The dueling arena wasn't what Kael expected.
It wasn't some glowing stadium filled with magic or floating banners.
It was raw stone.
A circle carved deep into the training cliffs, surrounded by rows of jagged stone benches where students and professors watched with crossed arms and bored expressions.
No music. No introductions.
Just a sharp bell, a name called, and two students forced to step into the circle and show what they were made of.
When Kael's name was called, a few nobles chuckled.
"Zero Star? Did someone lose a bet?"
"No, no—he's that guy who passed the theory exam by mistake."
Kael ignored them.
He walked into the ring and stood quietly. No fancy robes, no weapon crest, no enchanted gloves. Just him.
His opponent stepped down with swagger in his boots.
Torran Vale.
Tall. Blonde. Dripping arrogance like cologne. He wore his family crest proudly—a lion split by a bolt of lightning.
The crowd immediately shifted, whispers turning to smirks.
"Torran's going to finish this in seconds."
"Watch him humiliate the poor rat."
Torran grinned at Kael.
"Try not to die too quickly, peasant. I don't want blood on my new boots."
Kael just looked at him.
No anger. No fear.
Just calm.
The duel began with a bell.
Torran didn't wait.
He rushed forward, calling a burst of lightning into his right fist. Flashy, loud. The crowd roared.
Kael stepped aside.
Clean. Quiet.
The lightning missed.
Torran frowned.
Kael didn't strike.
He didn't need to.
For five full minutes, Torran danced, screamed, cursed—and missed.
Kael didn't attack.
He dodged. Blocked. Moved like water around fire.
Each time Torran lunged, Kael let him get close—close enough to think he had him.
Then slipped past.
No power. No rune. Just instinct and what Lioren had drilled into his bones.
By the third failed strike, the crowd wasn't laughing.
By the fifth, they were whispering.
By the tenth—
Torran screamed and threw a bolt of lightning meant to end the duel.
Kael stepped into it.
Took it to the chest.
The light cleared.
And Kael was still standing.
Breathing hard. Soot on his shirt.
But standing.
Torran's face twisted.
"What are you?"
Kael looked him dead in the eye.
"Not worth the answer."
Then moved.
One punch.
Fast. Controlled. Targeted.
Torran went down, gasping for air, face-first into the dirt.
Silence.
Then—
"Match complete," the proctor said, voice unsure. "Victor: Kael Riven."
The crowd didn't cheer.
They just stared.
Kael walked off without a word
In the stands, Professor Lioren didn't smile.
But his fingers twitched.
"Hmm," he said quietly.
Beside him, Headmaster Idran leaned forward.
"He's hiding it."
"Obviously."
"You think he's ready?"
Lioren said nothing for a long time.
Then: "No."
A beat.
"But he will be."