The morning after the duel, the academy returned to its usual rhythm, or at least on the surface. Whispers followed me through the halls like shadows clinging to my heels, but no one dared approach. Not after yesterday. Not after the blood. Not after Damien dropped the truth like a blade in front of everyone.
Let them talk.
I had bigger things to focus on.
The Academy Evaluation Exams.
Every year, they separated the wheat from the chaff. Fail, and you'd be booted down to remedial classes. Excel, and your standing rose. For me, this wasn't about grades. It was about leverage. Power. Moving one step closer to breaking out of the mold Damien and everyone else tried to force me into.
The written exam hall was colder than I expected.
Not freezing, but cold enough to make you wonder if the faculty thought uncomfortable students wrote better answers. Rows of desks stretched endlessly across the stone floor, each marked with a student's name and number. The faint smell of ink, old parchment, and nerves clung to the air.
Stone walls, cold air, and the oppressive silence of a hundred students slowly realizing they were doomed. Neat rows of desks stretched across the room, each with a name placard and a blank sheet of despair.
For whatever reason it's really feel like more torture room than exam hall.
I dropped into my assigned seat, number 74. Front row, dead center. Of course.
My shoulder still ached from yesterday's little friendly duel with Cedric. The bruise on my jaw was manageable, but every time I moved my arm, my muscles reminded me I wasn't getting off easy.
Perfect condition for a written exam.
But to be perfectly honest it's still surprise me, so i can really fight if i want huh?
Professor Lyndra stood at the front like a prison warden. Her eyes swept over us like we were insects under a lens.
"No talking. No cheating. No magic"
Her voice was sharp enough to cut steel.
"And I will know if you try."
The room tensed. A guy near me actually flinched.
Papers were passed down the rows. The parchment was heavy, the ink sharp, and the number of pages? Too damn many.
Vermillion Academy Midterm – Magical Theory, History, and Applied Arcanology.
I sighed.
"Let's get this over with."
The clock chimed. Quills scratched.
First question: Describe the mechanism of mana flow disruption in dual-caster combat. Provide two historical examples.
Not bad. My thoughts were slower than usual, but manageable. I started writing, forcing my aching wrist into motion.
By question three, my hand was cramping.
By question five, I was contemplating if I could fake a seizure and get a medical extension.
Around me, students scribbled furiously, quills darting like panicked insects. I caught sight of Lyria a few rows ahead, completely focused, her writing fast and clean.
No surprise there.
I stretched my fingers, rolled my wrist. Pain flared, but I pushed on.
The next section was rune translation—dense, complicated, and deliberately annoying. I squinted at the symbols, piecing together meanings like a half-broken puzzle. Halfway through, I realized I'd written the wrong incantation flow.
"Damn it"
I muttered, scratching it out and starting over.
Time ticked by too fast. My shoulder burned, my fingers were stiff, and my brain felt like sludge. Every few minutes I paused, stretching, flexing, doing anything short of screaming.
Question after question, I dragged myself through it. Some I answered with confidence, others I half-guessed with as much elegance as I could muster.
I glanced at the final page.
Design a theoretical spell to neutralize mid-tier curse effects using only first-circle incantations. Justify its feasibility.
I stared at it.
Laughed.
Because why not?
With a crooked grin, I started sketching out the most technically possiblex but wildly impractical spell design I could imagine. If they wanted creativity, I'd give them a circus.
Time was almost up when I finished.
I set down my quill, hand aching, shoulder numb, and brain ready to melt out of my ears.
As Professor Lyndra collected the exams, groans echoed through the hall. Some students looked half-dead. One guy just sat there, quill still clutched like a lifeline.
I stood slowly, stretching with a wince.
Outside the hall, Cedric leaned against a wall, looking way too cheerful.
"Alive?"
He asked.
"Barely"
He clapped me on the back—right on the sore shoulder.
"You'll live"
"Next time you want to fight before an exam"
I muttered
"Remind me to throw myself off a building instead."
Cedric laughed, completely unbothered.
"Combat exams tomorrow. Think fast, hit hard."
I groaned.
"Whatever"
...
The corridor outside the exam hall was packed. Students slumped against the walls, some groaning dramatically, others furiously comparing answers like it would undo the damage.
I didn't bother.
Guessing what I got wrong wouldn't help now.
Cedric nudged me with his elbow.
"You going back to the dorms or straight to the training field?"
I blinked at him.
"Are you serious?"
He grinned.
"Gotta prep for tomorrow. Combat exam's not gonna win itself."
Of course he had energy to spare.
I, on the other hand, felt like I'd been run over by a cart and then dragged behind it for good measure.
"I'm going to sleep for twelve hours"
I muttered, rubbing my temples.
"And if anyone wakes me up, they die."
Cedric chuckled.
"Lightweight."
He turned to leave but paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"Don't slack off too much. You know they're pairing students up for the combat matches, right?"
I frowned.
"What?"
"Didn't you hear? They'll post the pairings tonight."
I sighed. Of course they would.
As if things weren't chaotic enough, they'd decided to throw us into duels randomly matched with classmates. Could be a pushover, could be a prodigy with a grudge.
Knowing my luck, probably the latter.
Back at the dorm, I collapsed onto my bed without bothering to change. The sheets were cool, the pillow blissfully soft. I barely had the energy to take off my boots.
Sleep hit me like a brick wall.
...
Darkness.
Endless, formless, suffocating.
I floated in it, weightless. Sensation dulled, time meaningless.
Then—
A voice, velvet and cold, curled around me.
"Poor thing… Still pretending to be strong?"
I turned, but there was nothing. No light. No shape. Just that voice, like a whisper pressed against my ear.
"They mock you behind your back. Fear you. Hate you."
It giggled, soft, almost melodic.
"Why bother holding back?"
I clenched my fists.
"Who are you?"
No answer.
Just a presence, watching, smiling.
"You could be more. So much more."
Images flickered in the void. Fire. Screaming. Power crashing through the sky like a tidal wave.
And i, standing alone in the center of it all.
Unstoppable.
"Let me help you"
The voice cooed.
"I can give you everything. All you have to do… is accept."
I stepped back.
"No."
Silence.
Then the voice turned sharp, edges like blades.
"You will."
A jolt shot through mex cold, electric. I gasped awake, heart pounding, sweat beading on my forehead.
My room was quiet, shadows long in the fading light. Night had fallen.
I sat there for a moment, chest heaving, eyes darting toward the window.
Just a dream.
But it hadn't felt like one.
...
A knock rattled the door.
"Tristan!"
I can heard Cedric called me.
"Pairings are out!"
I let out a long breath, running a hand through my hair.
No surprise. Everyone had been waiting for the combat pairings to post. The same format every year written test, then a practical duel.
I dragged myself to my feet, grabbed my coat, and stepped into the night air, trying to shake off the lingering chill of that dream.
The courtyard was packed. Students clustered around the announcement board, voices rising in excitement—or dread.
I pushed through, eyes scanning the names.
Group 7 – Tristan Von Altrhrone vs. Lyria
A beat passed.
Then I smirked.
Fitting. A rematch.
Our first clash had been chaotic, rushed. Tomorrow, we'd settle it properly.
I sensed someone behind me and turned.
Lyria stood there, her gaze already on the list. She met my eyes, calm and focused.
"I guess it's us"
She said simply.
I nodded.
"Try not to lose too fast."
She raised a brow, unbothered.
"Same to you."
For a moment, neither of us said anything. Just the unspoken understanding tomorrow, we'd go all out.
I turned away, but something still gnawed at the edge of my mind.
That voice…
Let me help you. I can give you everything.
I shook my head.
Tomorrow, I'd fight her, not shadows.
And I'd win on my own.