A few days had passed since the Velaryn twins' duel, yet the academy grounds felt heavier than ever.
It wasn't excitement anymore.
It was expectation.
Everywhere I walked, I felt it pressing down on me—like the air itself had grown denser. People didn't whisper as much now. They stared. Some with interest. Some with envy. Others with something sharper.
And then there were the looks that followed whenever she happened to be nearby.
I still didn't understand why it mattered.
I was crossing the central courtyard when the first warning hit—not sight or sound, but instinct.
Mana.
Dense. Violent. Unrestrained.
I stopped walking.
The pressure rolled over me like a physical force, pushing examinees aside as if they instinctively knew to clear the path. Conversations died mid-sentence. Even seasoned academy staff turned their heads.
A tall figure strode forward.
Brannic Holt.
Rank five.
He didn't bother hiding his presence. His mana flared openly, reinforcing his body even as he walked, every step heavy enough to leave shallow fractures in the stone.
When he stopped in front of me, the difference between us was stark.
He was built like a fortress—broad shoulders, thick arms, posture rooted in absolute confidence. His uniform bore subtle enchantments, layered and expensive. His eyes burned with something ugly.
"So," he said, voice loud and sharp, "you're the one."
I blinked. "The one…?"
That was a mistake.
His expression twisted. "Don't insult me."
Mana surged again, hot and suffocating.
"You think you're clever?" Brannic continued. "Talking to her. Standing near her. Acting like you belong."
Her?
"I honestly don't know what you're talking about," I replied.
The truth only seemed to enrage him further.
"Tch. Figures," he spat. "A commoner wouldn't even understand."
People were already forming a loose circle around us.
"I've watched you," he said. "A nobody from nowhere. A fluke that got lucky."
His voice dropped, venomous. "And now you're in my way."
A sharp chime cut through the tension.
The duel board activated.
Formal Challenge Registered
The glowing letters drew a collective gasp.
Challenger: Brannic Holt — Rank 5
Opponent: Aren Valis - Rank 15
The murmurs exploded.
"That's absurd!"
"He's trying to crush him!"
Brannic leaned close, his shadow swallowing me.
"I'm going to humiliate you," he whispered. "And when I'm done, she'll forget you ever existed."
My chest tightened—not fear, but something colder.
"…Fine," I said.
His grin was immediate.
The arena was packed.
This wasn't just a duel—it was a spectacle. Every tier was filled. Nobles leaned forward in their seats. Examinees craned their necks. Academy banners fluttered in the artificial wind created by layered enchantments.
And then I saw her.
She stood near the front, hands clasped tightly together, eyes fixed on the arena.
I didn't know why it mattered.
But it did.
High above us, four figures watched in silence.
Archmage Valerian Aetherion, unreadable.Headmistress Selene Lunaris, eyes sharp.Master Thorne Eldoria, arms crossed.Lady Roselyn of Roseveil, calm—and smiling faintly.
The barrier sealed with a low hum.
Brannic moved instantly.
Mana flooded his body, pouring into muscle and bone until his entire frame seemed denser, heavier—like gravity itself bent toward him.
Body Enhancement: Iron Frame — Spark III
The stone beneath his feet shattered as he lunged.
Too fast.
I triggered Foundational Focus Technique on instinct. The world didn't stop—but it slowed just enough for me to see.
His trajectory.The angle of his shoulder.The mana reinforcing his fist.
I dodged—barely.
His punch slammed into the ground where I'd been standing a heartbeat earlier, the impact cracking the arena floor and sending fragments flying.
I twisted mid-air, landing hard, boots skidding.
He was already there.
His knee drove upward.
I crossed my arms just in time.
Pain exploded through my forearms, rattling my bones. The force launched me backward despite the block.
Too strong.
"Is that all?" Brannic sneered.
I forced myself upright, activating Mana Sensitivity fully. His mana flow was overwhelming—dense layers reinforcing every motion. Not flashy. Just brutally efficient.
He came again.
Left hook. Right elbow. Downward smash.
Each strike came faster than the last, forcing me to retreat, dodge, redirect. My breathing grew heavier. Minor Endurance burned steadily, reinforcing my muscles, keeping my joints from failing—but I could feel the strain accumulating.
I used Wind Slash — Spark III, angled low, slicing the air beneath my feet.
The recoil blasted me backward, widening the distance.
Brannic laughed. "Running?"
He crossed the arena in two steps.
The shockwave from his movement alone knocked me off balance.
I rolled aside as his fist pulverized the stone, debris slamming into my back.
I can't match him head-on.
I knew that.
So I adapted.
I let him chase.
Every dodge, every retreat, I used Foundational Focus to refine my movements—minimizing wasted motion, predicting his next strike by reading the tension in his mana.
Still—he was relentless.
His forearm clipped my ribs.
White-hot pain exploded through my side.
I staggered.
My breath caught.
I could see it now—the difference in their states. Brannic was advancing relentlessly, his movements still powerful, still confident.
But the boy—
He was bleeding.
Not visibly, but I could tell. His posture was tighter. His dodges narrower. His breathing uneven.
Why wasn't he using more power?
Didn't he understand what this duel meant?
My fingers curled into fists.
Please, I thought, heart pounding. Don't let everyone be right.
"You're slowing," he said, satisfaction dripping from his voice.
I grit my teeth.
I'm holding back too much.
But I couldn't release yet.
Not with the academy heads watching.
Not with everybody else watching.
Another blow struck my shoulder, sending me tumbling across the stone.
Pain flared.
The crowd roared.
Brannic loomed over me.
"Get up," he said. "Or was this all you had?"
Wind stirred faintly around me.
I pushed myself to my feet, breath ragged, chest burning.
Every instinct screamed.
Enough.
I looked up—and met her eyes.
Worry.
Real worry.
Something inside me cracked.
Wind surged, sharper, denser.
Brannic frowned. "What's that?"
I straightened slowly.
"…I'm done holding back."
The wind screamed.
And for the first time—
I let myself go.