The academy's training grounds buzzed with energy, the air thick with the scent of heated metal, burned mana, and the distant aroma of festival street food. Students who once treated combat as just another subject now trained with an intensity that bordered on desperation. With the Gladiatorial Tournament only days away, the stakes had never been higher.
The rhythmic clang of metal rang through the forge as Kalem worked, his hands steady as he adjusted the enchantments on his gauntlets. Sparks scattered with each precise hammer strike, the faint glow of magic embedding itself into the steel. Unlike before, when his creations were experiments, this time, every adjustment mattered.
Leaning against the doorway, Jhaeros observed in silence, his dire wolf companion lying beside him, its sharp golden eyes following Kalem's every movement.
"Are you sure you'll have enough time to finish?" Jhaeros finally asked.
Kalem didn't pause. "I'm not making a new weapon. Just fine-tuning the enchantments."
Jhaeros hummed. "That's fair. But don't forget—there's more to winning than just equipment."
Kalem set his hammer down and wiped the sweat from his brow. The enchantments embedded in the gauntlets shimmered faintly, their effects stabilizing. "I know. But this tournament isn't about survival like before. It's about proving our skills."
Nara cracked her knuckles. "Damn right. And I intend to leave a strong impression."
Lyra, sitting on a nearby workbench, tilted her head. "Even though your elemental control still lacks finesse?"
Nara's eye twitched. "Shut up."
Kalem smirked at their usual bickering before stretching. "Alright. I'm done here. We should get back before—"
Before he could finish, a loud commotion erupted outside the forge.
The four of them exchanged glances before stepping out onto the main street. A large crowd had gathered near the entrance of the academy, murmurs rippling through the air like a growing storm.
At the center of the disturbance stood a tall, imposing man, dressed in fine robes embroidered with gold thread, his presence commanding immediate attention. Flanking him were two heavily armored guards, their crested helmets marking them as high-ranking enforcers.
"Let me through," the man's voice carried across the courtyard, firm and absolute—the kind of voice that belonged to someone who was used to being obeyed.
The academy guards stood firm at the gate. "Without an invitation or academy credentials, we cannot allow entry."
The nobleman's lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze icy. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
Kalem, standing at the edge of the crowd, exhaled. "I take it back. I really hate this part of tournaments."
Nara crossed her arms. "Who's this guy?"
Jhaeros narrowed his eyes. "Judging by his attire and insignia… he's from the Western Alchemical Council."
Kalem's gaze flickered toward Lyra, whose expression had suddenly darkened.
"I'm guessing you know him," Kalem muttered.
Lyra's jaw tightened. "Unfortunately."
Kalem sighed. "Of course."
The nobleman took a slow, measured step forward, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. "I am Lord Mathias Evernwood, High Alchemist of the Western Alchemical Council. I do not require an invitation."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd at the name.
Nara whistled. "That Evernwood?"
Jhaeros nodded. "One of the leading alchemical scholars in the western regions."
Nara turned to Lyra. "So… he's your dad, huh?"
Lyra exhaled sharply. "Unfortunately."
Kalem arched an eyebrow. "Want us to help you avoid him?"
Lyra shook her head. "No point. He's already here."
Kalem studied her for a moment. Despite her usual confidence, there was a visible stiffness in her posture—something he had never seen before.
"She's right," Jhaeros said. "It would be suspicious if she suddenly disappeared."
Kalem clicked his tongue. "Great. So, what's the plan?"
Before Lyra could answer, Lord Evernwood's gaze locked onto her.
"Lyra."
The weight of the single word froze the air around them. The crowd instinctively parted as he strode forward.
"You have been ignoring my letters." His tone was unreadable, but there was an edge of displeasure in his voice.
Lyra met his gaze, her expression carefully neutral. "I've been busy."
Lord Evernwood's eyes flickered to her companions. "I see. Too busy to respond, but not too busy to waste time with… distractions."
Nara bristled. "Excuse me?"
Kalem sighed. "He means us."
Jhaeros leaned slightly toward Kalem. "I don't think he likes us."
Kalem smirked. "That's fine. I don't like him either."
Lord Evernwood exhaled through his nose, shifting his attention fully back to Lyra. "I am not here to debate your choices. I came because I wanted to see, firsthand, how you have been conducting yourself. And… I must say, I am concerned."
Lyra clenched her fists. "Concerned about what, exactly?"
Lord Evernwood's expression didn't change, but his eyes held a sharpness that cut through the space between them.
"Your reckless use of alchemy. Your refusal to uphold our family's legacy. And above all—" He glanced around at the gathered spectators. "Your lack of discipline."
A tense silence settled over the courtyard.
Kalem clicked his tongue. "That's rich. Coming from someone who just tried to barge into an academy uninvited."
Several students snickered at that.
Lord Evernwood's gaze snapped to Kalem, assessing him with the same disdainful precision one might give a cracked vial of failed potion. "And you must be the one enabling her behavior."
Kalem grinned. "I prefer the term supporting."
For a brief moment, the nobleman's composed demeanor slipped, his irritation evident. But before he could respond, the academy guards stepped in.
"My Lord," one of them said, "if you wish to attend the tournament, you must go through the official channels."
Lord Evernwood inhaled, regaining his composure. "Very well." He turned to Lyra one last time. "We will speak later."
And with that, he strode off, his guards following.
As the crowd dispersed, Lyra let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"That could have gone worse," Jhaeros noted.
Lyra rubbed her temples. "It's not over yet. He'll find a way in."
Kalem crossed his arms. "If he causes you problems, let us know."
Nara grinned. "Yeah. We'll make sure he regrets it."
Lyra gave a small, tired smile. "…Thanks."
Kalem stretched. "Anyway. Let's not get too distracted. We have a tournament to win."
The tension faded as they returned to their preparations, but the lingering presence of Lord Evernwood loomed over them like a storm on the horizon.