The training grounds of Archon Academy were alive with the hum of anticipation. Students, eager and nervous, stood around the various practice arenas, their chatter filling the air. It was the second day of classes, and today's focus was combat duels—a test not only of skill but also of composure and strategy.
I positioned myself at the back of the gathered crowd, leaning casually against a stone pillar. From here, I had an unobstructed view of the practice field. The grounds were vast, divided into multiple smaller arenas, each surrounded by stone barriers designed to contain stray attacks. Beyond the arenas, lush greenery stretched into the distance, a stark contrast to the intense energy brewing among the students.
The uniformity of our academy attire—a crisp white shirt, black trousers, and a navy jacket adorned with the academy's crest—blurred the lines between noble and commoner. Yet, if one observed carefully, the differences were evident. Nobles carried themselves with an air of confidence, their movements fluid and their gazes sharp. Commoners, while diligent and determined, often betrayed their unease in the subtle tension of their shoulders or the hesitance in their steps.
The teacher for this class, Captain Elira Stormcrown, was a figure who demanded respect. Her sharp, hawk-like eyes scanned the crowd as if she could see through every student. The scar on her cheek and her commanding presence told a story of countless battles fought and won. She spoke with the authority of someone who had led armies, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
"The first duels will be between the weaker students," she announced, her tone brooking no argument. "But don't mistake this as an excuse to slack off. Every duel here is a lesson—not just for the fighters but for everyone watching. Pay attention."
The first few matches were unremarkable. Students displayed basic forms and techniques, often clumsy in their execution. Some wielded wooden practice swords with trembling hands, while others showed flashes of potential. I observed in silence, mentally cataloging their strengths and weaknesses.
And then came the match everyone had been waiting for.
"Elira Stormcrown, calling next duel: Leon Valcrest versus Darius Eryndor."
A ripple of excitement surged through the crowd. All eyes turned to the two figures stepping forward.
Leon Valcrest, the protagonist of this world's story, moved with a quiet confidence. His lean frame and calm expression masked the intensity that lay beneath. His brown hair fell lightly over his forehead, and his sharp hazel eyes scanned his opponent with a focus that seemed unshakable.
Opposite him stood Darius Eryndor, a noble of formidable lineage. The son of the Duke renowned for his unparalleled swordsmanship, Darius was a prodigy in his own right. His blond hair, tied neatly at the nape of his neck, shone in the sunlight, and his piercing blue eyes burned with determination. His stance was aggressive, his grip on the wooden sword firm and unyielding.
The air grew heavy as the two opponents faced each other. Captain Elira's voice rang out like a bell. "Begin!"
Darius was the first to move, closing the distance between them with a burst of speed. His sword swung in a wide arc, aiming to overpower Leon with sheer force. Leon, however, was ready. He stepped to the side, his movements precise and economical, and deflected the blow with ease.
The clash of wooden swords echoed across the grounds.
Darius attacked again, this time with a flurry of strikes that showcased his training. Each swing was calculated, his blade moving like a predator closing in on its prey. Leon, however, was a master of observation. He didn't just block—he studied. Every attack, every feint, every shift in Darius's stance was a puzzle piece he quietly fit together.
For the first few moments, it seemed as though Darius had the upper hand. His strikes were relentless, forcing Leon to retreat step by step. The crowd murmured, some already predicting the match's outcome.
But then, Leon shifted gears.
In a split second, he went from defending to counterattacking. His blade moved with a speed that caught even Darius off guard. He parried a downward strike and stepped inside Darius's guard, aiming a quick jab toward his chest. Darius barely managed to block, his eyes widening in surprise.
The momentum of the duel shifted.
Leon began to dictate the pace, his movements fluid and unpredictable. He didn't attack blindly; every strike was aimed at exposing a flaw in Darius's defense. Darius, now on the back foot, gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts.
The clash of swords intensified, each strike resonating with the weight of their skill. Darius attempted a powerful overhead slash, channeling his frustration into brute strength. Leon sidestepped, his blade flashing upward to meet Darius's with a loud crack.
It was a battle of contrasts. Darius fought with the precision and power of a seasoned swordsman, his techniques honed through years of noble training. Leon, on the other hand, fought with adaptability and intuition, his movements unpredictable and his mind always a step ahead.
As the duel wore on, it became clear who had the upper hand.
Leon executed a feint that drew Darius into overextending. In that brief moment, Leon struck with precision, disarming Darius with a sharp upward flick of his blade. Darius's wooden sword flew from his grip, landing several feet away.
The arena fell silent.
Leon stood tall, his practice sword pointed at Darius's chest. His calm expression hadn't wavered, but there was a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.
Captain Elira broke the silence with a clap. "An excellent duel. Both of you displayed remarkable skill." She turned to address the crowd. "This is what you should strive for—a balance of strength, strategy, and control."
Darius retrieved his sword, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. As he walked away, I could see the fire in his eyes. This loss would drive him, fuel his ambition, and perhaps lead him down a darker path.
Leon returned to the sidelines, his demeanor as calm as ever. He didn't bask in the applause or the admiration of his peers. He simply stood, his focus already elsewhere.
As I watched from my position, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity. Leon's journey was unfolding just as it had in the novel, but the presence of Darius and their brewing rivalry was a reminder of how fragile the balance of this world could be.
The duels continued, but none matched the intensity of what we had just witnessed. Captain Elira's sharp voice brought me out of my thoughts.
"Noah Grey versus Lyra Aetherial!"
I straightened, stepping forward as my name was called.
The crowd's murmurs shifted toward me and my opponent, but for now, my attention was on the arena ahead. The match that lay before me would be my own test.