The following days at the academy were filled with whispers about the recent duel between Aslan and the noble boy. It wasn't just the students who were talking—faculty members too had begun to notice his skill. But one thing was clear: Aslan's name was now on everyone's lips, and not just because of his victory. Rumors spread quickly that the academy was hosting a grand swordsmanship competition, one where the best swordsmen would be recognized and rewarded.
And of course, that meant Aslan was now an inevitable topic of conversation.
---
The Invitation
It wasn't long before a messenger from the academy administration appeared at the dormitory, a scroll in hand.
"Is Aslan here?" the messenger asked, looking around.
Aslan, who had just walked in from his morning training, raised an eyebrow. "What's this about?"
The messenger handed him the scroll. Aslan broke the seal and unfurled the letter inside.
"Your invitation to the Swordsmanship Competition," the messenger said, bowing his head respectfully before leaving.
Aslan glanced at the letter, his eyes narrowing. The academy's crest adorned the top, and the words beneath it were simple but direct:
"You are invited to participate in the annual Swordsmanship Competition."
A note was scribbled below: "First-round duel winners will now take part in the Grand Swordsmanship Competition."
The competition was renowned throughout the academy, with both noble and commoner students participating. It was a chance to showcase one's skill, to rise above the rest, and for someone like Aslan, it was a challenge that he didn't feel he could refuse.
---
The Decision
"Are you going to join?" Alice asked as he leaned against the doorframe of Aslan's room, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Aslan tossed the invitation onto his bed and folded his arms. "Do I have a choice?"
Cael, who had been lingering by the window, turned around. "You've got no excuse, really. We all saw what you could do in that last fight. I think you'd make a great show of it."
Alice's eyes gleamed with mischief. "You know, this could be your chance to finally put those nobles in their place."
Aslan gave him a cold smile. "You think I care about those clowns?"
"I'm only entering this competition so I can lose in the first round and walk out on my own."
George, sitting at the desk, glanced over at Aslan. "It's not just about that. There's a lot more at stake in this competition than just pride. Top two winners get to make any wish in front of the King."
Aslan didn't respond.
Cael and Alice exchanged a look and nodded.
"I guess Aslan won't be entering," Alice said loudly. "He's probably scared."
"What do you mean?" George played along. "Didn't he say strong opponents are the real challenge? That there's no fun in beating the weak?"
Cael sighed dramatically. "Maybe he only can beat the weak ones."
Aslan clenched his jaw. "Just stop talking."
Alice grinned. "Then prove it. Beat them. Or are you saying someone weaker than you could beat you?"
"…Fine," Aslan snapped. "I will."
The trio exchanged a sneaky glance and smiled, satisfied. Their plan had worked.
In his mind, Aslan was thinking of the boy he'd defeated. This competition pushes my plan forward. The more they hate me, the better. Perfect.
---
The Competition Begins
The day of the competition arrived, and the academy grounds were filled with excitement. Spectators filled the stands, eager to see which of the students would prove their skill with a sword. There were dozens of participants—noble-born students, skilled commoners, and even a few outsiders. The atmosphere was tense, charged with energy as the first matches began.
Aslan stood at the edge of the arena, watching the competitors warm up. His mind remained focused, despite the noise and the taunts from some of the spectators who had heard about his reputation.
"Ready for this?" Cael asked, walking up beside him.
Aslan smirked. "I didn't come here for a warm-up."
---
The First Match
Finally, his turn arrived.
Aslan stepped into the center of the arena, facing his first opponent: a tall, well-muscled boy who looked confident, even cocky. The boy sneered at Aslan as the instructor called for the match to begin.
"Let's see what you've got, commoner."
Aslan's eyes hardened, his grip on his sword tightening.
The match began with a flurry of blows. Aslan's opponent swung wildly, each strike heavy and powerful. But Aslan wasn't fazed. He moved with grace and precision, parrying the boy's sword with ease. Each movement was calculated, his strikes swift and decisive.
The boy, unable to keep up with Aslan's fluid style, found himself slowly tiring. His swings became slower, his stance faltering.
In a matter of minutes, Aslan saw the opening. With a flick of his wrist, he disarmed the boy, sending his sword flying across the arena. The noble boy stumbled back, completely unbalanced, and Aslan gave him a final, gentle shove.
The boy fell backward, landing on the ground with a thud.
Aslan's eyes were cold, and his expression was unchanged as he turned and walked away. The crowd went silent, staring in disbelief at the scene before them. Even the instructor seemed momentarily stunned.
---
Whispers in the Crowd
As Aslan left the arena, the whispers began.
"Did you see that? He's… incredible."
"Is he really just a commoner?"
"I heard he took down a noble in one strike—do you think he can win this?"
"Impossible. He can't have beaten that boy so easily."
But Aslan wasn't listening. He knew that this was just the beginning. The competition would only get harder from here, but he was ready.