I First Duel Strikes

The announcement of the duel spread like wildfire through the freshmen dormitories, spilling over into the surrounding edifices.

Whispers turned into excited chatter as groups of students hurried to find a vantage point in the area, their curiosity sparked by the audacity of a duel just a day before the Welcome Ceremony.

"Did you hear? Aidan von Brandt and that top scorer are going at it."

"Already? This year's going to be wild!"

"Some nerve challenging a von Brandt..."

"Who's that?"

"He is of noble birth in my country."

The training ground were abuzz, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows over the terrain. Rows of practice dummies stood in orderly lines, and racks of armors gleamed in the light.

Beyond the training ground, the surrounding greenery swayed gently in the breeze, offering a deceptive calm that contrasted the growing tension.

A student pushed his way through the crowd, weaving past taller peers to get a clear view.

By the time he finally found a gap between shoulders, the duel was already over. His eyes widened as he took in the scene.

Aidan lay sprawled on the ground, his uniform disheveled, and his face pale. His chest rose and fell faintly, but his unconscious state made it clear who had lost.

Austin stood nearby, utterly composed, not a bead of sweat visible on his face. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd briefly before he turned away, indifferent to the whispers swirling around him.

"What happened?" the student asked the boy next to him, his voice a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

The boy, still staring at Austin, shook his head slowly. "It was over in a flash. Aidan didn't stand a chance."

***

Earlier That Afternoon, when Aidan declared his challenge in the dormitory, the atmosphere had shifted instantly.

"I demand a duel," Aidan declared to a nearby professor, his voice loud and cutting through the murmurs of passing students.

Every student's gaze had turned toward him, the tension is thick. There was an edge to his tone, daring anyone to misunderstand his intent.

The professor, casually taking a stroll with his hands clasped behind his back—a middle-aged man with a deep cocoa skin tone, graying hair, and a tired expression—halted and turned.

He cleared his throat, his expression slightly exasperated from the discourteousness. "Perhaps I should introduce myself first. I am Professor Charles Beaumont. It is customary to greet someone before issuing demands, is it not?"

Aidan hesitated, his jaw tightening for a second before he offered a sharp bow, his movements polished but tinged with tension. "My apologies, Professor Beaumont. Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Aidan von Brant, son of Count Alistair von Brant from the Thule Kingdom in the Western Continent."

Professor Beaumont raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ah, yes. North from here, is it not? How fascinating." His tone was cool, almost dismissive, carrying a subtle undertone that hinted at indifference to Aidan's lineage.

Aidan's eyes narrowed slightly at the professor's choice of words, his pride pricked. "Indeed, Professor. The Thule Kingdom is renowned for its—"

"—Distance," Professor Beaumont interjected smoothly, cutting off the boy's retort. He offered a polite yet firm smile, his gaze briefly sweeping the gathering crowd. "No need to elaborate. I understand 'first time' can be... overwhelming for some who travelled a long way."

Aidan's nostrils flared ever so slightly, but he forced a thin smile, his hands tightening behind his back. Before he could reply, the professor's attention shifted, his sharp eyes scanning the group until they landed on a certain student.

Beaumont gestured toward the boy. "Ah, yes. You there." His voice carried an unmistakable note of intrigue. "Step forward."

Austin, standing quietly amidst the crowd, raised his eyebrows, meeting the professor's gaze with an unreadable expression. He stepped forward at his command.

"Good day, Professor Beaumont. My name is Austin," he said, his tone polite but measured.

Professor Beaumont tilted his head slightly, studying him with a keen eye. "Ah, yes. Austin Scharf," he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I assure you, all of the professors are quite familiar with you and your brother's name."

He let the statement linger in the air, his pause deliberate, as though weighing its significance.

"A duel? Before your official first day?" he asked Austin, his tone exhausted as though this was the last thing he needed.

"I apologi..."

"A duel is within the rules, is it not?" Aidan intruded, his smirk practically daring the professor to refuse. "As a von Brandt, I insist that the academy uphold its traditions."

The professor sighed. Foreign titles held no authority within the academy. As an institution established as an independent and neutral territory, it stripped away the influence of lineage, power, or wealth.

Personal biases couldn't override them, and while other professors might've been swayed by the grandeur of a name, especially for those of the same motherland, this professor wasn't. Still, the rules were clear. He wanted to put an end to this nonsense but knew he had to comply.

The rules of the academy allowed for impromptu duels, provided a professor was present to oversee them. Normally, such challenges weren't issued until after students had settled into their routines—especially after the 'Staff Succession Ceremony,' where students resonated with their staffs to amplify their arts. It was a ritual that gave them time to gauge each other's strengths and weaknesses.

A duel before that day? It was unheard of.

With a wave of his hand, he gestured toward the training grounds. "Very well. But let this be quick."

Drawing an ever-growing crowd of students, the group moved to the location. By the time they reached the training grounds, the space was packed with onlookers, their expressions a mix of curiosity, excitement, and skepticism.

Austin stood at the center, his hands casually resting at his sides. His calm demeanor was a stark contrast to Aidan's fiery arrogance. The latter stood with his hand in a readying position, his self-assured grin daring anyone to doubt him.

"Ready to see your legacy crumble, Saintling?" Aidan taunted, raising his voice so the crowd could hear. The insult hung in the air, drawing murmurs from the crowd. Aidan's jab was calculated—an attempt to undermine Austin's composure.

Austin responded without words. His movements were slow, deliberate, and utterly indifferent as he raised a hand, signaling a 'wait.' The crowd stilled, watching as he turned, walked to the edge of the grounds, and bent down to pick up something from the ground.

Aidan blinked in disbelief, then threw his head back with a laugh. The crowd followed, their laughter rippling through the air. "Is this your idea of a weapon, Saintling?" Aidan mocked, his grin widening. "What's next? A fist? You're making this far too easy."

The crowd erupted in jeers, but Austin remained unfazed. He twirled the stick lightly in his hand, testing its weight with the same composure one might show in selecting a fine blade. His silence was maddening, making Aidan's smirk falter for a fraction of a second before returning with renewed confidence.

"Let's put an end to this farce," Aidan growled, spreading his hands outward as he began to channel his mana.

Austin didn't respond to Aidan's taunts. His sharp eyes flicked toward the professor, waiting for the signal to begin.

Professor Beaumont raised his hand high, his voice calm yet authoritative. "This duel will end when one participant is incapacitated or yields. Begin!"

The crowd collectively leaned in, the anticipation in the air thick enough to taste. Aidan didn't waste a moment. With a dramatic flourish, he extended his palm, channeling raw mana directly without the aid of a staff—a feat that left many onlookers in stunned silence.

"Ignis Rex, audi meam vocem. Adversarium consume, Sphaera Ignis!"

The famous encantation reverberated through the training grounds, his mana flaring. Fire erupted at his fingertips, coalescing into a blazing orb that hovered above his hand, crackling with intensity.

A gasp rippled through the crowd. "Is he casting without a staff?" one student whispered, awe thick in their voice.

"That's impossible for most people—it requires complete control over mana flow," another murmured.

"Not for a Fire Elementalist," someone else chimed in. "They're revered as prodigies—kings among Magians. His future's limitless!"

Admiration for Aidan swelled like a tide. In contrast, Austin stood silently, gripping a simple stick he had casually picked up earlier. The jeers came quickly.

"Is he serious? A stick?!"

"What's he going to do, poke the fire away?"

"Talk about a waste of time."

Aidan's smirk widened at the mockery, his confidence swelling. With a bellow, he hurled the blazing orb straight at Austin.

"Let's see how your stick handle my heat!"

The fireball roared through the air, a swirling mass of heat and light, as students held their breath in anticipation of impact.

But Austin moved—not panicked, not rushed. A simple sidestep, elegant in its precision, brought him out of harm's way. The fireball crashed into the ground behind him, leaving a scorched crater, its embers fading into silence.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"He dodged?"

"Impossible. That spell was too fast!"

Aidan's grin faltered, the cheers in his head replaced by the sound of whispers. He snarled, raising his palm again.

"Ignis Pluviam! Ex adversario nullum exitum relinque, Pluvia Ignis!"

A barrage of smaller firebolts materialized in the air, hovering like deadly wasps. With a sharp motion, Aidan sent them flying, their paths erratic and unpredictable.

This time, Austin didn't merely dodge. He blurred into motion, his body weaving between the streaking flames with ease and mesmerizing movement of a leaf dancing in the wind.

"He's… untouchable," someone muttered.

"He's not even using mana!" another gasped.

Before Aidan could react, Austin closed the gap between them. The stick in his hand moved with uncanny precision, striking Aidan's side. The blow was light, almost dismissive, but it made the noble stumble, his expression twisting in confusion and rage.

"You dare?" Aidan growled, beginning another incantation.

Recognizing the spell, Austin's hand snapped forward, throwing the stick high into the air.

The sudden motion caught Aidan's attention, his eyes instinctively following the stick as it spun overhead.

In that brief moment, Austin struck. His fist drove into Aidan's solar plexus with pinpoint accuracy before the stick could even land on the ground.

The noble's eyes bulged in shock as the air was knocked from his lungs. His incantation sputtered and died on his lips, leaving him gasping and reeling.

Austin stepped back, his calm demeanor unshaken. He made no move to press the attack, instead waiting with an almost casual air as Aidan struggled to remain upright.

The noble's pride flared, refusing to admit defeat. With a roar, he lunged forward, his fists swinging wildly.

But Austin was a ghost, sidestepping every strike with frustrating ease. The final blow came swiftly—a precise strike to the back of Aidan's neck.

The noble crumpled to the ground in a heap, unconscious before he hit the ground.

***

Back in the present, the murmurs of the students grew louder.

"Did you see how fast he was?"

"Aidan didn't even land a single hit."

"And that's without using any Mysical Arts? Who's this guy?"

Some students were still in awe of Aidan's prowess, whispering about how rare it was to see someone wield pyro-arts without a staff. Fire Elementalists were legends in their own right, capable of reshaping kingdoms. Yet, even with such potential, Aidan had been outmatched—by someone who didn't use any Mystical Arts at all.

"I've never seen anything like it," one student said, shaking his head. "Casting without a staff is incredible, but defeating someone like that with just martial skill? That's something else entirely."

Professor Beaumont stepped forward, clearing his throat to cut through the growing chatter. "The duel is concluded. The winner is Austin Scharf."

Austin turned out, walking away with the same calm detachment he'd shown throughout the duel.