Chapter 7: Pressure Has a Weight
Aren Valerius Arcanveil did not return to his dorm immediately after the duel.
He couldn't.
Not because of injuries—those were manageable—but because the air around him had changed.
The academy felt different now.
Eyes followed him as he walked through the stone corridors, some curious, some cautious, others sharp with poorly concealed hostility. Conversations paused mid-sentence. Whispers flared the moment his back was turned.
A draw, Aren thought calmly.
That's all it took.
He had not won.
He had not dominated.
Yet the academy had accepted a new truth.
Rank one-forty-seven had stood against rank one-twelve and walked away without losing.
For students obsessed with hierarchy, that was more unsettling than an outright victory.
Arena Observation Deck – Same Time
Kael Durnhart stood with his arms crossed, gaze fixed on the now-empty Arena Three.
His expression was unreadable.
Around him, a few high-ranking sword students spoke in hushed tones.
"That Arcanveil student… he didn't flinch even once."
"Roderic was forced into full output."
"A draw under academy rules means—"
Kael didn't need them to finish.
It means control, he thought.
Not strength.
Not speed.
Control.
Kael replayed the duel in his mind—every step, every clash.
The Arcanveil boy never overextended. Never chased advantage. Never panicked when pressed.
That was the most dangerous kind of opponent.
"He's not aiming upward recklessly," Kael murmured. "He's anchoring himself."
One of the students beside him stiffened.
"Do you think he's a threat?"
Kael's lips curved faintly.
"Not yet," he said.
"But he will be."
Back to Aren
By the time Aren reached the outer training grounds, his muscles had begun to ache in earnest.
Not exhaustion.
Accumulated strain.
Micro-tears, he assessed clinically. Acceptable.
He leaned against a stone pillar and closed his eyes, breathing slowly as mana circulated through his body.
Dual Path Sovereignty worked silently.
Where another student would have suffered mana backlash or muscular damage, Aren felt only heat—deep, controlled, refining.
This is the difference, he thought.
Not power. Efficiency.
Roderic had fought like a sword student.
Aren had fought like a survivor.
That difference mattered.
Roderic Hale – Medical Wing
Roderic sat on a stone bench, tunic loosened, healer inspecting his shoulder.
"Minor internal strain," the healer said. "You pushed too hard."
Roderic snorted quietly.
"I had to."
He stared at his hand, flexing his fingers slowly.
I couldn't overwhelm him.
That fact gnawed at him.
He had entered the duel expecting a test.
He left knowing he had been measured.
"That Arcanveil guy…" Roderic muttered. "He wasn't fighting to win."
The healer glanced up. "Then why fight at all?"
Roderic's jaw tightened.
"To see if he belonged."
He looked away.
"And he does."
Night – Aren's Dorm Room
The academy quieted after dusk, but Aren remained awake.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, sword resting across his knees, eyes half-lidded.
He replayed the duel in his mind.
Roderic's mistake wasn't aggression, Aren thought.
It was rhythm.
Sword fighters relied on momentum—pressure, pressure, pressure. Once that flow broke, they hesitated.
Aren had created that hesitation deliberately.
Not by overpowering.
But by refusing to react emotionally.
Emotion is expensive, Aren reflected.
And I can't afford waste.
The system responded to his clarity.
[World Convergence System]
Post-Engagement Analysis:
Opponent: Roderic Hale
Outcome: Draw (Advantage Neutralization)
Key Factors:
- Mana-Sword Synchronization: Superior
- Combat Tempo Control: High
- Emotional Stability: Exceptional
Risk Assessment:
- Visibility Increased
- Rival Interest Rising
Recommendation:
- Prepare for Consecutive Challenges
Aren exhaled slowly.
Of course.
One duel never stood alone.
It was an invitation.
A signal.
And signals attracted attention.
The Next Morning
It began before breakfast.
A duel request crystal pulsed faintly on Aren's desk.
Then another.
And another.
Three.
Four.
Five.
All within an hour.
Ranks varied.
Sword specialists.
Hybrid fighters.
One mage who clearly underestimated him.
Aren stared at the glowing crystals without expression.
This is how the academy tests anomalies, he realized.
Attrition.
They wouldn't send the strongest first.
They'd send many.
Drain him.
Expose him.
Break him.
Aren closed his eyes.
Then I'll adapt.
He selected one request and let the rest remain unanswered—for now.
Timing mattered.
Control mattered.
As he rose, the system manifested fully, heavy with evaluative pressure.
[World Convergence System]
Name: Aren Valerius Arcanveil
Title: Canon-Dead Extra | Duel-Verified Student
Affiliation: House Arcanveil
Path:
- Magic Cultivation
- Sword Cultivation
Realm:
- Magic: Apprentice Mage (Mid)
- Sword: Sword Trainee (Peak → Bottleneck)
Attributes:
- Strength: 16
- Speed: 15
- Stamina: 17
- Vitality: 17
- Mana: 20
- Mental Focus: 19 (+1)
Combat Stats:
- Physical Power: C+
- Mana Control: C+
- Sword Mastery: B-
- Battle Instinct: B
Skills:
- Dual Path Sovereignty (Authority · Passive)
- Mana Flow Regulation (New · Passive)
- Foundation Sword Forms (Advanced)
Plot Metrics:
- Plot Engagement: 21% (+3%)
- Rival Nodes: 5 (Active)
- Fate Attention: Noticed
Condition:
- Muscular Fatigue (Recovering)
- Mental State: Focused
System Evaluation:
- Status: Pressured
- Growth Vector: Combat Density
- Warning: Excessive Exposure Risk
Aren dismissed the panel.
"Pressure," he said quietly, gripping his sword.
Pressure forged blades.
Or shattered them.
Outside his dorm window, the academy awakened—unaware that a silent shift had begun.
An extra had survived.
Now the academy would decide whether it could tolerate his presence.
Aren stepped forward.
Let them test me, he thought calmly.
I won't break.