[Street corner]
The men lunged at Al, their blades flashing in the sunlight, but he moved with effortless precision. With a single step back, he avoided the first strike, then sidestepped another, his movements fluid and calculated. Before they could react, Al countered with swift, well-placed blows one to the gut, another to the jaw sending them stumbling backward.
Within seconds, all four men were either groaning on the ground or too dazed to continue. A murmur spread through the crowd as onlookers began gathering, drawn by the sudden commotion. Whispers filled the air, and more people turned their attention towards the scene.
Not wanting to attract anymore attention Al quickly grabbed the girl.
"Let's go."
He spoke with a soft voice, without waiting for her reply, he hold her tight and flew far into the sky as the people watch from the ground...
[Fiñchtê Academy, Training Ground]
"Fireball!"
Rodrick's voice boomed across the training grounds as a blazing sphere of fire shot from his palm. The spell struck the wooden training dummy with a deafening blast, engulfing it in flames. Within seconds, nothing remained but a smoldering pile of ash. The air around him shimmered with heat, and a few stray embers floated to the ground.
Lowering his hand, Rodrick exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off some invisible weight. His lips curled into a small, satisfied smirk, but his mind was elsewhere.
Rodrick Kylion wasn't just another student at Finchte Academy he was one of its top mages, a prodigy born into one of the most powerful wizarding families in the land. Strength, skill, reputation he had them all. Yet none of that mattered in the face of one lingering thought, one name that made his blood boil.
Earlin (Al's other name).
His fingers clenched at his side, nails digging into his palm. It wasn't just a rivalry. It wasn't just resentment. It was deep, unrelenting hatred.
Rodrick's eyes flickered with something dangerous as he turned back toward the field, already preparing another spell.
One day, he would make Earlin pay. And when that day came, he would make sure there was nothing left just like the ashes at his feet.
A boy came sprinting across the training grounds, his breath ragged and uneven. He skidded to a stop in front of Rodrick, clutching his knees as he gasped for air.
"My… Lord…"
He wheezed, struggling to get the words out.
"He's… here…"
Rodrick arched an eyebrow, his interest piqued.
"Who's here?
He asked, though deep down, he already had a feeling he knew the answer.
The boy swallowed hard before finally blurting it out.
"Earlin… Earlin is back!"
For a moment, there was silence. Then, slowly, a wicked grin spread across Rodrick's face. He turned back toward the scorched remains of the training dummy, rolling his shoulders as a surge of excitement coursed through him.
"Well, well…"
He murmured, his voice laced with anticipation.
"I guess today's my lucky day."
His smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with something dark and dangerous.
"Too bad for you, Earlin… it's about to be your worst."