The Duel

The Orb of Evaluation dimmed, signaling the end of the rankings. Whispers filled the hall as students murmured about their results, their excitement and nerves palpable.

Then he appeared.

A tall, thin man stepped onto the stage, his ornate black robe swallowing the light around him. The hall fell silent, every eye drawn to him.

His face was sharp, almost skeletal, but it was his eyes that unsettled me pure black, like twin voids, staring into nothing and everything.

The headmaster of Astrea Academy. An Archmage whose power was infamous.

And terrifying.

A cold pit formed in my stomach. Would he notice the book?

There was no way he could sense it. A Divine artifact was beyond mortal comprehension. But the thought wouldn't leave me alone. What if he could?

Although I was sure he couldn't detect it, I couldn't shake the possibility. If he did… I clenched my fist. Even a man of his stature wouldn't hesitate to attack me for such a great treasure.

Currently I could barely use it. It was more of a risk than a treasure.

"Welcome, students." His voice was calm, smooth, but it carried a weight that pressed down on the room. Every word resonated, like a drumbeat in my chest. "You have taken the first step in your journey at Astrea Academy. Today, your strength, wit, and resolve will determine your rank."

The faint hum in the back of my mind grew stronger, soothing my frayed nerves. I knew it was the book, though I didn't have time to dwell on it.

Students around me whispered.

He raised a hand, and silence fell like a curtain.

"Your rankings will not be decided by mere words or potential." His gaze swept across the hall, lingering on a few faces including mine. The pit in my stomach deepened.

The hum in my mind grew louder, calm spreading through me like a ripple.

"You will face an opponent matched to test you. Your rank will reflect your performance. Victory is not required, but your efforts will define how you are judged."

The excitement in the hall turned electric. Some students looked thrilled; others looked terrified.

"Your matches will now be announced," he said, turning to the row of faculty holding shimmering crystals.

I Stood in line with the other students.

"Kai Night."

The proctor's voice jolted me. I stepped forward, my legs moving as if on autopilot.

She handed me a slip of paper. One name stood out. Garrick Ashforge.

I scanned the arena and spotted him immediately. Broad-shouldered, fiery red hair, flames flickering around his fists. He adjusted the gauntlets on his hands with a cocky grin.

"Fire element."

My fingers instinctively tightened around the hilt of my sword. Memories of the fire wolf surged forward the heat, the relentless attacks, the molten eyes.

Figures. My luck with fire really sucks.

Well that wasn't even technically me but why do dose it feel like it was.

Tossing aside those thoughts I stepped onto the platform. The runes beneath my feet glowed faintly, pulsing with restrained mana.

I stepped onto the platform, feeling the faint thrum of mana pulsing beneath my feet. The runes etched into the arena floor glowed faintly, a reminder that this was a space designed to contain and suppress stray magic. The crowd buzzed with anticipation.

Across from me, Garrick stood tall and confident, flames dancing around his gauntlets. He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing ominously.

"This'll be over fast," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance.

I stayed silent, gripping the hilt of my sword. My mind raced, replaying the memory of the fire wolf and the way its molten eyes had burned with malice. Garrick wasn't the wolf, but the heat radiating off him was a sharp reminder of how close I'd come to being incinerated.

Why do I keep thinking as if it was me who encountered the wolf.

Dammit I need to stop wasting time on such useless thoughts when a battle is in front of me.

"Begin!"

Garrick lunged forward the moment the word left the announcer's lips, flames roaring to life around his gauntlets. He moved fast, faster than I'd expected, his fiery fist arcing toward my chest.

I sidestepped, the heat of his attack grazing past my arm. The air rippled where his punch had passed, leaving a faint scorch mark on the platform's runes.

"You're quick," he sneered, flames flaring brighter around his fists. "But I'll burn you down sooner or later."

He came at me again, his movements wild and unrelenting. Each swing of his fists left trails of fire, cutting through the air with searing intensity. I ducked, stepped back, pivoted all my focus on evading.

The crowd buzzed with murmurs.

"Why isn't he attacking?"

"Is he just going to dodge the whole time?"

My grip on the hilt of my sword tightened, but I kept it sheathed. If I drew it now, I'd only embarrass myself. I didn't know how to fight with a sword, and this Loud Mouth would see through any clumsy attempt instantly.

The flames around him intensified as he pressed forward. His strikes weren't just fast; they were relentless. Each punch came closer than the last, the heat biting at my skin.

"You can't keep running!" Garrick roared, slamming both fists into the ground. Fire erupted outward in a wave, forcing me to leap back.

The edge of the platform loomed behind me, but I steadied myself, staying calm despite the sweat dripping down my brow.

"You're making this too easy!" he barked, his flames surging. He charged again, his fists glowing white-hot as he closed the distance.

I sidestepped once more, narrowly avoiding the blow. The crowd gasped as his fist struck the ground where I'd been standing, the impact sending a ripple of fire across the platform.

"Stand still, damn it!" Garrick shouted, his frustration boiling over.

I exhaled slowly, keeping my breathing steady. I couldn't keep dodging forever, but the longer this went on, the more reckless he became. That was my opening.

Garrick roared, his fists blazing brighter than ever. He charged, his flames spiraling around him in a furious blaze. "Let's see you dodge this!"

He swung with everything he had, a wild haymaker that ignited the air around it.

This is it.

I recalled the moment with the wolf.

I stepped to the side, the flames grazing my shoulder. Mana surged through me as I concentrated, the world around me slowing to a crawl.

The space between us folded.

One moment, Garrick's fiery fist was inches from my face. The next, I was behind him.

The crowd gasped as I reappeared in a blur, my sword drawn, the dull edge resting lightly against the back of Garrick's neck.

The scent of blood from the wolf's blood I forgot to clean only amplified the effect.

He froze, his flames sputtering out.

"I win," I said calmly, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.

The platform fell silent, the only sound the faint crackle of dying embers.

Garrick stood motionless, his shoulders tense as he processed what had just happened.

"You… you're mocking me," he muttered, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and humiliation.

I didn't respond, stepping back and lowering my sword. My legs felt like they might give out at any moment, but I forced myself to stand tall. To everyone else, it must have looked effortless.

Garrick turned to face me, his fists clenched, his flames reigniting briefly before dying out completely. His glare burned with anger, but he said nothing as he stepped off the platform.

"This isn't over," he growled under his breath, disappearing into the crowd.

I exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from my body. My hands trembled as I sheathed my sword. The strain of the Flash Step had taken its toll, but I'd managed to hide it.

The crowd buzzed with murmurs once more.

"How did he move like that?"

"Was that teleportation?"

"Space-Time is terrifying…"

I ignored them, stepping off the platform and blending into the crowd. My body ached, but relief washed over me. I'd done it. I'd won.

AAAGHHH!!

Just as I reached the edge of the arena, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the hall.

I turned sharply, my heart pounding.

A student lay sprawled on the ground, clutching the stump of his arm. Blood pooled beneath him, his severed limb lying a few feet away, the cut impossibly clean.

My stomach churned as I turned my gaze to the perpetrator.

Mortis.

He stood on the platform, calm and unmoving, his mirrored eyes reflecting the scene around him. Blood dripped from his right hand, though his sword remained sheathed at his side.

The hall fell into a stunned silence, the earlier excitement replaced by fear and confusion.

"He didn't even draw his sword…" someone whispered.

Mortis turned his head, his gaze locking onto mine.

I felt a chill run down my spine, my breath catching in my throat. It wasn't just the intensity of his stare it was the void behind it, the complete absence of anything human.

And then, just as calmly as he had fought, he stepped off the platform, disappearing into the crowd without a word.

I exhaled shakily. I seemed to remain calm in most situations but this time I finally realized this is my reality now a cruel reality.