The academy's grand lecture hall was a towering cathedral of knowledge,Rows of students filled the ascending seats, their murmurs a constant undercurrent of gossip and speculation.
Arashi sat near the back, silent, unnoticed. A shadow in a room of roaring flames.
Which was fine. Better to watch than to be watched.
Still, the lecture hall was more extravagant than he expected.
Massive mana-infused chandeliers that probably cost more than some villages' annual budgets, enchanted glass windows depicting historical battles.
'Ah yes, nothing motivates learning like the overwhelming presence of dead warlords silently judging your existence. "Did you finish your homework? No? Well, I conquered seven nations before breakfast, you disappointment."'
The rustling of robes signaled the arrival of Professor Galen.
The man moved with an air of effortless authority, his deep crimson coat swaying as he ascended the central podium like he was walking into his own coronation.
Despite his thin frame and aging features that suggested he'd been teaching since the founding of the empire itself, there was no mistaking the raw power he commanded.
A seasoned mage. One who had carved his name into the empire's history.
Probably in ALL CAPS.
"Welcome, students," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the chamber without the slightest hint that he'd rehearsed this speech in front of his mirror for decades.
"Today, we begin with a lesson that is more important than any spell you will ever learn."
A pause. A flicker of amusement in his gaze, like a cat that's spotted a particularly amusing mouse.
"The law of power."
Silence. Every student hung on his words, some leaning forward so far they risked tumbling down the steps.
'Ah, the good old 'might makes right' speech. How refreshing. It's not like I haven't heard this a thousand times before. Maybe next he'll tell us water is wet and fire is hot.'
"In this world, magic reigns supreme. To command it is to command fate itself. To lack it…" he paused dramatically,
"is to be at the mercy of those who do." His eyes flicked—just for a moment—toward Arashi, subtle as a lightning strike in a clear sky.
The implication was clear enough for even the dimmest student to grasp.
A few students chuckled. Takeda Renji smirked, arms crossed, looking like he'd just heard the funniest joke in history.
'Wow. Subtle. Almost didn't notice that casual insult woven into a lecture. Almost.'
Professor Galen continued as if the interruption was beneath his notice.
"However, power without control is nothing more than chaos. And so, we begin with a simple exercise. You will each be paired with another student for a sparring match. A test of ability, instincts… and most importantly, understanding of your own strengths and weaknesses."
The excitement in the room was palpable. Whispers spread like wildfire.
If anticipation had a sound, the hall would have been deafening.
A fight. A chance to prove themselves. To show off. To peacock around like magical roosters.
Names were called. Students moved toward the open sparring arena at the center of the hall, some with confidence.
Others with nervous anticipation that made them look like they needed to visit the bathroom.
And then—
"Kurobane Arashi."
The hall quieted so suddenly it was as if someone had cast a silence spell over the entire room.
Arashi rose, his expression unreadable as a blank page.
His opponent was named next.
"Takeda Renji."
A wave of energy pulsed through the crowd – electric, almost tangible.
Laughter. Shock. Pity. A few students even made the ancient gesture to ward off misfortune, as if watching a man walk to his execution.
Takeda Renji stood, his smirk widening into a grin that barely concealed his hunger for blood.
If smugness had a physical form, it would be wearing his face.
"A fitting match," he said, stepping into the arena with a leisurely gait that screamed 'predator.' "A lion and a lamb."
Arashi followed, his steps measured, betraying nothing.
'Fantastic. My first day, and I'm already being used as an educational sacrifice. Couldn't even wait until the second day. I should feel honored, really.'
He felt no fear. Only calculation.
'They expect a massacre.'
That was fine.
They had no idea how much blood a lamb could spill when cornered.
The silence in the Grand Lecture Hall was suffocating, thick enough to cut with a knife – though no one dared move to do so.
Hundreds of students watched in eerie stillness, their expectations shattered like a priceless vase thrown from the academy's highest tower.
What was supposed to be a one-sided humiliation had twisted into something they couldn't explain if their lives depended on it.
Renji, the prodigy of House Takeda, stood frozen, looking like someone had just told him his entire family fortune was actually made selling novelty egg whisks.
His wrist tingled from where Arashi had gripped it—not tightly, not painfully—but with a control that made his skin crawl.
He had never felt something like this before.
A duel between nobles was a clash of power. Magic. Strength. Dominance. Flashy spells and dramatic posturing.
And yet, this…
This thing standing before him had taken neither stance nor spell. Arashi had not fought. He had waited.
And that was far, far worse than any magical assault.
Renji's fingers twitched, his breathing slow but uneven, like a man trying desperately to convince himself he wasn't drowning.
'I won't let this stand.'
A fresh surge of mana ignited around him, crackling like a storm contained within flesh.
The stone platform groaned beneath his feet as heat radiated outward, his aura growing wilder, heavier, the magical equivalent of a temper tantrum.
Then, without a word—he attacked.
This time, there was no calculation. No precision.
Just raw instinct and speed.
A blur of motion. A torrential storm of blows.
And yet—
The result was the same.
A shift. A whisper of movement.
Miss.
A feint. A change in tempo.
Miss.
A sudden burst of flame, engulfing the space between them, hot enough to melt stone.
Nothing.
Each strike—every single one—landed on empty air, as if Arashi had signed a contract with reality itself to always be elsewhere.
Renji's vision blurred, his heartbeat hammering in his skull like a blacksmith gone mad.
It didn't make sense. It defied everything he'd ever learned about combat.
Arashi wasn't dodging the way people should.
There was no desperation. No panicked retreat.
Just inevitability.
As if his movements were already set in stone.
As if the outcome had already been decided before Renji had even stepped forward.
Then—
Renji overextended.
A single misstep. Small. Inconsequential.
But against this, it was fatal as stepping off a cliff.
Arashi moved.
Not backward. Not away.
Forward.
Into Renji's space.
Close enough that he could hear the sharp intake of his opponent's breath, could practically taste the fear suddenly blossoming there.
And then—
A single, deliberate tap against Renji's chest.
Barely a touch. As gentle as a butterfly landing on a flower.
And yet—
The moment it landed, everything unraveled faster than a poorly knitted sweater caught on a nail.
Renji staggered backward, his balance breaking, his composure shattering like thin ice beneath a boulder.
It wasn't an attack.
But it was enough.
Enough to tell everyone watching.
Enough to make the entire hall realize.
This duel had never been a fight.
It had been a lesson.
A lesson no one understood.
Not yet.
Renji's mind screamed at him to recover, to strike back, to not let this end like this—to not become the academy's newest cautionary tale—
But Professor Galen's voice cut through the tension like a blade through warm butter.
"Enough."
His tone was final.
Unquestionable.
Like death and taxes.
Renji clenched his fists, but the moment had already passed.
His fury—his pride—meant nothing now. Both were as useful as a paper umbrella in a hurricane.
Arashi simply lowered his hand and stepped back.
Silent. Calm.
Untouched.
For the first time since the duel started, Renji finally looked at him.
Not as a weakling.
Not as a joke.
But as something else.
Something he couldn't define.
Something that made his instincts scream 'danger' louder than they ever had before.
Galen turned to the audience. "Kurobane Arashi is the victor."
A wave of unease passed through the crowd, rippling like a stone thrown into a still pond.
Not a cheer.
Not a celebration.
Just… realization.
A realization that felt like the air itself had grown colder, like winter had decided to make an impromptu visit.
Arashi did not smile. He did not bow.
He simply turned, walking away from the platform as if nothing had happened.
As if this hadn't mattered at all.
As if he hadn't just turned the academy's hierarchy on its head in less time than it takes to boil water.
But as he reached the stairs, he paused for just a moment—just long enough for Renji alone to hear.
"I wouldn't call a lion a lion if it lets the ant crawl onto its paw so easily."
Then, he left.
Renji did not move.
Because for the first time in his life—
He felt small.
Smaller than the ants he'd compared Arashi to.
The rest of the class proceeded, but the energy was wrong, like a song played in the wrong key.
The lesson continued, but no one was really listening.
Their minds were too busy replaying the impossible scene they'd just witnessed, trying to find the trick, the trap, the explanation.
Arashi sat in the back once again, watching, waiting.
The eyes that had once mocked him now avoided him. Conflicted. Uncertain. Like children who'd just discovered their imaginary monster was real.
'That was amusing.'
He wasn't arrogant about it. Victory didn't matter.
This entire academy, these noble fools, the endless games of status and power—they didn't matter.
But the way they reacted…?
The way Renji looked at him…?
Now that was valuable.
A shift had begun.
A moment had passed.
And in time—
That moment would consume them all.
Like a tiny spark in a dry forest, destined to become an inferno.