The duel field had finally emptied, the chaotic energy dissipating as the crowd wore on. All that remained was the faint scent of smoke and the eerie silence that followed such a fierce battle.
A man dressed in a black robe appeared near the bloodstained ground where Alexander had fallen. A strange smile crept across his face as he knelt beside the pool of blood, his fingers tracing the remnants of the magic that still lingered there. Kneeling down, He reached into his robe and pulled out a small container, muttering a spell under his breath. Slowly, the blood began to lift from the ground, separating from the dirt in thin, almost imperceptible strands.
The strands twisted and coiled through the air, forming thin, red lines before flowing into the small glass container, leaving the ground clean as though no battle had taken place.
Once the blood was gathered, the man smiled—a dark, satisfied smile—before tucking the container into his robes and disappearing into the shadows.
....
In the student union office, the duel master stood before a group of academy officials, his face stern as he relayed the events of the duel. The atmosphere in the room was tense, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on everyone present. An incident like this hasn't occurred at the college in 20 years.
"Alexander killed Roderick," the duel master said, his voice steady, "is forbidden within the academy's laws. He must be brought to trial."
The officials murmured among themselves, their faces grim. Taking lives was a serious offense, and though Alexander had emerged victorious in the duel, the implications of his actions could not be ignored.
"We will call for an immediate trial," one of the officials said, his tone resolute. "Alexander must answer for his actions. Whether he was forced or not, it is a transgression we cannot overlook."
The rest all nodded,their expression unreadable.
....
The dimly lit secret room of House Ignis was filled with the bubbling sound of boiling solutions. The room had an eerie quality to it, illuminated only by the soft glow of the burning flames under the glass containers filled with liquids. Lucian Draven stood calmly at the test bench, adjusting a test tube filled with a dark, viscous substance.
On the nearby shelves, worn demon horn was neatly arranged, its tips chipped and worn from use. Several small vials sat on the bench beside Lucian, filled with a swirling dark liquid, pulsing faintly as if alive. Behind him, the shadows along the walls flickered and began to ripple like disturbed water. A moment later, a figure emerged from the darkness, stepping out as though it had been part of the room all along.
"Mithar," Lucian said, without turning around, his voice calm and cold. "How is it?
The figure, cloaked in dark smoke, stood motionless. A horn, gray and twisted, protruded from her forehead, and her deep purple eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. If Lira had been present in, her sharp eyes would have instantly recognized the entity before him for what it truly was—a shadow demon. This ancient race, long believed to have faded from the world, possessed an uncanny ability to meld seamlessly into the shadows. In anything less than the strongest light, their forms were nearly invisible, manifesting only as vague, distorted human outlines.
In the dark history of the continent, the demons had once ruled these lands, absolute in their power. As mankind advanced, expanding their influence and developing magic that could rival the old powers, demons like the shadow race gradually withdrew from the stage of history, their numbers dwindling into obscurity. Liliana Nox was just a return of blood, but Lucian had a pure-blood demon follower, which shows how deep he is hidden.
"As you wished, Alexander has killed Roderick," Mithar replied, her voice hollow and emotionless, like a whisper carried on the wind. "The potion worked. It increased Roderick's physical fitness, but the side effects were severe. The magic in his body ran wild, and he lost control."
"During the battle, I also observed that Alexander used black fire." Mithar added.
Lucian's hand stilled, and he looked up sharply. "Black fire?" A slow, calculating smile spread across his face, Lucian mused aloud. "Alexander... as long as I get my hands on you, the final piece of my puzzle will fall into place."
"Cancel the action on Elara's side," Lucian commanded. "Re-formulate our plan to focus on Alexander."
"Understood," Mithar bowed her head slightly and replied.
Just then, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway outside the lab. Mithar immediately melted back into the shadows, disappearing as though she had never been there. The door to the lab creaked open, and a young boy burst into the room, his face pale and his eyes red-rimmed with grief.
"Master, Roderick... Roderick is dead!" the boy cried out, his voice thick with emotion. "His sister… she's still in the hospital! How could this happen?"
Lucian did not turn to face the boy. Instead, he continued working on the test tubes, his movements slow and deliberate. "I know," he said coolly, his voice devoid of emotion. "I will handle it. Now leave."
The boy hesitated, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "But... Master..."
Lucian turned his head slightly, his eyes cold and piercing. "Did you not hear me? Leave."
The boy's eyes widened in fear, and he swallowed hard, nodding quickly before retreating from the room without another word. The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving Lucian alone once more. Outside, another boy was waiting anxiously—Hawke, the same young man who had attacked Alexander during the Legacy of Fire. His expression was tense, his jaw clenched.
"What did he say?" Hawke asked urgently.
"He said he'd handle it," Raven replied, his voice laced with disappointment and frustration.
Hawke's anger flared, and he slammed his fist into the wall beside him. "This isn't enough! Alexander must pay for this! We can't just let this go."
"We'll take care of it ourselves," Raven muttered. The two boys exchanged a glance, nodded silently, then they turned and left the hallway together.
In the dean's office of House Noctis, Mistress Seraphine sat languidly in a plush chair, her fiery red dress contrasting sharply with the deep shadows of the room. Her exposed skin glowed with a soft, pale radiance, her neckline plunging to reveal a teasing hint of snow-white skin. She fiddled with her fingers, blowing gently on her perfectly manicured nails, her mind wandering.
"Mistress Seraphine, Alexander killed Roderick in the duel." Before her, Cedric stood with his head bowed, his voice low and serious. "The academy's top officials are already taking notice. Lira has taken Alexander away, but the student union won't let this slide."
Mistress Seraphine barely reacted to the news, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Lira did well," she said lightly. "Alexander holds too many secrets."
"As for the student union and those old fossils, "Mistress Seraphine waved a hand dismissively. "They've been in power for far too long, and they know better than to challenge me directly."
Mistress Seraphine paused for a moment, then sat up slightly. "Give Lira three more red crystals. Alexander will need them to recover as quickly as possible."
"Understood, Mistress," Cedric replied, bowing again before turning to leave the room.
Seraphine leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting toward the window. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the academy grounds.