The combat arena buzzed with restless energy, packed to the brim with students—first-years craning their necks for a better view, upperclassmen lounging in the stands with amused smirks, even a few instructors lingering near the exits.
The air smelled of ozone and anticipation.
This wasn't just any ranking match.
It was the first official duel of the freshman class.
And more than that—it was the Gale Witch's little brother versus an arrogant noble brat.
Kaelith Duskrend stood at the center of the arena, arms crossed, his foot tapping impatiently against the stone floor. He had arrived early, of course.
Preening. Posturing. Letting the crowd murmur about his polished combat boots, his sharpened aura, the way fire flickered at his fingertips like he was already celebrating his victory.
Then—
Kyle Valemont strolled in.
Hands in his pockets.
Like he was taking a casual walk through the gardens.
The contrast was almost comical. Kaelith, tense and prepped for battle. Kyle, relaxed to the point of boredom.
Kaelith's lip curled. "Glad you came, Valemont. I thought you would be crying to your sister by now."
Kyle didn't answer. Just smiled.
His eyes?
Cold.
Instructor Lance, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped between them. "Weapons?"
"No," they answered in unison.
Kaelith smirked. "Wouldn't want you to accidentally cut yourself, commoner."
Kyle's smile didn't waver.
Lance nodded. "Rules are simple. Fight until surrender or knockout. No lethal strikes. Ready?"
They nodded.
Kaelith raised his hands, flames already licking between his fingers. His lips twisted into a smirk.
"BEGIN!"
"Let's see how long you last—"
Kyle vanished.
Kaelith's smirk froze.
A voice, low and calm, whispered behind his ear.
"Looking for someone?"
Kaelith spun, fireball already launching—
Kyle wasn't there.
The fireball exploded harmlessly against the arena barrier.
A foot slammed into Kaelith's ribs.
"Ghk—!"
He stumbled, the breath knocked out of him. The crowd gasped. Kyle had kicked him—his hand still his pockets.
And he was still smiling.
No warning. No flashy technique. Just pure mana enforced speed.
Kaelith staggered, coughing. His eyes burned with fury. "You—!"
Kyle was already five steps away, hands still in his pockets.
The crowd erupted.
"Did you see that?!"
"He didn't even use an element!"
Kaelith snarled, flames erupting around him in a wild spiral. "Quit running, coward!"
Kyle tilted his head. Then—
He moved.
A blur. A flicker.
Kaelith barely had time to raise his arms before a kick hammered into his guard, sending him skidding back.
Another kick—this time to his thigh.
Another—his shoulder.
Not with lightning.
Not with wind.
Just pure, mana reinforced speed.
A kick to the thigh.
A sharp jab to the kidney with his knee.
A spinning heel to the shoulder.
Each strike precise.
Each strike just hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to end it.
Kaelith staggered, sweat beading on his forehead.
His fire sputtered, unfocused.
He couldn't even touch Kyle.
Every time he lunged, Kyle was already gone, reappearing somewhere else with that infuriating calm.
The crowd was murmuring now.
"He's toying with him…"
"Damn, Valemont's fast."
"Why isn't he using his lightning?"
Kaelith's face burned hotter than his flames. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to crush this nobody, humiliate him in front of the entire academy—
Kyle's foot hooked behind his ankle.
"Oops."
Kaelith hit the ground hard, his chin scraping against stone.
Laughter rippled through the stands.
Kaelith's breaths came in ragged gasps. His arms ached. His legs trembled.
Kyle stood there, watching. Waiting.
Kyle finally took his hands out of his pockets.
Not to fight.
Just to crack his knuckles.
"Had enough?" he asked, voice flat.
Kaelith roared, surging up with a wild haymaker—
Kyle ducked.
Then Kyle punched him in the gut with raw mana concentrating in his hand.
Kaelith folded like a paper doll, gasping.
Before he could recover, Kyle pivoted—
—and drop-kicked him in the face.
"CRACK!"
Lightning flared, a brilliant blue-white burst as Kaelith's head slammed into the ground. His body skidded across the arena, leaving a shallow trench in the stone.
Silence.
Then—
"HOLY SHIT!"
The crowd erupted.
Kyle landed lightly, dusting off his pants. He didn't even look at Kaelith's limp form. Just turned and walked away, hands back in his pockets.
Somewhere in the stands, a group of girls squealed.
"That was so cool!"
"He didn't even break a sweat!"
"And he's way hotter up close—"
Kyle ignored them.
Instructor Lance blinked at Kaelith's unconscious body, then at Kyle's retreating back.
"Match goes to Valemont."
The cheers grew louder.
Kyle didn't care.
He had better things to do.
****
Cedric leaned against the railing of the combat arena's upper stands, arms crossed as he watched the match unfold below. Beside him, Cassian Emberfall—Rank 2 and perpetually smug—let out a low whistle.
"Damn. Valemont's not even trying."
Lyra Silverwind— Rank 8—her emerald-green hair tied back in a sharp ponytail, scoffed. "Of course he isn't. Kaelith's all bark and no bite." She smirked, ruby eyes gleaming.
"Though I do love watching arrogant nobles eat dirt."
Sylvie Wavecrest—Rank 7— adjusted her round glasses, her blue hair nearly covering her nervous expression.
"B-But Kaelith's Grade 1 Bronze now… shouldn't that make a difference?"
Cedric didn't answer right away.
His eyes tracked Kyle's movements—fluid, effortless, like he was barely exerting himself.
"He's reinforcing his body with pure mana" Cedric finally said. "No elemental enhancement. Just raw control."
Cassian raised an eyebrow. "That's insane. Even for a top ten."
Lyra grinned, resting her chin on her palm. "Well, he is the Gale Witch's brother. Talent runs in the blood."
Cedric ignored the fanboying.
"He's holding back his breakthrough too."
That got their attention.
"What?" Cassian frowned. "Why the hell would he do that?"
"Long-term benefits" Cedric said simply. "If you focus on mastery and control before ranking up, your foundation is stronger. You grow faster later."
Lyra blinked. "Huh. That… actually makes sense."
Sylvie bit her lip. "B-But isn't it risky? What if someone challenges him while he's still Grade 2?"
Cedric's lips twitched. "I don't think that's a problem for him."
Below, Kaelith lunged again, fire roaring from his fists—only for Kyle to sidestep lazily and kick him in the ribs.
"Oof—!" Kaelith wheezed, stumbling.
The crowd laughed.
Lyra cackled. "Oh, this is beautiful."
Cassian shook his head. "Kaelith's getting dismantled. And Kyle is not even using his lightning."
Cedric's eyes narrowed. Kyle's movements were too precise. His footwork, his timing—it wasn't just skill.
It was like he had fought before. Really fought. Not academy spars. Not controlled matches. (Of course, he had a deathmatch with Aurelia every morning. But who's gonna tell him)
'Who are you, Kyle Valemont?'
Then—
"CRACK!"
A lightning-wreathed drop kick sent Kaelith's face slamming into the arena floor. The noble didn't move.
Silence.
Then—chaos.
The crowd erupted. Girls shrieked.
Somewhere, a senior yelled "HOLY SHIT, THAT WAS COLD!"
Kyle just walked away, hands back in his pockets.
Lyra whistled. "Okay, that was hot."
Cassian snorted. "You are just saying that because he's Instructor Aurelia's brother."
"So what if I am?" Lyra flipped her hair. "The Gale Witch's bloodline is elite."
Sylvie squeaked. "H-He's looking this way!"
Cedric followed her gaze. Kyle, now at the arena's exit, glanced up—directly at 'him.'
For a split second, their eyes locked.
Then Kyle smirked.
And walked off.
Cassian elbowed Cedric. "Think he's sizing you up?"
Cedric didn't answer.
But he was smiling.
****
Author's Note: "Add this to your library, drop some Power Stones and show some love because creativity is hard, folks!" 😅✨