The early light of dawn bathed the Royal Academy in gold, yet the mood in the air was far from serene. Whispers of anticipation slid through corridors like wind between blades. This morning, everyone knew, would end in either glory or disgrace. Two names stood on the brink of history: Kaelian and Leor Venstral.
Though officially labeled a "formal magical assessment," the duel had all the makings of something more dangerous—something personal.
The Quiet Before the Storm
Kaelian stood alone in the antechamber beside the arena, his back straight, his mind razor-sharp. The black robe he wore bore no family crest. His status as an unclaimed royal bastard ensured that he remained unacknowledged. But what he lacked in title, he more than made up for in raw brilliance.
The faint shimmer around his pupils, barely visible unless one looked too long, hinted at a controlled but potent power—blood magic, a force long outlawed yet never fully erased.
The room was cold. Lyssa had been there earlier, offering soft words of encouragement, but Kaelian was already lost in the maze of calculations and possibilities. This was not just a fight—it was a message. Every movement, every incantation would be a declaration of intent.
His opponent, Leor Venstral, was the golden child of the Academy. Son of a powerful duke, he was a charismatic fire mage known for flashy victories and ruthless efficiency. Today's duel wasn't born of rivalry but of calculation. Kaelian knew Leor was not the true enemy.
The true orchestrator sat far beyond these walls—Theor, Kaelian's legitimate half-brother, the crown prince. The duel was a test, yes—but not of magic. It was a test of Kaelian's place in the game of thrones.
The Duel Begins
The arena was ringed by rows of rising marble benches, already filled with nobles, scholars, and high-ranking instructors. Magical enchantments lined the dueling circle, ensuring that combatants could not be permanently harmed—though accidents were always "possible."
When Kaelian's name was called—"Kaelian of the Unclaimed Blood!"—a murmur of mockery rippled through the crowd. Some students smirked. Others looked away.
Then came Leor in his crimson dueling robes, golden trim glittering. The applause was thunderous.
Kaelian stepped into the arena. He said nothing, simply locking eyes with his opponent.
The ceremonial gong sounded.
Opening Salvos
Leor moved first, summoning a swirling sigil beneath his feet. Flames erupted into the shape of a coiling serpent and lunged across the arena.
Kaelian didn't flinch. With two fingers, he traced a rune midair—subtle and precise. The serpent abruptly veered off course and exploded against the magical barrier. Gasps echoed through the stands.
Master Elgorn, watching from the judging platform, leaned forward. "Mental redirection through spatial disruption," he murmured. "He's improvising... fascinating."
Kaelian responded with a gravity hex that caused the floor beneath Leor's feet to pulse and destabilize. Illusion layered over distortion—it wasn't real, but it felt real.
Leor stumbled, cursing, and countered with a fire burst that singed the air. Kaelian rolled aside, invoking a ring of smoke-like shadows to trail behind him. Not a weapon—yet.
They circled. Spell met spell. Sparks, ice, flame, and light tangled and clashed. But slowly, the pattern became clear.
Leor had power. Kaelian had control.
Psychological Warfare
Then came the whisper.
Kaelian, using a narrow telepathic stream learned from a forbidden tome in the restricted archives, inserted a thought directly into Leor's mind:
"You're being used. Burn yourself out for them if you want."
Leor faltered. His next spell fizzled. "What—what did you say?!"
Kaelian didn't answer aloud.
From the stands, Queen Virella's hand tightened on the edge of her chair.
Theor, seated near her, simply smiled.
The duel escalated. Leor regained composure and launched a massive flame volley. Kaelian responded by splitting the spell mid-air using mirror glyphs and redirecting the blaze skyward, where it dissipated like harmless fireworks.
Then Kaelian bled.
Blood and Revelation
With a practiced motion, he sliced his palm. A thick stream of blood fell to the arena floor. The crowd stilled.
From the crimson, Kaelian summoned something ancient—a ritual circle that shimmered black and violet. Symbols of the old world glowed with quiet menace.
Master Elgorn stood, his eyes wide.
"Blood magic," one noble whispered in horror.
Kaelian spoke no incantation. The circle pulsed. A dome of energy formed around him—dense, impenetrable.
Leor struck with everything he had: a pillar of dragonfire. But the flames curled and died before they touched Kaelian. They were absorbed, consumed by the circle.
And then… silence.
Kaelian stepped forward.
Leor collapsed.
The duel was over.
Aftermath and Ramifications
A long moment passed before Master Elgorn raised his voice.
"Victor: Kaelian."
No cheers. Only stunned quiet.
Kaelian was escorted out of the arena not in disgrace, but with a silent reverence typically reserved for monsters or saints.
Back in his chamber, Lyssa awaited him.
"You used blood magic," she said, barely audible.
"I had to," he replied. "Now they'll show themselves."
Two letters awaited him.
One was from Dorn Valek, written in cipher.
The second bore no seal. Just a single word: "Brother."
Kaelian chuckled. "Let the real duel begin."
Beyond the Arena
At the palace, Queen Virella paced in fury.
"He's a threat."
But Theor sipped his wine calmly.
"He's a tool. For now."
A Shadow Watching
Alone again, Kaelian examined the scab on his palm.
"That was just the first step," he murmured.
Behind him, unseen, a shadow shifted.
Something had watched. Something had awakened.
And Kaelian smiled.
Let the court play its game. He had already changed the rules.
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