The morning sunlight filtered through the floating crystal orbs of Ardentspire Academy, scattering rainbow patterns across the cobblestone courtyard. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of polished stone and enchanted flora. Today, the first-year students would face their first sparring exercises — a test of skill, control, and observation.
I arrived early, my steel-gray eyes scanning the courtyard. My longsword rested across my back, its hilt engraved with silver runes faintly shimmering with mana. Every movement I made seemed heavier under Damien's unseen gaze. He stood above on the balcony, silent, arms crossed, the shadow of the prodigy looming over me as always.
Students began arriving. Eryndor Vale, tall and composed, carried a short sword at his side, his silver eyes flicking around the training ground, calm yet calculating. Selene Brightwind skipped in next, her cheerful energy a sharp contrast to her precise, deliberate sword movements. Kael Draven lingered near the back, unsure and cautious, gripping his blade tightly.
Elara Veyne appeared quietly, almost blending into the crowd, her slender staff pulsing faintly with controlled mana. Seris Dawnveil followed, dual-wielding a dagger and a short sword, her posture perfect and confident. Each arrival painted a mental map in my mind — the personalities, the strengths, the weaknesses.
Instructor Dorne stepped forward, her presence commanding silence. "Pairs will spar. Focus on precision, control, and strategy. Each exchange will be observed. Rankings will adjust accordingly. First-years, do not underestimate anyone."
The students paired off. I faced Kael Draven. He nodded stiffly, his breathing shallow. I drew my sword and felt the familiar hum of mana along the blade.
"Begin."
Kael lunged, his short sword swinging wildly. I sidestepped smoothly, the edge of my longsword brushing his sleeve. Sparks of mana flared where our weapons nearly collided. I countered with a horizontal sweep, forcing him to pivot, nearly tripping over his own feet. Each clash of steel rang through the courtyard, arcs of mana tracing each strike like shimmering ribbons in the air.
Nearby, Eryndor and Selene clashed with elegance and precision. Eryndor's calculated sword strikes left silver trails; Selene countered with fluid motions, each swing of her blade accompanied by bursts of radiant mana that pushed him to anticipate and adjust mid-strike.
Elara's staff spun gracefully, deflecting the axe-wielding opponent's brutal swings. With a quick flick, she sent a controlled bolt of mana toward his guard, forcing him back without harm. Seris danced between her opponent's strikes, dagger and short sword moving in perfect synchronization, tapping with mana at the right moments to destabilize his stance.
Kael lunged again at me, desperation clear in his movements. I deflected, pressing a controlled push of mana along my blade, guiding him to regain balance. His eyes widened for a brief second — recognition, perhaps, that I wasn't just testing him but helping him survive the sparring.
Time passed. Each exchange refined control, reading, and anticipation. Sparks flew, swords clashed, and mana flared in arcs and bursts. Damien observed silently from above, analyzing every detail — my stance, my energy control, even the tiniest twitch of muscle. I felt the weight of his gaze and knew my every move was being measured.
Finally, Instructor Dorne signaled the end. Students stepped back, panting and flushed from exertion. The crystal board flickered, displaying updated rankings. Selene held the top spot, Eryndor just above her, Elara's calm precision pushed her high, and Kael showed improvement but remained lower. I wasn't at the top, but I was steady, learning, adapting.
As the crowd dispersed, I stayed behind, my mind restless. I wandered to the personal training grounds reserved for Class A, pulling my sword and feeling mana flow through it. Alone, I practiced strikes and footwork, adjusting angles, testing combinations I had read about in the novel. Subtle control, not raw power, became my focus.
Being Damien's shadow wasn't just observation; it was anticipation, preparation, and understanding. I needed to know him, the students, the academy, and even the tiniest details of the duels and rankings. Each sparring session, each duel, gave me insight — and advantage.
As the sun climbed higher, I paused to look over the courtyard, noticing the layout, the towers, the library, and hidden corners I might explore later. The academy was more than a school; it was a living, breathing entity, full of secrets, rivalries, and opportunities. And I had knowledge others didn't — knowledge of a story I had read and now lived.
I sheathed my sword and ran my fingers over the steel-gray blade, the hum of mana still faintly resonating. Tomorrow, I thought, I will refine what I learned today. I will grow stronger. And I will survive in the shadow of Damien Valenheart.