Word spread fast.
By lunch, half the academy knew about the shattered measurement sphere. By dinner, the story had grown—King had supposedly destroyed three spheres, caused a mana explosion, and made Professor Aldric cry.
"I only broke one sphere," King said, picking at his food. "And Professor Aldric didn't cry."
"Facts don't matter," Nero said. "Rumors are better. More entertaining."
They sat in their usual corner of the cafeteria. Other students gave them a wide berth now—the outcasts' table had become the "don't sit there unless you want trouble" table.
"This is a problem," Marcus said quietly. "People are scared of you, King. Scared people do stupid things."
"Like what?" King asked.
"Like challenge you to prove you're not as strong as rumors say," Dante said. "Or challenge you to prove they're stronger. Either way, challenges."
"Can't I just refuse?" King asked.
"No," all three of his roommates said simultaneously.
"Academy has a challenge system," Nero explained. "Any student can challenge any other student to a ranked duel. Refusing means automatic rank demotion and public shame."
"That seems excessive," King said.
"It's Avalon," Marcus said. "Everything's excessive."
---
A shadow fell across their table.
King looked up. Three students stood there—all wearing B-Rank badges, all looking hostile.
"You're King Von Deluxh?" the leader said. Tall, blonde, with the kind of face that suggested he'd never been told "no" in his life.
"Yes," King said.
"I'm Adrian Blake. B-Rank, lightning manipulation." Adrian crossed his arms. "I'm here to deliver a formal challenge on behalf of the upper-class students."
Upper-class students, King thought. So this isn't just him. It's organized.
"What kind of challenge?" Dante asked.
"Combat duel. Tomorrow at noon in the main arena. King Von Deluxh versus our representative." Adrian smiled coldly. "Unless you're too scared?"
"I'm not scared," King said. "But why do you want to fight me?"
"Because you're disrupting the natural order. F-Rank students don't catch golems. Don't defeat C-Ranks. Don't break measurement equipment." Adrian leaned forward. "So we're going to prove you're either cheating or incredibly lucky. And when we do, you'll be expelled."
"Who's your representative?" Marcus asked.
"Julian Frost. A-Rank. Ice manipulation. Unique Talent." Adrian straightened. "He's going to put you in your place."
Julian Frost, King remembered. Noble from Hatheria Skadi. Yuki's arranged marriage target. Supposed to be genuinely skilled.
"Okay," King said. "I accept."
Adrian blinked, clearly not expecting immediate agreement. "You... accept?"
"Yes. Tomorrow at noon. Main arena." King tilted his head. "Is there anything else?"
Adrian's confident expression faltered. "Just... don't run away before then."
He left with his companions, looking less triumphant than when they'd arrived.
"You just agreed to fight an A-Rank," Marcus said slowly.
"He challenged me," King said. "You said I couldn't refuse."
"I meant you'd look for a way around it!" Marcus put his head in his hands. "Julian Frost is one of the top first-years. He's been training since he could walk. His ice magic can freeze entire buildings!"
"He sounds skilled," King said. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Looking forward to—" Marcus looked at Dante and Nero for support.
"He'll be fine," Dante said calmly. "King caught a thousand-pound weight with one hand. I don't think ice is going to be a problem."
"That's not the point!" Marcus said. "This is political now. If King wins, he humiliates the upper-class students. If he loses, they'll use it as proof F-Ranks don't belong here."
"So don't lose," Nero said to King.
"I'll try not to," King replied.
---
The news traveled faster than before. By evening, the entire academy knew about the challenge. Students gathered in clusters, discussing odds and outcomes.
King walked through campus with his roommates, heading back to their dorm.
"King!"
Yuki appeared from a side path, looking annoyed. "Is it true? You accepted Julian's challenge?"
"Yes," King said.
"Why would you do that?" Yuki demanded. "Do you know who Julian is?"
"Your arranged marriage candidate," King said.
Yuki's face went red. "How do you—who told you that?!"
"I heard people talking," King said. Which was true. Students gossiped constantly, and his divine senses picked up everything within several miles even when suppressed.
"That's—" Yuki took a breath. "That's not important right now. What's important is Julian is dangerous. He doesn't fight fair. He'll use every advantage, every trick, every loophole in the rules."
"Why are you warning me?" King asked.
"Because I—" Yuki stopped. "Because you helped that girl yesterday. In the plaza. You didn't have to, but you did. So I'm returning the favor."
"Thank you," King said. "I appreciate the warning."
"You're still going to fight him anyway, aren't you?" Yuki asked.
"Yes."
She sighed. "You're either very brave or very stupid."
"Everyone keeps saying that," King said.
"Because it's true." Yuki looked at him searchingly. "Just... be careful. Julian holds grudges."
She left before King could respond.
"She likes you," Nero said.
"She was warning me about danger," King said. "That's being helpful, not liking someone."
"Can be both," Dante said. "Trust me. I know the signs."
---
They reached their dorm. Inside their room, Marcus immediately started pacing.
"We need a strategy," Marcus said. "Julian will have prepared. Studied your movements from the other fights. We need to—"
"I'll just fight normally," King said, sitting on his bed.
"Normally for you is abnormal for everyone else!" Marcus said. "That's the problem!"
"Marcus is right," Dante said. "You need to understand what you're walking into. This isn't a street duel or a training exercise. This is a public exhibition. Hundreds will watch. Maybe thousands."
"Thousands?" King repeated.
"Challenge matches are entertainment," Nero explained. "Especially ones like this. Mysterious F-Rank versus established A-Rank? People will sell tickets."
So many people watching, King thought. All of them expecting... what? Victory? Defeat? Entertainment?
"What should I do?" King asked.
His roommates looked at each other.
"Don't hold back as much as you usually do," Dante said. "Julian will come at you with everything. You need to match that intensity."
"But not too much," Marcus added quickly. "We don't want you accidentally sending him to the moon."
"The moon incident was one time," King said.
"WHAT moon incident?!" Marcus's voice cracked.
"Nothing," King said. "Forget I mentioned it."
Nero laughed. "You sent someone to the moon?"
"It was an accident."
"How do you accidentally—" Marcus stopped himself. "You know what? I don't want to know. Just... tomorrow, try to win without breaking reality."
"I'll do my best," King promised.
---
That night, King didn't try to sleep. Instead, he sat by the window, watching the academy grounds.
Students walked in groups, laughing and talking. Lights glowed in windows across campus. Somewhere, someone was practicing magic—he could see the flashes of light from a training room.
They're all working so hard, King thought. Pushing themselves to improve, to climb ranks, to prove their worth.
And tomorrow, he'd fight one of them publicly.
The door creaked. Dante stood there, also unable to sleep apparently.
"Mind if I join you?" Dante asked.
"Please do," King said.
Dante sat on the windowsill. For a while, they just watched the night together.
"I've been in fights before," Dante said eventually. "Hundreds of them. In the pits, every fight was life or death. You learned to read opponents, find weaknesses, exploit them." He looked at King. "But I can't read you."
"Is that bad?" King asked.
"It's unusual. Most fighters have tells. Habits. Patterns. You don't have any of that." Dante flexed his hands. "When we sparred, it felt like fighting air. No matter what I did, you were just... there. Unmovable."
"I'm trying to learn fighting properly," King said. "But it's hard when I don't feel threatened."
"That's because nothing threatens you," Dante said. "I've seen it now. The way you move, the way you catch attacks—you're not defending. You're just existing, and attacks fail around you."
King didn't respond. What could he say? Dante was right.
"Tomorrow," Dante continued, "Julian will try to break through that. He'll use ice that can freeze concepts, not just water. His talent lets him lower temperatures to absolute zero in localized areas. He's put people in the hospital."
"You're worried about me," King realized.
"Little bit, yeah." Dante smiled slightly. "Weird, right? Worrying about someone who lifted a thousand pounds like it was paper. But I am."
"Thank you," King said. "For worrying. That means you care."
"We're roommates. Friends, I guess." Dante stood. "That means we look out for each other. So tomorrow, when Julian comes at you with everything he has, remember—you don't have to face it alone. We'll be watching. Supporting you."
He went back to bed, leaving King at the window.
Friends, King thought. I have friends who worry about me. Who want me to succeed.
The warmth in his chest returned—that same feeling from when they'd all sat together at the tavern.
I don't want to disappoint them, King realized. I want to make them proud.
That was new. In all his existence, he'd never cared about making anyone proud. He'd been worshipped, feared, respected, hated. But pride? That required connection. Relationship.
Things he was just learning to understand.
---
Morning came with unusual energy on campus.
Students talked about nothing but the upcoming duel. Some argued about odds. Others debated whether King would survive. A few insisted the whole thing was staged.
King's roommates walked him to the arena at eleven-thirty. The building loomed ahead—circular, massive, capable of holding thousands.
And it was full.
"Holy—" Marcus stared at the crowd. "Everyone's here."
"Told you," Nero said. "Entertainment."
They entered through the competitor's entrance. A staff member directed King to a preparation room.
"You have thirty minutes," she said. "Then you'll be called to the arena floor."
King's roommates crowded into the small room with him.
"Okay," Marcus said, pulling out a piece of paper. "I wrote down everything I know about Julian's fighting style. He starts with ranged attacks to test defenses, then—"
"Marcus," King said gently. "I appreciate this. But I think I'll just respond to whatever he does."
"That's not a strategy!"
"It's my strategy," King said. "Watch. Adapt. Respond."
Dante nodded approvingly. "Reactive fighting. Risky, but it works if you're fast enough."
"He's definitely fast enough," Nero said.
A knock on the door. Instructor Gray entered.
"Competitors are called in five minutes," she said. Then, looking at King: "Are you ready?"
"I think so," King said.
"This isn't training," Gray said. "Julian will try to hurt you. Humiliate you. The crowd will demand blood—not literally, but close enough. Can you handle that?"
"I'll try," King said.
Gray studied him, then nodded. "Don't try to kill him. No matter how good it might feel."
She left.
"She's warming up to you," Nero observed. "In her own terrifying way."
Another knock. The staff member from before.
"It's time."
King stood. His roommates gathered around him.
"Good luck," Marcus said.
"Fight smart," Dante added.
"Try not to break too many things," Nero finished.
King smiled. "Thank you. For everything."
---
He walked out, following the staff member down a corridor that led to the arena floor.
The roar hit him first—thousands of voices, all talking at once. The staff member opened the final door, and King stepped into sunlight.
The arena was enormous. Circular fighting floor, surrounded by rising tiers of seats packed with students, staff, and what looked like local citizens who'd paid for entry.
Across the arena, another door opened.
Julian Frost emerged.
He was tall, with perfect features and ice-blue eyes. His blonde hair was styled immaculately. He wore expensive combat gear that probably cost more than King's entire wardrobe.
He looks confident, King thought. Like someone who's never lost.
They walked to the center of the arena. A referee stood between them—Instructor Vera.
"Competitors," Vera said loudly. "This is a ranked challenge duel. Standard rules apply. Fight until one yields, is incapacitated, or I call the match. Lethal force is forbidden. Understood?"
"Understood," Julian said, voice carrying across the arena.
"Understood," King replied.
"Then take your positions."
They backed away from each other, creating distance.
The crowd quieted, anticipation building.
Vera raised her hand.
Julian's eyes locked onto King with cold calculation.
King took a breath, centered himself.
Here we go, he thought.
"BEGIN! " Vera's hand dropped.
The arena erupted in noise as Julian moved first, ice already forming around his hands.
And King stood perfectly still, waiting to see what would happen next.