Chapter 22
—
The sun had barely begun to rise over Aflety Academy, but the air already crackled with tension. Dew clung to the marble stones of the arena like sweat after battle. The duel between Evan and Prince Kael of the foreign Ardent Ember Academy had ended hours ago, yet the echoes of clashing magic and flashing steel still lingered in every corridor.
Evan stood alone at the edge of the eastern cliffside balcony that overlooked the vast spires of Aflety. His cloak fluttered in the morning wind, the hem still stained with soot and char from yesterday's battle. His right arm was wrapped tightly in healing bandages, faint traces of light-elemental magic still shimmering beneath.
Behind him, soft footsteps approached.
"Evan," came Lilith's voice, gentle as moonlight. "You're awake early."
"I couldn't sleep," he replied, his voice calm but heavy. "Too many eyes. Too many questions."
Lilith came to his side, folding her arms as her crimson eyes scanned the horizon.
"You didn't hold back. That's why they're talking," she said. "They've never seen a Basilisk channel elemental darkness like that. You made the foreign prince kneel in front of the entire academy."
Evan didn't respond immediately. His thoughts swirled with the Emperor's letter—the one he had yet to open. It lay sealed in his drawer, humming faintly with magic, as though it too had something to say.
Behind them, the sound of hurried boots echoed.
"Evan!" Gareth Ironfang called out, dragging a long training spear across his shoulder. "You're not skipping breakfast, are you? We've got our team training at dawn, you royal bastard!"
"I didn't forget," Evan muttered with a ghost of a smirk.
Cassia Belvane was already at the courtyard by the time they arrived, a thick strategy scroll spread before her and Silva Elowen leaning silently against a pillar. Their team was gathering.
The competition had officially begun.
The outer training grounds of Aflety Academy had been transformed overnight into a fortified base of operations. Massive elemental barriers flickered in the distance, each glowing with a specific hue: crimson for Fire, azure for Water, emerald for Nature, and silver for Metal. These were the elemental zones—simulated environments constructed to push teams to their limits before the grand inter-academy tournament.
Evan walked with measured steps into the center courtyard where the tournament strategy board hovered mid-air, rotating slowly with sigils and diagrams marked across its surface. Every student's name was engraved in glowing runes alongside color-coded affiliations.
A magical illusion of Headmaster Gawain loomed above it, his voice stern and booming:
"Each division team must face trials across multiple elements. Adaptation, synergy, and tactics will be judged—not just raw power. Choose your elemental zone carefully. Triumph, and you'll earn prestige. Fail, and your academy's honor will falter."
"…Talk about pressure," Gareth muttered, cracking his knuckles as he stared at the glowing board. "We pick one element to start in, right? I vote Fire."
"You would," Cassia muttered without looking up from her notebook. "But picking Fire against those Ardent Academy elites is foolish. They've trained in volcanic conditions since birth."
"What do you suggest then, strategy queen?" Gareth asked, mockingly bowing.
Cassia didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she calmly pointed to the silver-hued Metal zone.
"We begin where most won't. The Metal zone is considered the most brutal—low mana density, iron terrain, and anti-magic interference. It'll weed out teams that rely purely on spell spam. But if we survive there, the rest will feel like air."
Silva, still leaning against a column, finally spoke. "And it'll give us an edge in morale. Dominating in Metal will send a message."
Evan nodded. "Then we start there. But we move together. The Basilisk and I will lead the first descent."
…
Elsewhere, Hidden in the Academy's Depths…
Beneath Aflety's foundations, where light rarely touched and whispers carried power, a shadowy figure walked into a chamber of silence.
Dozens of robed individuals knelt in a circle, all bearing the insignia of The Black Nest—a masked eye stitched into obsidian fabric.
At the center stood a tall figure, clad in a cloak of feathers and chains. His mask was crimson bone, with curved horns etched in runes.
"Our agents among the visiting academies have confirmed it," the masked leader said. "The Rochel heir has awakened the Basilisk."
Murmurs echoed.
"His blood, his beast, his bond—it all aligns with the prophecy of the Twelfth Serpent."
"And what of the Emperor's letter?"
The masked leader turned to a cloaked subordinate. "Stolen. But encrypted. We'll decipher it before the finals."
From the shadows, a dark smile flickered.
"Let the tournament begin. And let the Feral Lands bleed."
—
Back at the Training Grounds…
Evan's team stood ready at the gates of the Metal Zone. Arcane gears rotated above them, preparing the portal for activation.
A professor approached—one Evan hadn't seen before. Tall, wrapped in flowing robes of shimmering white and gold, with eyes like fractured glass.
"Professor Valen Rhime," the man said, bowing his head. "I oversee the Metal Zone trials."
"Another new face," Lilith whispered.
"I'll be watching your performance closely, Rochel heir," Valen said, his voice almost melodic. "Not just as your evaluator… but as someone very interested in your bloodline."
Before Evan could respond, the zone gates groaned open—and a blinding silver light pulled them in.
—
Inside the Metal Zone…
The air was thick with iron. Steel trees, jagged cliffs, and razor-edged winds shaped the landscape. Mana felt heavier here, like it resisted being drawn.
"Ugh, this place smells like rust," Gareth muttered.
Silva's hands glowed faintly as she tested her Nature magic—only to see it fail.
Cassia frowned. "Told you. Anti-magic fields. We'll need to rely on physical synergy here."
Noctris jumped from Evan's arm, its scales gleaming with liquid shadows. It coiled on a rock, hissing low.
"Enemy movement," Evan warned. "To the north."
Within moments, monstrous constructs of metal and stone rose from the ground—guardians of the zone.
Evan's blade drew free, a crackle of darkness and water mixing in the air.
"For the Rochel name," he muttered.
"For glory," Silva said calmly, summoning a bow of pure thorns.
"For chaos!" Gareth roared, charging forward.
Cassia and Lilith flanked him with silent grace.
Noctris struck first—its tiny body a blur as it launched a blast of compressed darkness into a sentinel's core. The construct screeched before crumbling into shards.
Evan smirked. "You're getting stronger."
Noctris flicked its tail smugly.
Chapter End
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