Luke's arrival at Crystal College had been an enigma to most. Known as the most prestigious magical academy in the land, Crystal College was a place where even the slightest misstep could result in social ruin—or worse, expulsion. The students who walked its hallowed halls were heirs to powerful legacies, prodigies whose talents had been evident from a young age, or relentless dreamers who clawed their way through years of grueling tests to earn their place. Yet, somehow, Luke bypassed all that.
Placed directly into A-Class, the elite tier of students, he had done nothing to prove himself in their eyes. He didn't boast of his skills, didn't flaunt his magic, and didn't even seem to care about being part of the most competitive group in the school. While others vied for attention and accolades, Luke seemed perfectly content to remain unnoticed.
The whispers followed him everywhere. "He's just here because Cosima's grandfather is the principal," one girl muttered during an advanced enchantments lecture. "He probably doesn't even know the basics," another added with a derisive snort. The shadow of favoritism loomed heavily over Luke, fueled by the fact that Mr. Franklin, the revered principal of Crystal College, was indeed Cosima's grandfather. But what they didn't know—what only Cosima knew—was that Luke's admission to A-Class had nothing to do with nepotism.
It had everything to do with what happened in the entrance exam for him.
When Luke arrived, Mr. Franklin heard from his granddaughter, Cosima, about what had happened in the forest. Intrigued, he decided to test the young man himself. At first, he wasn't entirely convinced of the boy's potential, but after Luke shattered the target (he was supposed to hit) and the MAGICAL BARRIER (that he wasn't supposed to break), it became clear that he possessed incredible power.
The magical barrier was designed to be unbreakable, a challenge that no student had ever overcome. Only some of the most skilled teachers at the college had cracked it. Yet, with a single strike, Luke accomplished the impossible. At that moment, Mr. Franklin realized that Luke was not just talented — he was extraordinary.
It was this encounter that led Mr. Franklin to personally place Luke in A-Class. But Luke's reluctance to reveal his abilities only deepened the mystery surrounding him, and the students' skepticism grew into outright disdain.
The announcement of the Crystal Tournament set the school ablaze with excitement. A tradition as old as the college itself, the tournament was the pinnacle of magical competition, a test of power, precision, and strategy that separated the exceptional from the merely talented. The grand prize this year was the Enchanted Sigil, an artifact of legendary status said to amplify the wielder's magical abilities tenfold.
When the participant list was revealed and Luke's name appeared, the school erupted—not in awe, but in laughter.
"Him? He's never even dueled!"
"He probably signed up as a joke," Darian, the undefeated champion of the tournament, said with a smirk. Darian, with his towering presence and easy charisma, was everything Luke wasn't. He thrived in the spotlight and relished every victory as if it were his birthright.
Luke, as always, ignored the jeers. While the other participants spent weeks preparing, perfecting their spells, and training tirelessly, Luke remained indifferent. He skipped practice sessions, didn't attend strategy meetings, and when asked about his chances, he simply shrugged. To the rest of the school, his behavior was arrogance bordering on foolishness. To Cosima, it was restraint.
The first day of the tournament arrived, and the entire school gathered in the grand arena. The air was electric with anticipation as students and teachers filled the stands, their cheers echoing against the ancient stone walls. Luke's first match drew little attention; most assumed he would be eliminated immediately. His opponent, a skilled duelist named Alaric, approached the match with a mix of confidence and disdain.
The duel began, and Alaric wasted no time, launching a series of attacks designed to overwhelm. Firestorms and ice shards tore through the air, each spell more powerful than the last. Luke didn't move. He stood motionless, his calm gaze fixed on Alaric, until the final moment. With a single, effortless gesture, he dismantled each attack, the spells unraveling into harmless sparks. Then, with an almost casual motion, he unleashed a counterspell so precise and overwhelming that it ended the match instantly.
The arena fell silent.
"That was… luck… right?" someone murmured.
As the rounds continued, Luke's dominance became impossible to ignore. Each match followed the same pattern—his opponents gave everything they had, only to be defeated in moments. Luke never showed off, never dragged out a match. He simply ended them, cleanly and decisively.
By the time the final match arrived, the laughs of disbelief had turned into murmurs of unease. Luke's opponent was Darian, the school's star and favorite to win. As Darian stepped into the arena, his usual confidence was tinged with irritation. He had watched Luke's matches closely and couldn't deny the skill on display, but he refused to believe he could lose.
"I don't know how you've made it this far," Darian said as the match began, his voice loud enough for the crowd to hear. "You must have gotten lucky in your previous matches, but luck won't save you this time. I've trained for years, perfected my craft, and I refuse to lose to someone like you— "
"Can you just begin, or are you too scared?"
Darian snarled and unleashed a barrage of attacks, each one more powerful than the last. The sheer force of his magic shook the arena, drawing gasps from the crowd. But Luke didn't even flinch. With a single gesture, he neutralized the attacks, the energy dissipating harmlessly around him. Darian's frustration grew as he wove increasingly complex sigils, his spells crackling with raw energy. Still, Luke remained unfazed.
Then Luke struck. His movements were deliberate, his spells devastating. Within moments, Darian's defenses crumbled, and a final, blindingly powerful spell left him sprawled on the ground, utterly defeated.
The arena was deathly quiet. No cheers erupted, no applause followed. The students and teachers alike sat in stunned silence, unable to process what they had just witnessed.
Luke stood motionless, his calm demeanor unchanged. He stepped forward to claim the Enchanted Sigil, the artifact glowing faintly as he picked it up. The judges exchanged uneasy glances—but none spoke. Luke stepped forward, calm as ever, and claimed the glowing Enchanted Sigil. They had no choice. The victory was his.
Outside the arena, Cosima was waiting. Her expression was a mix of amusement and pride as she leaned casually against a column. "You broke them," she said with a laugh.
Luke shrugged. "They expected too much from themselves."
She laughed again. "I don't think they'll underestimate you again."
"Good," Luke replied simply.
Though he had become the undisputed best in the school, Luke remained as he always had—quiet, composed, and uninterested in their opinions. The tournament hadn't changed him, but it had forced the entire school to see what he already knew: he wasn't just good—he was better than all of them.