The morning of the duel dawned grey and still. Rain had fallen in the night, and the cobbled paths of Arcanum Academy glistened under the clouded sky. Mist clung low around the blackstone towers, and the bells rang slow, as if reluctant to summon the day.
Alex stood alone in the dueling arena, facing a row of empty stone seats that would soon be filled with watching eyes—students, instructors, and Throned alike. His heart pounded beneath his ribcage like a second war drum.
His opponent had not yet arrived.
Nikki approached from the stairway, her cloak drawn tight. She said nothing at first, then offered him a strip of linen.
"For the hands," she said. "Don't want your grip to slip."
Alex wrapped it around his palms with slow precision.
"She's stronger than you," Nikki said finally. "You know that, right?"
"I'm not here to win," he murmured. "I'm here to be seen."
---
The arena filled quickly. The Five Thrones occupied their raised seats, robes heavy with embroidery and ancient runes. Kaelen leaned forward with interest. Damien's eyes were narrowed, as if already weighing Alex's reaction speed. Elis watched with vague amusement.
And Rivena?
She arrived in silence.
Her cloak fluttered like wings of obsidian. Her blade—a silvercurve rapier with glyphs etched down the hilt—hung from her hip.
When she stepped into the arena, the wards flared blue. Combat barriers engaged.
"Alex of Bramblehold," she said calmly. "Do you yield?"
"No."
"Pity."
The bell rang.
Rivena moved like lightning across silk.
Alex barely raised his blade before hers struck. Sparks flew from steel. His knees bent under pressure.
A second strike. Then a third.
She was faster than anyone he'd ever faced. Precise. Elegant. Merciless.
Alex ducked low, rolled, slashed upward. She turned his strike aside with one flick of her wrist.
"You don't belong here," she said, eyes like ice. "You're a peasant with a cursed name."
"Maybe," he grunted, parrying again. "But I'm still standing."
Rivena spun, glyphs lighting along her arm. A ring of wind exploded outward. Alex was thrown across the floor, tumbling until he hit the ward wall.
Pain exploded through his ribs. His vision blurred.
> "Rise."
Kaer Thalor's voice, cool and still.
Alex reached inside.
The mark on his chest burned.
Blood seeped from his shoulder.
But he rose.
And for the first time, he reached for the spirit not out of desperation, but resolve.
The blade in his hand shimmered—not with runes, but with a thin, silent fire. Crimson.
Rivena narrowed her eyes.
"Spirit-binding in open duel is forbidden."
"I'm not invoking it," he said. "It's part of me."
She hesitated. Only for a second.
It was enough.
Alex moved.
His sword clashed against her rapier. The flame licked her glyphs, disrupting their flow. Her shield of wind faltered.
He pressed in.
Strike. Parry. Flame. Blade.
The crowd held its breath.
Rivena gritted her teeth and unleashed a kinetic pulse—a blast of energy meant to end it.
Alex planted his blade in the ground, using it as an anchor.
The force roared around him—but he held.
Then, one step forward.
His blade hovered at her throat.
They froze.
Gasps.
Kaelen stood from his seat.
Therion stepped into the arena.
"Enough."
The wards dropped.
Rivena stepped back, eyes cold.
"You're dangerous," she said.
Alex lowered his blade. "So are you."
---
By evening, his name had appeared on the black-onyx obelisk.
Rank 31.
From nowhere to whispers.
Alex stared at it in silence. Nikki stood beside him.
"You know this won't stop," she said.
"I don't want it to," he replied.
Kaer Thalor stirred within.
> "You have drawn first blood. Now the true test begins."
---