's voice boomed through the arena.
"Today's friendly match will pit two amazing talents against one another! On the one hand, Caius Everhart, heir to the Everhart Duchy, A-rank prodigy and wind and sword master!"
The crowd erupted into applause. Caius raised his hand lazily, basking in their appreciation.
"And on the other—Lucian Vale. E-rank… but said to have performed miracles in the dungeon exam."
The cheering of the crowd dissolved into laughter, jeers, and whispers of interest. Some students booed. Some sat forward in their seats, hungry for spectacle.
Lucian stepped into the sunlight, his face calm, undisturbed by the noise. His eyes swept the stands and lingered only a moment on Seraphine's. Her mouth opened, as though she would cry out, but she said nothing.
He turned away, back to Caius.
"Begin!"
Caius moved first.
Wind roared as his blade slashed, a crescent of air cutting across the arena floor. Dust exploded upward as the strike slammed toward Lucian.
But Lucian didn't flinch. He shifted one step to the side, letting the attack graze harmlessly past.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Caius's smirk widened. "Good. You're not completely useless."
He attacked again, his strikes exact, each blow filled with wind that destroyed the earth they stood upon. Lucian defended with simple parries, his borrowed blade clashing with Caius's, his movements spare, almost lazy.
It appeared to the audience that Lucian was barely keeping pace. It was clear to Seraphine.
"He's holding back.".
Every block, every dodge—it was too tidy, too measured. Lucian was not fighting to win. He was studying Caius, measuring him.
Caius growled, pride wounded. "Stop dodging and fight me, coward!"
Lucian's lips twisted faintly. "Why rush?"
The taunt enraged Caius. His aura flared, wind shrieking around him. He raised his sword high, mana streaming. "Then die motionless!"
He brought the sword down. A storm erupted, a maelstrom of slashing air tearing through the arena.
The spectators screamed in amazement.
When the winds dissipated, Caius stood tall, breathing deeply.
But Lucian still stood. Unmoved.
A faint ripple of shadows lingered at his feet, dispersing like tendrils of smoke. His robe was intact.
Caius's smile faltered. "What…?"
Lucian finally lifted his hand. Shadows writhed, coalescing into a whip that cracked across the ground, shattering the stone as it shot toward Caius.
Caius had barely enough time to raise his blade, the impact of the force jolting his bones.
The crowd gasped. Whispers became urgent.
"What was that?!"
"Those weren't spells!"
"It's the same power from the dungeon…"
Seraphine's heart racing, her eyes fixed on him.
Caius stumbled, fury igniting in his emerald eyes. "You dare—"
Lucian stepped forward, shadows swirling up his arm like armor. His eyes were cold, unyielding.
"This duel is done."
He vanished.
One instant, he was yards away. The next, his shadow carried him behind Caius. The whip of darkness disarmed the nobleman with a single blow. Caius's sword scraped across the arena floor.
Lucian's shadow dagger was at Caius's throat, close enough that the chill brought gooseflesh up.
The crowd was quiet.
The duel wasn't just lost. It was domination.
Caius remained immovable, his arrogance shattered, his breath coming in tattered gasps.
Lucian leaned in close, his voice quiet so that only Caius could hear. "Remember this. The next time you bare your fangs at me… I won't stop here."
The dagger dissipated into smoke. Lucian stepped back, his expression emotionless.
The announcer stammered, his voice cracking. "V–victor… Lucian Vale!"
The stands erupted—some in cheers, some in shock, some in appalled whispers.
But all eyes were on Lucian.
He had stepped into the light.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
There were people lurking in the shadows of the stands, hooded and focused. One of them leaned forward to whisper to another, his voice trembling with fear and awe.
"The Shadow Monarch… he's returned."