"Ventus: Turbulent Break!"
A direct shot.
Straight to the side of the broad noble's head, slamming with a deep thump that even I could feel in my bones.
His eyes roll... and he drops like a sack of wet laundry, collapsing onto the crystal floor wiht a heavy smack.
And for just a second. The room goes still. The slick-haired noble freezes. His mouth opens ever-so slightly, as if his brain is still trying process the impossible.
I stand over the broad one, my chest heaving, my arms shaking, as I stare at the slick-haired one. My eyes were like those of a predator finding its prey.
He looks at his fallen partner.
Then at me.
Then back to his partner.
His face twists.
Not fear.
Rage.
But under the rage, I caught it. A flicker of disbelief.
Because if the broad one goes down, then there's no one left to hide behind.
No excuse.
Just him.
And a commoner who just proved the world doesn't care about his crest.
"You… what did you do..." He whispers.
I grin, breathless, wiping the sweat off my chin. "HUFF. HUFF. HUFF. He tripped."
The slick-haired one's hands tremble. His voice comes out low and venomous.
"You're dead."
'Yeah, yeah, I know.'
Suddenly, the room feels colder, not because of magic.
But because of the slick-haired noble's expression. I could tell. For him, it became personal.
He steps forward, alone now. He doesn't even glance at the other commoner anymore, like he forgot he even existed.
He's focused entirely on me, like he wanted to erase me from the world.
His Ember-thin threads glimmer again.
"Ignis: Inferno Weave!"
He snaps them like a whip, this time, and they come in low and high, trying to catch my wrists and my ankles at once.
I slice one using Cutting Draft, but another thread snakes in immediately, trying to take only my ankles this time.
So, I slice low, cutting the thread.
He rushes through, running and using the threads from both of his hands now. The threads from his left hand attempt to capture my right arm, preventing me from casting.
I dodge, but the threads from his right hand thrash at me, catching the side of my left cheek. The pain causes me to close my eyes and stumble backwards on the floor.
My head snaps sideways towards the noble. My vision is slightly spotty.
"Oh dear," he murmurs cruelly. "It seems I cut that pretty face of yours."
My anger spikes.
'Ohhhhhhh he's so dead.'
"Oh yeah?" I spit out some blood. "Maybe don't stare at it so hard, otherwise I might start getting the wrong impression."
He snarls and lashes again.
My hands shake.
My casting feels slower.
Even my wind answers sluggishly, like it's tired too.
I'm losing.
'He's forcing me into tighter spaces, cutting off my movement, and binding my options. If he manages to restrain me fully, he'll slam me into the floor and... and then he'll walk over me like I'm nothing.'
And I could tell he needs that.
I can see. The desperate edge behind his eyes.
Because he can't go back to the Academy and admit he got beaten by a commoner. That would be worse than being eliminated.
Losing to a pre-Academy commoner? A Basin rat? That would be a stigma most nobles couldn't get rid of.
'Yeah, boo-hoo, what a shame that would be.'
I backpedal.
My mind is screaming.
"Come on, Ryn. Think! What can you do to win this? What would Kael do?" I whisper to myself.
The slick-haired noble replied, amused at my current image. "Hmm? Did you say something, commoner?"
'I've got two spells. If only I had a third. If only I knew— wait... I might not know a third spell, but maybe I don't need one. Maybe all I need is a different shape?'
'What if I did what Kael did at the prelims? Turbulent Break is a shockwave-type spell, but what if I compress it?'
'What if I pack the Aether even tighter, hold it for half a second longer, and then release it all at once?'
An explosion.
A bomb of wind. Something focused.
The noble advances again, he's smirking, because he can feel me fading, lost in my own thoughts.
"You commoners," he says softly. "Even your own thoughts are somehow so loud."
My eyes narrow. 'I need to stop him somehow, I need to make him hesitate for just a moment.'
So.
I do the dumbest and smartest thing I can think of...
I insult his looks.
Nothing hooks into a noble's ego like a fishhook more than a good insult about their appearance.
So.
I grin through the pain and say, "Your hair looks stupid."
...
He freezes for a second, as his brain short-circuits, unsure of what just happened.
"What???"
I nod, with a deadpan face. "You heard me. Your hair is stupid. The slicked-back look makes it seem like you're trying to hide the fact that there's nothing in between your ears."
'Maaan, what am I even saying right now?'
However, I could see it. His face flushed.
'Can't believe that worked. What an idiot.'
My thoughts are interrupted as he makes a sudden, but wild charge towards me, angry and careless.
He snaps both hands forward and uses what looks like a new spell, with ember-threads blooming outward, a framework of burning cords thrown like a trap.
"Ignis: Inferno Net!"
I don't dodge, because it didn't matter.
I let it come... and at the last chance I got, I pound both palms forward, compressing the wind Aether between my hands, holding it tight, forcing the pressure into a dense pocket the size of a ball, until my forearms screamed that they couldn't any longer.
Then I released it towards the noble.
"Ventus: Turbulent Explosion!"
On impact, the air fulminates, forming a blast sphere. A tight, violent explosion of pure pressure that blooms outward from my hands like a cannon fired point-blank at a ship. It tore through the Inferno Net instantly, the embers being reduced to sparks, causing the slick-haired noble to take the full hit. His body lifts 12 feet off the floor as if a horse had kicked it. He slams backwards into the wall of the maze, with a brutal crack, causing him to drop and collapse sideways.
His body twitches once.
I wait in anticipation for it to twitch again.
It doesn't.
It goes still.
And then... silence.
Real Silence.
My arms fall to my sides like they're made of lead.
My chest throbs.
My lungs burn so badly that every breath feels like inhaling needles.
I stare at the two nobles on the floor, shocked.
'I did it. I actually did it.'
A shaky laugh crawls out of me.
"Ha," I wheeze. "Holy—"
My knees buckle.
I catch myself on the obelisk tower, my palms pressed against cold crystal, my head dipping forward.
I feel sick.
I feel light.
I might pass out.
But underneath all that, there's something else too.
'I was stronger than them. I was stronger than I thought. I am stronger than before.'
And not because my blood 'allowed' it.
But because I fought.
Because I suffered.
Because I had to.
And these two? They couldn't handle even a taste of that.
'Pathetic.'
They cracked the second they realised someone without a crest could push back.
I exhale, long and shaky, trying to slow my heartbeat.
Then— a voice speaks from behind me, calm as the sunrise.
"Well, I must say—"
I whip around so fast my ribs scream.
And it's..
Marin Thornevale.
Standing a few inches away from me.
I didn't hear her enter.
I didn't hear footsteps.
I didn't hear anything.
She looks at the two unconscious nobles with mild interest, like she's judging the quality of a painting.
Then she looks at me.
And smiles. It was warm, but with a wicked little curve on the edge of her mouth.
"That was impressive," she says.
My throat tightens. "How long have you been here?"
She tilts her head. "Long enough."
'Long enough to see everything, I'm guessing.'
My face goes hot. "So you were just… watching?"
She shrugs. "I was deciding whether you needed my help or not. You didn't. Mostly."
Then she steps closer, gaze flicking over my bruised cheek, the burn marks, the torn sleeve.
"Ah. You're bleeding," she says, like it's a casual observation.
"I'm fine," I snap automatically.
She laughs softly. "Why do you boys always say that?"
She raises her hand, palm glowing with soft green-gold threads of Vita Aether.
"Vita: Aurum Sutura."
Warmth spreads across my cheek instantly, like sunlight soaked through cloth. The pain dulls. The swelling eases. My skin tightens, knitting the wound close.
I flinch purely from surprise.
"Hey—"
She leans in close enough that I can smell fresh herbs and clean rain.
Her eyes flick to my now-healed cheek like she's judging her own work of art.
"It would be a shame," she murmurs, voice low and playful, "to leave a scar on that pretty face."
I choke on air.
My brain goes blank.
My mouth opens.
No sound comes out.
Marin straightens as if nothing happened, smiling smugly.
Then she glances at the exit corridor as if remembering she has a trial to finish.
"Try your best not to die in the Academy, ok?" she says, like she's giving friendly advice to a neighbour.
And then she turns and walks away, robe swaying, and disappears through the exit like she owns the maze.
I stand there, dumbstruck, my hand hovering near my cheek.
My heart is somehow beating faster than it did during the fight.
"What…" I whisper. "What the hell just happened?"
Behind me, the commoner from the carriage moves.
And I remember he exists.
I turn and see him staring at me like I just grew wings.
His eyes are wide, face pale, voice shaking.
"You... you actually beat them," he whispers.
I exhale slowly, still trying to reboot my brain. "Yeah," I croak. "Looks that way."
He swallows, then pushes himself up a little straighter, wincing.
"I… I owe you," he says.
I snort. "Don't. Just— don't ever do that again."
"Do what?" His voice cracks.
"Trust nobles," I mutter. "It's bad for your health."
A weak laugh escapes him; it was short and bitter, turning into a cough. He presses his right hand to his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut for a second like he's trying to keep himself together.
When he opens them again, there's something steadier there. Still shaken, still bruised, but not broken in the same way.
He looks at me like he's trying to make this moment real, like if he can name it, it won't vanish from his mind.
"I haven't introduced myself, my name is Randel, " he says quietly. It's a pleasure to meet you, and thanks once again for saving me."
I nod once, slow, chest still throbbing.
"No worries, you already know my name is Ryn," I answer. "But, my full name is Ryn Falen."
Randel lets out a long, shaky breath, and some of the terror drains out of his face, replaced by exhausted relief.
The room is silent except for our breathing and the faint hum of the maze.
Two nobles lie unconscious on the floor.
My arms feel like they might detach and fall off.
My cheek is warm where Marin touched it, which is a whole separate problem I'm absolutely not thinking about right now.
I swallow hard and look toward the exit.
"Alright," I mutter.
"Let's get the hell out of here."