The first rays of dawn filtered into Kael's room, painting the walls with muted gold. He sat on the edge of his bed, the worn hilt of his longsword resting in his lap. Its steel blade glinted faintly in the dim light, a reminder of the challenge awaiting him.
Kael ran a hand over the weapon, his fingers tracing the faint nicks and scratches etched into its surface. His thoughts churned, doubt coiling in the pit of his stomach like a restless serpent.
Should I even fight?
The question was a whisper in his mind, tempting him to abandon the duel. He could forfeit, walk away, avoid the risk of failure and humiliation. But deep down, he knew the truth. This wasn't just about pride. The academy was his gateway to power, the foundation for something greater. To give up now would mean surrendering the faint hope that had driven him this far.
A soft knock at the door broke through his reverie.
"Kael?" came Helen's voice, warm yet tinged with worry.
He stood, setting the sword aside as the door creaked open. His mother stepped inside, her brown eyes scanning his face with a mixture of pride and fear.
"Are you ready?" she asked gently.
Kael nodded, though he said nothing.
Helen walked over, her footsteps soft against the wooden floor. She sat beside him on the bed, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"I know this isn't easy," she said, her voice steady but trembling at the edges. "But you've always been stronger than you think, Kael. You've faced more than most boys your age ever will."
He met her gaze, seeing the unshed tears glistening in her eyes. She was terrified, yet she stood firm for him, as she always had.
"I'll be fine, Mother," he assured her, his voice steady. "I promise."
Helen smiled faintly and squeezed his shoulder before standing. "I'll be watching," she said, turning to leave.
As the door closed behind her, Kael let out a shaky breath. He picked up his longsword, the weight of the metal grounding him.
"Time to end this," he muttered.
***
The training grounds of Everglade Manor had been transformed into a makeshift arena. A circular stone platform, slightly elevated from the ground, served as the battleground. Around it, rows of onlookers gathered—knights, trainees, and servants alike.
Kael stood at one end of the platform, his grip firm on his longsword. The weapon felt heavier than usual, a reflection of the weight on his mind.
Across from him stood Collins, a trainee shield knight. His armor gleamed in the morning light, and he held a heavy shield in one hand and a short sword in the other. The man's expression was calm, almost indifferent, as if he'd already determined the outcome.
From her seat among the spectators, Lady Elowen watched with a faint smirk. Her intent was clear—this duel was a lesson, one designed to remind Kael of his place.
Meanwhile, Helen stood at the edge of the crowd, her hands clenched tightly together. Her gaze never left Kael, worry etched into every line of her face.
Thorne, the head knight and referee, stepped onto the platform, raising a hand to silence the murmurs of the crowd.
"This is a duel of skill," he announced, his voice carrying across the grounds. "No fatal strikes. Begin!"
***
Kael launched forward, his longsword slashing through the air with deadly precision. He aimed for Collins's exposed flank, seeking to end the fight quickly.
Collins, however, was unflinching. He raised his shield, the clash of metal and wood echoing through the arena as he absorbed the blow. With practiced efficiency, he countered, thrusting his short sword toward Kael's side.
Kael twisted just in time, the blade grazing his ribs but failing to draw blood.
"You're fast," Collins remarked, his voice calm. "But speed alone won't win this."
Kael didn't reply. Instead, he adjusted his stance, circling his opponent like a predator. He struck again, his movements sharp and precise.
But Collins was a wall of defense. Every attack Kael launched met the unyielding resistance of the shield. The veteran knight's counters came quick and brutal, forcing Kael to retreat repeatedly.
Sweat dripped down Kael's face, his breathing labored. Blood seeped from a shallow cut on his shoulder where Collins's blade had struck earlier.
From the crowd, Helen gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
"Stay calm, Kael," she whispered, though her voice was lost in the din of the spectators.
***
Collins advanced, his short sword darting toward Kael's abdomen. The attack was swift, a testament to the knight's experience.
Kael's instincts screamed at him, and he barely managed to sidestep. The blade missed by inches but left a deep gash along his side.
Pain flared, sharp and hot. Kael staggered, his vision blurring for a moment.
"Kael!" Helen's cry cut through the tension, drawing murmurs from the crowd.
Kael gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright. He couldn't let her down.
Collins smirked, his confidence growing with every drop of blood Kael spilled. "You're predictable," he taunted. "Calm yourself, boy, or this will be over soon." he said, like a mentor to a student, even though they were the same age.
The words stung, but they also sparked something within Kael. His frustration burned away, replaced by a cold clarity. At this rate, he would lose. His thoughts flickered to his memories as an angel, wielding a sword wreathed in flames.
"If I can't beat him with strength alone..."
Kael closed his eyes for a brief moment, centering himself. He reached inward, calling upon the mana he had painstakingly cultivated during his meditations. Though invisible to the audience, he felt the weapon grow heavier in his hands, charged with unseen power.
"Miara," he murmured under his breath. "Let's try something new."
***
The sensation was immediate—a surge of energy that flowed through Kael's veins, igniting every nerve. He visualized the mana coating his sword, enhancing its weight and power.
Collins lunged again, his shield raised to block the incoming strike. But this time, Kael was ready.
He swung his longsword, the blade cutting through the air with unnatural force. When it collided with the shield, the impact was catastrophic.
The wooden shield splintered with a deafening crack, shards flying in all directions. The sheer force of the blow sent Collins stumbling backward, his arm numb from the impact. Luckily he was wearing a metal arm guard, or his hand would have been cut clean off.
The crowd erupted in gasps and murmurs, disbelief rippling through the spectators. Even Kael was momentarily stunned by the power he had unleashed.
Collins's shield arm hung limply at his side, the splintered remnants of the shield falling to the ground. His short sword wavered in his other hand, his confidence visibly shaken.
Kael advanced, his golden eyes gleaming with determination.
Before Collins could recover, Kael drove a powerful kick into his chest, sending the knight sprawling off the platform.
***
For a moment, there was silence. Then, the crowd exploded into cheers and applause.
"Winner: Kael!" Thorne declared, raising his hand.
Helen rushed forward, tears streaming down her face as she enveloped Kael in a fierce hug. "I was so scared," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But you did it."
Kael winced at the pressure on his injuries but managed a weak smile. "I told you I'd be fine."
Collins approached, his arm bandaged hastily by a healer. He extended a hand, his expression one of grudging respect.
"Good fight," he said simply. "You earned it."
Kael shook his hand, nodding in acknowledgment.
From her seat, Elowen watched, her smirk replaced by a tight frown. Her plan to humiliate Kael had failed, and the sight of his victory gnawed at her pride.
Thorne, however, stood apart from the celebration. His sharp eyes lingered on Kael, his mind racing.
"That boy isn't awakened," he muttered to himself. "So how...?"
As Kael limped off the platform, the crowd's cheers still ringing in his ears, Thorne's suspicion deepened. Whatever had just happened, it was only the beginning.