The academy did not feel the same anymore.
When Phael had first arrived, everything had seemed distant and unreal—the towering walls, the endless training grounds, the students who carried themselves like warriors instead of children. But after his first battle, after standing beside others instead of walking alone, the academy no longer felt like a place of learning. It felt like a battlefield that had simply learned how to hide its blood. Power was no longer something whispered about in rumors. It was visible in the way students walked, in the way conversations died when certain people passed, in the way eyes followed those who had already proven themselves. Strength was currency here. Weakness was a debt that would one day be collected.
Phael walked through the outer training courtyard with his group, his steps steady and his senses sharp. Ryn moved at the front as always, confident and loud, already acting like the leader he wanted to become. Soren stayed close behind, quiet but alert, his eyes always scanning weapons and fighters with the calm of someone who understood battle too well. Aeris walked beside Myra, speaking softly as if the noise of the academy might break her concentration. Darian drifted along the edge, present but never fully visible, as if the shadows themselves refused to let him be seen clearly. Rielle stayed close to Phael, her gaze moving constantly, watching the training fields, the sparring rings, the groups of students that gathered and separated like shifting tides.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Ryn said as they crossed the courtyard, his voice low but sharp.
"Feel what?" Aeris asked, though she already seemed uneasy.
"The eyes," he replied. "People are watching us."
Phael did not need to look to know it was true, but he did anyway. Everywhere he turned, there were glances—some open, some hidden behind false indifference. Some were curious. Some were impressed. But a few were cold, measuring, as if trying to decide how dangerous he was, or how useful. The academy was not just a place where students trained. It was a place where futures were chosen, alliances formed, and rivals marked.
Soren spoke quietly. "We did well in the evaluation. That makes us visible."
"And visibility attracts attention," Darian added from the side. "Good and bad."
Rielle glanced at Phael. "Are you worried?"
He shook his head slowly. "No. But I won't pretend this is nothing."
She studied his face for a moment, then nodded, as if understanding something he had not said out loud.
They were halfway across the courtyard when someone stepped directly into their path.
He was tall, dressed in a dark uniform lined with gold. The crest on his chest was unfamiliar to Phael, but the reactions of those around them told him everything. Conversations stopped. Students slowed. Some took a step back without realizing it. The boy's presence carried weight, not because of arrogance, but because of recognition.
Ryn frowned. "You're blocking the way."
The boy smiled faintly, eyes sharp and calculating. "Group Seventeen," he said. "I was hoping I would run into you."
Soren's gaze hardened slightly. "And you are?"
"Kael Draven," he replied. "Group Three."
The name rippled through the courtyard in whispers. Top-tier group. Clan heir. Level twenty-two. A rising star.
Kael's eyes moved from one member of the group to another before settling on Phael. "I heard you have two powers."
Phael met his gaze calmly. "Yes."
The boy's smile did not change, but something colder slipped into his eyes. "Interesting. You did well in your first evaluation. But the academy doesn't measure talent. It measures results."
"And?" Ryn asked.
"And I want to know if you're worth the attention you're getting."
The air tightened. Not with violence, but with intent. Darian's shadow stretched slightly beneath his feet. Aeris's grip on her staff tightened. Myra's gaze sharpened as if time itself had shifted around her.
Phael stepped forward.
"If you want something," he said, "say it."
Kael's eyes gleamed. "A challenge. One on one. No interference."
A hush spread through the courtyard. Early challenges were never casual. They were messages.
Rielle turned toward Phael, her voice low. "You don't have to."
He knew that. But he also knew that if he walked away now, this would not end. It would only change shape.
"I accept," he said.
The sparring ring was silent as the barrier rose around them, cutting off the noise of the courtyard. Students gathered at a distance, their voices reduced to whispers beyond the glowing field. Kael rolled his shoulders once, calm and confident.
"First to fall or surrender," he said. "No rules beyond that."
Phael nodded.
The signal flashed.
Kael moved first.
He was fast—faster than anyone Phael had faced so far. A long spear of condensed energy formed in his hand, the weapon humming with power as he thrust forward. The air split. The tip of the spear aimed directly for Phael's chest.
Phael stepped aside, his body moving before his mind, years of training guiding every motion. The spear sliced past him, close enough for him to feel the heat of its energy. Kael did not stop. He twisted, sweeping low in a follow-up attack meant to take Phael's legs.
Phael jumped.
As he landed, the Crimson Koi inside him surged.
Power flooded into his muscles, his bones, his breath.
At the same time, the Azure Koi responded.
Heat bloomed in his core.
Fire gathered in his right fist.
Not wild.
Not explosive.
Controlled.
Focused.
Phael stepped forward and drove his fist toward Kael.
Flames wrapped around his knuckles, spiraling tightly, the fire not burning outward but inward, condensed into power. Kael barely raised his spear in time. The strike collided with the shaft of the weapon, and the impact exploded in a burst of heat and force that sent Kael sliding backward across the stone.
Gasps echoed beyond the barrier.
Kael stared at him, surprise flickering across his face before hardening into something sharper. "So you can use magic too."
Phael did not answer.
Kael lunged again, his spear moving in rapid, precise arcs meant to overwhelm him. Phael did not chase. He did not rush. He watched, read the rhythm, felt the flow of each strike. When the spear came high, he blocked with his forearm reinforced by the Crimson Koi. When it came low, he pivoted. When Kael tried to press him with speed, Phael stepped inside the range instead of backing away.
Fire ignited again around his fists.
Not reckless.
Measured.
He struck.
Kael parried.
The clash sent shockwaves through the ring, stone cracking beneath their feet. Heat rolled outward as Phael followed with another punch, then another, each strike carrying both physical force and burning mana. Kael was forced back, his movements still sharp but now defensive, his spear working constantly to redirect blows that would have shattered bone.
Kael's expression changed.
The smile was gone.
Only focus remained.
Energy surged from his weapon as he pushed forward, forcing Phael to block with both arms. Pain flared. The impact rattled his body. For a moment, he was driven backward, boots scraping across the stone.
The Crimson Koi roared within him.
Strength answered.
Phael planted his foot, twisting his body with practiced precision. Fire condensed around his fist once more, hotter, denser. He stepped in, closing the distance, and struck.
The blow landed.
Not on the weapon.
On Kael.
The impact sent him flying across the ring. He slammed into the barrier, the energy field rippling violently, before collapsing to the ground.
Silence fell.
Kael did not rise.
The barrier faded.
The duel was over.
No cheers followed. Only whispers. Phael stood in the center of the ring, breathing steady, the fire around his hands fading back into nothing. Kael pushed himself up slowly, his expression unreadable, but there was no anger in his eyes—only cold understanding.
"I see," he said. "You really are different."
Phael met his gaze without speaking.
Kael turned away. "This isn't finished."
Then he walked out of the ring.
The courtyard slowly came back to life.
Ryn slapped Phael on the shoulder. "That was insane."
Soren gave a single nod. "Clean. Efficient."
Aeris exhaled shakily. "You mixed magic into your strikes… I've never seen someone do that so naturally."
Darian's eyes remained fixed on the path Kael had taken. "That wasn't just a duel. That was a declaration."
Myra looked at Phael, her gaze sharp. "You just crossed a line."
Rielle stepped closer to him. "Are you hurt?"
He shook his head. "No."
But inside, he understood what Myra meant.
This was no longer just training.
This was politics.
By evening, the academy had changed around them.
Whispers were no longer quiet.
"Group Seventeen beat Group Three."
"That boy… Phael… he fights with both magic and body."
"Two powers and that level of control…"
Some students looked at them with awe. Others with envy. And a few with careful calculation.
Ryn noticed it immediately. "We made enemies today."
Soren replied calmly, "We already had them."
Aeris looked uneasy. "Will they come after us?"
"They will test us," Darian said. "Again and again."
Rielle turned to Phael. "Do you regret it?"
He thought for a moment.
"No."
She studied his face, then nodded.
That night, Phael stood alone near the outer wall of the academy. The sky burned with fading light as the sun disappeared beyond the towers. The duel replayed in his mind—not the strikes, not the victory, but the look in Kael's eyes at the end. Not hatred.
Recognition.
This academy was not simply a school. It was a battlefield without blood, where lines were drawn with reputation and power, where those who rose too quickly were never ignored.
Behind him, soft footsteps approached.
Rielle stood beside him.
"You changed things today," she said quietly.
"I didn't mean to," he replied.
She looked toward the horizon. "None of us ever do."
They stood in silence, the wind moving between them.
"I'm glad you're on my team," she said after a moment.
"So am I," he answered.
Her smile was gentle. Not romantic. Not dramatic. Just real.
Far above, in a high tower, elders watched through glowing screens.
"One of them defeated Kael Draven," a voice said.
"Group Seventeen," another murmured. "Interesting."
"And the boy?" a third asked. "The one named Phael?"
Silence.
Then—
"Keep watching him."
The academy had taken notice.
And Phael had stepped onto a path that could no longer be avoided.