Veyron and Taeryun locked eyes, then stepped toward the center of the training hall.
Their expressions could not have been more different.
Veyron's face was flat and cold—as if this duel were nothing more than routine. Taeryun, on the other hand, wore a faint smile, his eyes burning with confidence.
Taeryun raised his wooden sword, the tip pointing straight at Veyron.
"Come on," he said lightly.
"Are you ready, Veyron?"
Veyron lowered his center of gravity. He drew his blade back over his shoulder, assuming a stance meant to strike.
"I'm ready," he replied calmly.
"I've been ready for a long time, Taeryun."
SWUSH!
BOOM!
Their wooden swords collided.
The impact shook the hall—the ground beneath their feet cracked, and even the floor they stood on split apart.
And yet…
why had Taeryun challenged him in the first place?
---
Morning — Before the Duel
The academy corridors were still empty. Morning light filtered through the tall windows as Veyron walked alone.
"Veyron."
He stopped and turned.
Taeryun stood a few steps behind him, lifting a hand in brief acknowledgment.
"What is it?" Veyron asked, his tone as cold as ever.
Taeryun approached and stopped directly in front of him. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a serious—almost icy—gaze.
"Fight me."
No preamble.
"No spectators."
"No excuses."
He stared straight at Veyron.
"You're always standing ahead of me."
"But I've never known… how far the distance truly is."
Veyron was silent for a moment. Then he chuckled softly.
Not mockery.
Interest.
"Fine," he said.
"Let's measure… where you and I truly stand."
They shook hands.
"At dusk," Taeryun said.
"When everyone's back in their rooms."
Veyron nodded.
"Agreed."
---
Back to the Present
Taeryun attacked first.
His blade swung upward from below—
SLASH!
Veyron leapt back, retreating with precise distance.
He did not evade because he was weak.
He evaded because he had read the strike.
Taeryun's slash carved a long crack into the training hall floor.
Veyron countered.
Their swords clashed again and again.
TING!
TING!
TING!
Taeryun jumped back and twisted his wrist. Mana flowed into his next strike.
"Basic Fire Sword Technique—Cinder Recall!"
SWUSH!
The air grew hot.
Veyron felt the heat scrape against the ceiling. His eyes narrowed—serious now.
Taeryun stood at a distance, his breathing growing heavy.
Then realization struck.
"You…" Taeryun muttered.
"You're not fighting."
He glared at Veyron.
"You're waiting."
SWUSH!
Taeryun lunged at full speed—his intent clear: to end the duel.
TING!
A heavy impact.
Taeryun froze.
His strike had been stopped—by Veyron's wooden sword.
No mana.
No technique.
Only absolute precision.
Taeryun looked up—and saw a faint smile on Veyron's face.
The fight was over.
In one smooth motion, Veyron knocked Taeryun's sword away. The tip of his blade stopped at Taeryun's throat.
Silence.
This duel… belonged to Veyron.
Taeryun collapsed onto his back, breathing heavily as he stared at the cracked ceiling.
"Well, Veyron," he said between breaths.
"In that fight… you didn't even use one percent of your power, did you?"
Veyron sat down amid the shattered floor.
"No," he answered flatly.
"I didn't use even a single drop."
Taeryun's eyes widened. Respect—and fear—slipped into his gaze.
He pushed himself upright, staring hard at Veyron.
"Do you know what happened to Lyra's family?" he asked.
"I don't."
The answer made Taeryun grab Veyron's shoulders and shake him.
"Don't lie!" he shouted.
"I can see it in your eyes—you know something. Say it!"
Before Veyron could respond, a voice echoed in his mind.
Hello, Veyron.
Soft. Playful. Not of the physical world.
Relax. I'm speaking via telepathy.
What is it, Seraphyra? Veyron replied internally.
Straight to the point, she said.
During the fight—did you feel your friend's mana beginning to form a Domain Mana?
Veyron glanced at Taeryun.
I felt it, he thought.
His mana followed his will. His Mana Core shifted into his hand… pushing that wooden sword beyond its limits.
Seraphyra chuckled.
Fascinating. Veyron, could you help me observe his Domain Mana directly?
Her tone turned deliberately teasing.
"Fine," Veyron said quietly.
He stood and steadied Taeryun.
"Taeryun," he said.
"You want to know why Lyra returned home, don't you?"
"Y-yes…"
Veyron sat cross-legged and closed his eyes.
"Then we make a deal. Show me your Domain Mana—and I'll tell you why she left."
Taeryun hesitated, then stood abruptly.
"No," he said firmly.
"I'm not stupid. You're dangerous, Veyron."
Veyron sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Do you want to help Lyra or not?"
"She's our friend. I swear—I won't lie this time."
Taeryun searched his eyes for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"Fine… but I might get hurt."
He stepped into the center of the hall and closed his eyes.
"Domain Mana: Edict of the Burning Hour."
His eyes opened—glowing blue.
Gravity pressed down. The air hardened.
Time… held its breath.
Seraphyra screamed inside Veyron's mind.
Yes… this is no ordinary Domain.
Suddenly, Taeryun groaned. The Domain cracked and collapsed.
"What happened?" Veyron asked sharply.
"It's fine," Taeryun said through pain.
"I can't control it yet. This Domain always hurts me."
Veyron moved to lift him, but Taeryun refused.
"I can walk on my own."
As Taeryun left, Veyron realized something.
Time within the academy… had truly stopped, if only for a moment.
"Seraphyra," he murmured.
"Taeryun's Domain… it's Chrono, isn't it?"
She manifested as a spirit.
"Yes."
Veyron fell silent.
"How does one fully control Domain Mana?"
She stared at him.
"You have one too, Veyron."
"How do you know?"
"Zephyron told me."
"Now meditate."
Veyron sat down. Zephyron appeared.
"To control a Domain," he said sternly,
"you must move your Mana Core to the hands, feet, heart, head, and brain."
"Your friend can only move it to his hands and feet."
"That means… stage two."
"Stage two?" Veyron opened his eyes—
—and was immediately struck.
"Focus!"
Seraphyra continued calmly.
"That was not a failed Domain.
It was a Proto-Domain."
"And the complete one?"
"Domain Sovereignty."
"And the final stage?"
"When the Domain stops harming its user… and begins to acknowledge their existence."
Veyron sank deeper into meditation.
Blue mana spiraled around him.
A Proto-Domain formed.
Then—pressure surged.
Domain Sovereignty.
Seraphyra and Zephyron dropped to their knees.
"Only stage two…" Seraphyra gasped.
"And it nearly covered the Northern Territory."
Veyron opened his eyes.
"Oh."
"I forgot to cancel it."
The pressure vanished.
Night had fallen. The training hall was silent once more.
Veyron left for his room—
and opened Lyra's letter.
---
Veyron's Room
Veyron sat at his desk, his hair still damp from bathing. Water dripped onto the floor, unnoticed. In his hand was a simple envelope sealed with thin wax.
Lyra's letter.
He broke the seal and unfolded the paper slowly—as if delaying what he already knew.
---
Letter from Lyra Valenfyr
Veyron,
If this letter reaches you, then I have failed to escape.
I was forced back to the Southern Territory—not by choice, but by those who see me as nothing more than a tool. A political marriage. A word that sounds noble, but to me… it is a prison.
They say the ceremony will be held after the Winter Festival ends.
Not long now.
I don't know how many days remain, but every morning I wake with the feeling that my time is running out.
I wanted to refuse. I truly did. But when I hesitated, I remembered your words.
"If you ever need my help, call me."
That promise is the only reason I dared to return.
Veyron… I don't ask for miracles. I only don't want to lose myself.
If you're reading this, and still consider me your friend—
please, don't leave me alone.
This may be my final request.
—Lyra Valenfyr
---
Veyron folded the letter. His hands were steady—his eyes were not.
He placed it back into the envelope and walked to the window. Cool night air flowed in as he opened it.
The night sky stretched endlessly, stars glittering in quiet indifference to human schemes below.
Veyron smiled faintly.
"So…" he murmured.
"The enemy has begun to move."
He closed his eyes.
"But the joker—"
"Has yet to appear."
His eyes opened, sharp.
"When the king and the joker step onto the board—"
"That's when the game begins."