The indoor arena seemed to hold its breath. The final duel of the first-year students’ competition was about to begin. And it turned out to be Seraphus against me, both of us undefeated, each with six consecutive wins. This match would decide who would claim the title of the top student in swordplay among the first-year class. The stakes couldn’t have been higher, and everyone in the arena knew it.

Leading up to this moment, I had spent ample time studying Seraphus’ family sword style, the Whirling Vortex, from his previous matches. And it was a terrifying technique. His blade spun through the air with dizzying speed, cutting through the space around him as though it were an extension of his very will. Seraphus executed the style with such finesse that it almost looked like a dance. He favored precision and skill combined with brute strength, a fact that meant I would have to be hyper-aware and exceptionally quick to counter his strikes.

The duel started with a verbal signal from the instructor. Immediately, the crowd’s energy shifted, their attention locked onto us. Seraphus was all business. His body was already coiled, prepared for a blade-to-blade clash. He launched into a rapid series of strikes, each one coming at me like a gust of wind. But I was ready, my feet flowing through a well-practiced pattern that allowed me to dodge or deflect his blows.

Our blades clashed with a heavy shock, and a jolt ran up my arm. Despite Seraphus’ superior strength, I noticed something flicker in his expression, a narrowing of his eyes, a tightening of his jaw. The strain started to wear on him. Each time his blade came close, I was just a step ahead. My footwork was nimble, my movements precise. The crowd, sensing the underdog narrative, cheered me on louder, urging me forward with chants of support. The atmosphere changed as I held my ground against Seraphus. I could almost hear the whispers. “Can she actually pull this off?”

The duel escalated, the intensity building with every passing moment. Then I saw it. Something changed in Seraphus. A soft blue glow began to emanate from his blade, flickering at first, but soon intensifying. I recognized it immediately, the Aura blade. It was a technique none of us in our class had fully mastered yet, and now I knew Seraphus had been hiding his talent all along. But there was something about the glow. It wasn’t as brilliant as what I’d seen during the duel between Victhor and Cassiel. That told me everything I needed to know. Seraphus was using the Aura blade, but his mastery of it was imperfect. It gave him an edge, but not as much of one as he hoped.

With the Aura blade in play, his strikes grew heavier, faster, and more inexorable. I was struggling to keep up, my parries no longer enough to deflect the full force of his blows. His speed and power were overwhelming, and my mind raced for a solution. The pressure was mounting, and I had no choice but to fall back on what I knew best. The Beginner’s Dance. But even those steps weren’t enough to hold him back.

Then, in a split second, he struck, hard. I barely deflected the blow, but it was enough to throw me off balance. I tumbled to the ground with a thud, pain shooting through my side as I scrambled to regain my footing. This is it. Seraphus was closing in fast, blade raised, ready to end the duel.

But in that instant, something stirred within me. I half unconsciously tapped into the teachings of the Elemental Seven, although I had vowed to my master Johan to harness their power only when my life was truly in danger, never during something as trivial as a swordplay contest. Talk about a broken promise. I was just glad my master wasn’t around to witness what I was about to do.

I started with the seventh step, Blade of the Phoenix. A rush of energy erupted from deep inside me, like fire exploding in my chest. The warmth spread, and I felt my movements grow faster, sharper, and more fluid. I sprang to my feet, my blade meeting Seraphus’ in a perfect parry.

Next, I transitioned into the third step, Stoneguard. My stance shifted, grounding me, like the roots of a tree locking me to the earth. I absorbed the weight of Seraphus’ strikes, feeling the strength of his blows dissipate as I expertly deflected them. As the duel continued, I saw frustration grow on his face. His strikes slowed, and his movements became more erratic. It was working.

Seizing the opening, I pressed forward, refusing to give him a chance to recover. I closed the distance between us with a powerful swing, forcing him back. He tried to counter, but I flowed into the sixth step, Silent Shadow. My footwork was a dance of quick, almost imperceptible movements, and I slid past him, leaving him open. Before he could react, I swept his leg out from under him with my own, sending him crashing to the ground.

In one swift motion, I pointed my blade at his throat; the tip hovering just inches from his skin. The duel was over.

The arena erupted into deafening applause. My heart fluttered, pounding in my chest, but there was no time to savor the victory. My classmates rushed in, crowding the arena, congratulating me with cheers and pats on the back. Amid the celebration, Seraphus remained sitting on the ground, his chest heaving with exertion. His eyes held a look of defeat, but there was something else, too. Respect. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. In that moment, I felt a connection to him, a rivalry forged in the heat of battle. A rivalry that would push us both to grow stronger.

As I basked in the admiration of my peers, my gaze drifted toward the gallery. There, I caught sight of Professor Ambacht. His expression was one of shock, but there was something else lurking behind it, something unreadable in his eyes. It was as if he was trying to process what had just happened, but his face betrayed a little. Then, as quickly as he had appeared, he turned and disappeared from view.

My brows furrowed as I mulled over the professor’s abrupt departure. Was he simply observing, or did his presence hint at something deeper? His action, or lack thereof, had me second-guessing everything I thought I knew about this competition. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about the whole situation didn’t sit right.

*******

Under the pale light of the full moon, an abandoned building positioned at the northern end of the academy seemed to stretch and groan, filling the empty grounds with shadows that seemed to move and breathe. Midnight struck, and Professor Zwart Ambacht appeared as if summoned from the night itself. He slithered through the courtyard with an eerie grace, his form barely visible against the darkness. Dressed in the school staff uniform, it clung to his slender frame, making him seem less like a man and more like a shadow, indistinguishable from the night that surrounded him. Each movement was a part of the silent dance of darkness.

As he moved, his eyes scanned every corner and crevice of the building. His body tensed with every soft noise, every subtle shift in the air. Then, without warning, a mythical beast emerged from the shadows, startling him. It resembled a small, starry-furred dog, its fur catching the moonlight and glistening as it stuck out its long tongue, savoring ants, its favorite snack.

Professor Ambacht’s breath caught, not just from the surprise, but from the disruption the creature had caused. His mission had been compromised. Annoyed, he waved the creature away with a sharp motion, muttering curses under his breath. The creature, sensing the hostility, retreated into the darkness, vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared. The professor sighed in relief, though his mind remained cautious. What else could go wrong tonight?

An hour later, a tall, hooded figure emerged from the deepest part of the building, its features hidden in the cloak of darkness. Seeing this, Professor Ambacht moved quickly toward the figure. A strange unease settled over him.

“Why did you call this meeting?” The man’s voice sliced through the air.

“There’s a matter that requires your immediate attention, young master,” Professor Ambacht replied, his voice steady.

“Couldn’t this wait until the monthly report?” The man’s mood was discernibly sour.

“This is too urgent for a note,” the professor insisted, his impatience seeping through. He hoped his urgency would convey the seriousness of the situation.

“So, what’s so pressing that you had to see me personally?” the man asked, his tone bordering on irritation.

Professor Ambacht took a breath, careful with his words. “I’ve been observing a first-year cadet, Arianna Redgrave. There’s a dormant power within her, something unexplainable. Today, my suspicions were confirmed.”

There was a long pause before he spoke. “Why were you watching this girl in the first place?” The man’s doubt was conspicuous in his tone.

“There’s something extraordinary about her, something very important. During the freshmen’s dueling contest, she flawlessly executed the Elemental Seven,” Professor Ambacht said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He recalled the duel with striking clarity.

A thick silence fell, and Professor Ambacht noticed something strange about his young master’s body language upon hearing this piece of news. It was as if his young master had been present during the competition and had witnessed the technique being executed right before his eyes.

“Mm… but how do you know she really executed the Seven?” the man murmured. His tone sounded like disbelief.

“You showed me that technique once, young master,” Professor Ambacht replied. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than his young master was letting on.

“Ah, I see,” the man replied, nodding. “Then keep watching her. I’ll look into her past and any secrets she might be hiding.” A thoughtful silence followed before he spoke again, his voice turning cold. “Have you finished the ‘device’?”

“In a few months, it will be done,” Professor Ambacht answered. “But I need your Dark Crystal fragment to complete it.”

The man’s expression darkened. “Do your part. When the time comes, I’ll give you the piece,” he said sharply.

“Understood, young master,” Professor Ambacht replied. After a brief pause, he added, “For the kingdom.”

Another silence hung between them before the man’s dark voice responded. “Yes, for the kingdom.” And with that, he turned, disappearing into the night, leaving Professor Ambacht standing alone in the courtyard.