The duel ended, but its repercussions remained.
As Lucian walked off the arena floor, the air was heavy around him, every step earning him hundreds of stares. Some amazed. Others terrified. Most incredulous.
He gave none of them any attention.
But he could not ignore the whispering wave that followed.
"Did you see that?!"
"He's an E-rank—there's no way!"
"That wasn't magic I knew… what was that?"
The rumors were already ablaze.
On the arena's edge, Seraphine pushed through the crowd, her amber eyes fixing on him. Her heart racing—half relief, half horror.
She grasped his sleeve before he could turn away when she finally reached him.
"Lucian."
He stopped. He slowly turned, his eyes locking onto hers. His composed face didn't change, but she detected the tempest underneath.
Her lips trembled. "That… that power. That wasn't you. Not the you I knew."
Lucian didn't answer for a moment. He might have lied, brushed it off with a smile, with the foolish mask she once knew. But the shadows still writhed faintly at his feet, and he couldn't bring himself to feign warmth.
"I'm still me," he said softly. "But I'm not the boy you knew."
Her chest tightened. Not the boy I knew… who are you now, then?
She felt she needed to demand the truth. Shake it out of him if necessary. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw something else there—pain, old and heavy, far beyond his years.
Her indignation melted into something vulnerable. Concern. Fear. A desperate need to reach him before whatever this darkness was engulfed him completely.
She released his sleeve gradually. "Then promise me… promise you won't disappear behind that power."
Lucian's jaw tightened. For a moment, the words almost fell from his lips—I promise. But he couldn't. Not when he knew what he would have to face.
Instead, he offered her the barest nod of his head. It wasn't enough, but it was the most he could do.
Seraphine's heart ached. But for now… it would have to do.
Meanwhile, Caius Everhart staggered out of the arena, his entourage grouped around him. His hand trembled as he slapped it against his aching ribs, his pride far more hurt than his body.
"That bastard…" his voice was low, venomous. "He humiliated me. In front of everybody."
"Caius, forget it—" began one of his sycophants.
Caius rounded on him, his eyes burning with emerald fire. "Forget it?! No. I'll make him pay. I'll drag him through the dirt until he begs for mercy."
But beneath the rage simmered something colder. Fear. That power Lucian wielded—unnatural, suffocating, inhuman.
It wasn't just strength. It was something else entirely.
Something that didn't belong in this world.
Above the arena, the academy's council of instructors gathered in the observation hall. The duel had been meant as a light diversion, a demonstration of student ability. What they'd just witnessed instead left them shaken to their cores.
Professor Aldren, the battle-mage with the grim face, slammed his fist on the table. "That boy—what did we just see? No E-rank possesses that sort of power."
Mistress Elara, her voice sharp with curiosity, leaned forward. "Not power. Shadows. Living shadows. I've studied countless grimoires, and I've never seen anything like it."
The Headmaster, a man draped in deep blue robes, remained silent, his sharp eyes never leaving Lucian's retreating figure. His fingers tapped against the armrest, deep in thought.
Finally, he murmured, "Summon him. Tonight."
The others exchanged uneasy glances.
"Yes, Headmaster."
Lucian returned to the dorm's alone, the hallways shrouded in the fading dusk. He closed the door behind him and exhaled, finally letting the mask fall.
The shadows in the corners of the room twisted in discomfort, shining in voices that no one else could hear.
More… feed us more…
Lucian clenched his fists. His control was slipping.
"Not now," he whispered beneath his breath. The voices spat, then fell into sulky silence.
He collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The duel had gone exactly as he'd intended: a show, but not the entire truth. Enough to warn Caius, enough to protect Seraphine, enough to remind the world he wasn't prey.
But perhaps… just perhaps… he'd revealed too much.
He was pulled from his musing by a knock at the door.
Three sharp raps.
Lucian's eyebrows narrowed.
When he opened the door, a shadowy figure stood in the hallway, hood pulled low.
They shoved a sealed envelope into his hand silently, then vanished into the night.
Lucian broke the seal. There was a single line inside, written in shaky script:
"The Monarch should not walk so boldly. Others are watching."
His blood ran cold.
So it wasn't just rumors at the academy.
The world beyond had taken notice of him.
And they were waiting.