The third day of the Team Trials was supposed to be calm.
A day for rest.
Recovery.
Reflection.
Kael had planned to nap under a tree for at least five uninterrupted hours.
Naturally, that didn't happen.
—
"You Have Been Challenged"
"Kael Vaelthorn. I challenge you to a duel!" came the loud, echoing voice.
Kael opened one eye, squinting at the figure standing dramatically atop a rock.
He didn't recognize him.
Then again, he rarely did.
Lyra groaned beside him. "Another one?"
Hema adjusted her glasses. "That's the third duel request today."
Mira was already pulling out her notepad. "Name: Callen Dros. Son of Lord Dros. Known for being… average."
Kael yawned. "Why's he shouting?"
"To sound more important," Lyra muttered.
Renley whispered, "Are we supposed to clap or something?"
Kael sat up. "Can't I just forfeit and go back to sleep?"
Callen was still mid-monologue. "—and I shall prove myself before all of you!"
Kael raised his hand. "Do I actually have to fight this guy?"
Lyra nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. Rules of challenge."
Kael sighed, standing up and dusting his cloak. "Fine. But if he dislocates my shoulder, someone owes me soup."
—
Ten Minutes Later: Dueling Ring
A crowd gathered. Not because they thought it would be an epic fight…
…but because Kael was involved, and somehow, somehow, those always became legend.
Callen struck a pose. "Prepare yourself!"
Kael blinked slowly. "Alright."
Callen lunged, his blade flashing with practiced flair.
Kael tripped.
Not intentionally.
Just a tree root.
He stumbled forward, flailed wildly—and headbutted Callen in the stomach.
Callen crumpled.
Everyone gasped.
Someone whispered, "He used his body like a weapon."
Another: "What precision! He knew the exact moment to strike!"
Lyra facepalmed. "He just fell!"
Hema was furiously writing:
> Kael's kinetic control surpasses conscious awareness. Possibly instinctual battle-augury.
Kael stood up. "Ow. My face."
—
After the Duel
Callen was carried off by his squad.
Still moaning.
Still confused.
Kael sipped water beside the arena.
"You did well," Lyra said, tone teasing.
"Thank you. I dedicate that victory to my shoelaces."
Renley peeked around the tree. "You've got a duel with a lightning archer tomorrow."
"Of course I do," Kael muttered.
Mira added, "Also, a sword-dancer from the Eastern Wing. She says your 'aura is disrespectfully calm.'"
Kael squinted. "How can calm be disrespectful?"
—
That Night: Fireflies and Frustration
The camp was unusually peaceful.
Kael sat alone by the stream, letting the cool water run through his fingers.
The sky was scattered with stars.
And the fireflies were dancing.
Lyra approached and sat beside him without a word.
They sat in silence for a while.
Then she said, "You're getting famous."
Kael groaned. "Great. That's what I always wanted."
"You're being challenged every day."
"I noticed."
She looked at him. "It's bothering you?"
Kael was quiet.
Then: "Everyone thinks I'm hiding something. A grand secret. Some ancient power. Truth is… I'm just trying not to trip over rocks."
Lyra turned to him. "You are hiding something, Kael."
He looked at her, startled.
"You're hiding how deeply you care. How much you're paying attention when everyone thinks you're not."
He blinked. "...What?"
She smirked. "You deflect with sarcasm. But you always remember where the traps are. Who needs help. When someone's lying. You don't miss anything."
Kael looked back at the stream.
A firefly landed on his knee.
He didn't move.
"Maybe," he said softly.
—
Elsewhere: In the Watching World
The Shadow Society recorded every moment.
The Demon Generals were starting to whisper.
A dragon in the East stirred in his slumber, sensing something strange in the wind.
And the fake protagonist, Eiren Locke, brooded under moonlight.
"He keeps winning," Eiren muttered. "No form. No technique. No purpose."
Arla, ever devoted, placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll expose him. We'll show everyone that you're the real chosen one."
But even she sounded unsure.
Because deep down, even she was starting to wonder—
What was Kael Vaelthorn?
—
Back at the Stream
Kael stood.
"Bed?"
Lyra nodded.
They walked back toward camp.
Just as they reached the tents, Lyra quietly said, "Next time you duel…"
"Yeah?"
"Try to win on purpose."
Kael smiled faintly. "No promises."
—
End of Chapter 41