Chapter 6 – Ashes and Embers
The Academy's dueling grounds were abuzz with tension. This wasn't just another day of training. This was the first evaluation—a ranked, public performance judged by instructors and attended by elite scouts, nobles, and high-ranking faculty.
Failure didn't mean expulsion. But it meant being branded mediocre.
And mediocrity at Arcanum meant fading into irrelevance.
Kael stood near the back of the line, arms folded, eyes watching.
Juno stood beside him, already sweating. "Why do the judges look like executioners?"
"Because they probably are," Kael muttered.
Juno groaned. "We're all gonna die."
A student ahead of them launched a brilliant firestorm spell—grand, powerful, full of showmanship.
Kael didn't flinch. He was too busy calculating.
Spell layers. Reaction time. Distance covered. Weak spots.
"Next up," barked Instructor Verdan, "Kael Varis."
The crowd shifted.
A few chuckled.
Someone from the noble sector muttered, "The Blink Boy."
Kael stepped into the circle.
He faced off against a summoned golem—standard for low-tier evaluations. Big, slow, heavy. Most would blow it up in a single spell.
But Kael had no explosive spells. Just Blink.
He exhaled.
Begin.
The golem surged forward.
Kael stood still. Waited.
At the last second—
Blink.
3 meters behind the golem.
One second recovery—ducked low.
The golem twisted, stone arm slamming downward.
Blink again.
Left this time.
He kept moving—three, four, five teleports in sequence. Never attacking. Just analyzing.
The crowd murmured in confusion.
"Is he running away?"
"He can't even fight—"
But the instructors were watching closer.
Kael suddenly slid beneath the golem's legs—planting a small arcane marker on its back.
He Blinked again—then raised his hand.
Trigger.
The marker pulsed. A magnetic field ignited. The golem's own weight twisted against its momentum—its leg locking, throwing it off balance.
Kael had created a weakness in its gait—then used the terrain slope to make it collapse.
Crash.
The golem fell face-first. Unmoving.
Silence.
No massive spell. No glowing magic circle. Just strategy, precision, and timing.
Then came quiet applause.
From the judges' booth, a calm voice said, "Pass. With merit."
Back at the sidelines, Lyra stared, wide-eyed. "He didn't even attack it…"
Elith, nearby, murmured, "He didn't have to."
Juno whooped. "I trained with that guy! I taught him everything he knows!"
Kael walked back, sweat running down his neck—but his eyes were sharp.
Later that night.
In the noble dorm tower, Princess Selene gripped the balcony rail.
She had seen his match.
She wasn't sure why it bothered her. Why her chest felt tight.
Was it irritation? Was it because no one expected anything from him, and yet he kept rising?
Or maybe—
"Why am I even thinking about this?" she muttered, turning from the window.
That same night.
Kael sat alone in the training yard, drawing diagrams in the dirt by moonlight.
He sketched out teleport lines, cooldown timestamps, positions of enemies.
Lyra approached quietly, holding two mugs of hot tea.
"Hey," she said. "You looked like you needed this."
Kael took one, grateful. "Thanks."
"You were amazing today."
"I was just… surviving."
"Maybe," Lyra said, sitting beside him, "but you made it look like you were dancing. You're not like the others, Kael. You're going to change things."
Kael stared at the dirt.
"Then I need to change myself first."