Chapter 15 – Echoes of Victory
The dueling arena thundered with energy—both from the crowd and the elemental forces crackling across the field.
The final day of the first-year tournaments had arrived.
Instructor Harn stood at the judges' platform beside two other faculty members. His gaze swept over the three class arenas—A, B, and C—where the top students clashed one last time for rankings that would shape their path forward.
He watched the skies, absently. The wind had shifted again.
But his attention returned sharply as the horn sounded across Arena C.
Joran stepped into the ring.
Opposite him stood Cera Henn, feet braced apart, hands dusted with dry soil, her brown hair tied in tight coils. The ground beneath her stirred faintly—waiting.
"Final match for Class C rankings," called the announcer. "Barrier-type Initiate versus Earth Element Disciple! Begin!"
Joran moved first.
No barrier. No shield. Just a quick dash.
Cera slammed her palms into the arena floor—earth ruptured upward like jagged spears.
But Joran leapt. A thin curved wall of shimmering light erupted beneath his feet mid-air. He bounced off it like a springboard—another barrier curved around his fist mid-strike.
He punched the barrier into her shoulder.
The impact sent Cera stumbling.
Gasps followed. She recovered fast, summoning a wave of stone to bind him, but Joran spun, summoned a disc behind him, and deflected it sideways—using barriers as motion and redirection, not just defense.
Cera's earth began to falter. Joran pressed in. A third strike sent her backward—and his final move, a prism-shaped barrier surrounding her entirely, locked her down.
The match ended.
Class C had its second-place student.
Across the main arena, Kael watched quietly, arms folded. He stood on the losers' end of the rankings, near a few classmates murmuring about results.
No one said his name.
Not in praise. Not in anger. Just… nothing.
That suited him fine.
He hadn't shown wind. Hadn't used lightning. Even Hydrothread—his core water technique—he'd only used once, disguised as basic footwork. His match had ended early. The instructor called it "lack of aggression."
Kael hadn't argued.
But Joran saw through him. The glance Joran gave after his victory was brief—but filled with something harder than pride.
Disappointment.
Next came Bren vs. Karn.
Bren was a brawler—thick arms, stone-reinforced skin from his partial affinity to earth. His strikes cracked walls.
But Karn Veylan didn't bother standing still.
His eyes glowed red-orange. Firelight flickered across his skin, feathers igniting at his shoulders. Wings of flame erupted behind him as he took to the air.
"Is that… a beast form?" someone gasped.
"Flaming Eagle…" another whispered.
Bren charged—but Karn dove like a comet.
It took less than a minute.
A burst of wing-fire erupted on impact. Bren was thrown across the ring, body steaming. Not critically injured—but out cold.
Class C's first place was decided.
Over in Arena A, things were less… visible.
Zero Black stood still.
His opponent—a known twin caster of wind and light—never touched him. Not once.
The match began. One flash of movement.
The caster collapsed.
The arena was silent. No elemental trace remained.
Instructor Vessra raised one brow, but said nothing. The System confirmed victory.
Rumors spread fast.
"He's using curse magic."
"That's forbidden, right?"
"Why doesn't anyone see how he wins?"
But Zero Black didn't care. He stepped off the arena floor like a shadow never meant to be seen.
From a balcony, Principal Mavren Duskfall watched quietly.
Three names now sat atop the first-year ranks.
• Zero Black – Class A
• Isabel Quinn – Class B
• Karn Veylan – Class C
And just beneath them, rising slowly: Joran.
Later, as the sun dipped low, the rankings were posted on glowing boards in the central plaza.
Students crowded around, whispering, shouting, groaning. One by one, names flickered.
Kael walked past them, barely glancing.
His name sat near the bottom of Class C.
"Kael!" a voice called.
He turned.
Karn stood nearby, still in his scorched dueling robes, a cocky grin plastered on his face. His flame-born feathers had dimmed—but his ego hadn't.
"Well, well. The great mystery boy couldn't even crack the top ten."
Kael gave him a blank look. "You want something?"
"Oh, I've already got what I wanted," Karn said, stepping closer. "Top of the class. Victory. And the satisfying knowledge that you—whatever you are—still couldn't lift yourself out of the mud."
Kael said nothing.
Karn leaned in slightly. "Or maybe you're just scared. Hiding something. Afraid of what would happen if you actually let loose."
Kael's eyes narrowed, but his expression stayed unreadable. "Keep talking. One day you'll say something interesting."
Karn smirked wider. "Maybe. But by then, I'll be so far ahead, you'll just be a whisper on the wind."
He turned and walked off, flames still licking at his boots for show.
Kael let the silence sit.
He didn't rise to it.
Didn't need to.
The wind stirred slightly behind him, curling around his shoulders like breathless tension.
That night, alone beneath the sky, Kael sat in the courtyard again. Breathing.
Not listening for wind this time.
Listening for judgment.
It never came.
Only silence.
But far above, in the observatory dome, the Tower's sigil pulsed again.
Candidate Whirl: Observation Tier – not yet Confirmed.
And in the shadows behind the observatory's glass—
Zero Black watched.
Not as an enemy.
Not as an ally.
But as someone who had seen power before… and was now curious what Kael truly was.