Foreign titles held no authority within the academy.
Ever since he began teaching at the Academy, the professor had listened to first-years bicker about family names all day. He never bothered to stop them—words alone wouldn't change their perspective in this matter.
In his experience, only firsthand encounters with true power and weakness ever did.
As an independently established institution and neutral territory, the Mystian Academy values Mystical Arts prowess above all else, stripping away the influence of lineage, political authority, and wealth.
Personal biases couldn't override this.
But while other professors might've secretly been swayed by the grandeur of a name, especially for those of the same motherland, this professor was not.
Still, the academy rules for duels were clear.
The professor wanted to put an end to this nonsense but knew he had to comply.
The academy allowed for unofficial duels, provided a professor was present to oversee them.
Normally, such challenges weren't issued until after students had settled into their routines—especially after the Staff Succession Ceremony, where students resonated with their staffs to amplify their arts.
It was a ritual that gave them time to gauge each other's strengths and weaknesses.
A duel before that day? It was unheard of.
With a wave of his hand, he gestured toward the training grounds. "Very well. But let this be quick."
Drawing an ever-growing crowd of students, the group moved to the training grounds.
The announcement of the duel spread like wildfire through the freshmen dormitories, spilling over into the surrounding edifices.
Whispers turned into excited chatter as groups of students hurried to find a vantage point in the area, their curiosity sparked by the audacity of a duel just a day before the Welcome Ceremony.
By the time they reached the location, the space was packed with onlookers, their expressions a mix of curiosity, excitement, and skepticism.
Austin stood at the center, his hands casually resting at his sides. His calm demeanor was a contrast to Aidan's fiery arrogance.
The latter stood with his hand in a readying position, his self-assured grin daring anyone to doubt him.
"Ready to see your legacy crumble, Saintling?" Aidan taunted, raising his voice so the crowd could hear.
The insult hung in the air, drawing murmurs from the crowd.
Aidan's jab was calculated—an attempt to undermine Austin's composure.
Austin responded without words. His movements were slow and utterly indifferent as he raised a hand, signaling a 'wait.'
The crowd stilled, watching as he turned, walked to the edge of the grounds, and bent down to pick up something from the ground.
Aidan blinked in disbelief, then threw his head back with a laugh.
The crowd followed, their laughter rippling through the air.
"Is this your idea of a weapon, Saintling?" Aidan mocked, his grin widening. "What's next? A fist? You're making this far too easy."
The crowd erupted in jeers, but Austin remained unfazed.
He twirled the stick lightly in his hand, testing its weight with the same composure one might show in selecting a fine blade.
His silence was maddening, making Aidan's smirk falter for a fraction of a second before returning with renewed confidence.
"Let's put an end to this farce," Aidan growled, spreading his hands outward as he began to channel his mana.
Austin didn't respond to Aidan's taunts. His sharp eyes flicked toward the professor, waiting for the signal to begin.
Professor Beaumont raised his hand high, his voice calm yet authoritative. "This duel will end when one participant is incapacitated or yields. Begin!"
The crowd collectively leaned in, the anticipation in the air thick enough to taste.
Aidan didn't waste a moment.
With a dramatic flourish, he extended his palm, channeling raw mana directly without the aid of a staff—a feat that left many onlookers in stunned silence.
"Ignis Rex, audi meam vocem. Adversarium consume, Sphaera Ignis!"
The famous encantation reverberated through the training grounds, his mana flaring.
Fire erupted at his fingertips, coalescing into a blazing orb that hovered above his hand, crackling with intensity.
A gasp rippled through the crowd. "Did he cast without a staff?" one student whispered, awe thick in their voice.
"What do you expect? Their Staff Succession is tomorrow."
"That's impossible for most people—it requires complete control over mana flow," another murmured.
"Not for a Fire Elementalist," someone else chimed in. "They're revered as prodigies—kings among Mystians."
"His future's limitless!"
Admiration for Aidan swelled like a tide.
In contrast, Austin stood silently, gripping a simple stick he had casually picked up earlier.
The jeers came quickly.
"Is he serious? A stick?!"
"What is he going to do, poke the fire away?"
"The winner is already obvious."
Aidan's smirk widened at the mockery, his confidence swelling.
With a bellow, he hurled the blazing orb straight at Austin.
"Let's see how your big stick handle my heat!"
A soft laugh broke the tension of the crowd, quickly hushed by another serious onlooker.
The fireball roared through the air, a swirling mass of heat and light, as students held their breath in anticipation of impact.
Austin moved—not panicked, not rushed. A simple sidestep.
The fireball crashed into the ground behind him, leaving a scorched crater, its embers fading.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"He dodged?"
"Impossible. That attack was too fast!"
Aidan's grin faltered, the cheers in his head replaced by the sound of whispers.
He snarled, raising his palm again.
"Ignis Pluviam! Ex adversario nullum exitum relinque, Pluvia Ignis!"
A barrage of smaller firebolts materialized in the air, hovering like deadly wasps. With a sharp motion, Aidan sent them flying, their paths erratic and unpredictable.
This time, Austin didn't merely dodge. He blurred into motion, his body weaving between the streaking flames with ease and mesmerizing movement of a leaf dancing in the wind.
"He's… untouchable," someone muttered.
"He's not even using mana!" another gasped.
Before Aidan could react, Austin closed the gap between them. The stick in his hand moved with uncanny precision, striking Aidan's side.
The blow was light, but it made the noble stumble, his expression twisting in confusion and rage.
"You dare?" Aidan growled, beginning another incantation.
Recognizing the spell, Austin's hand snapped forward, throwing the stick high into the air.
The sudden motion caught Aidan's attention, his eyes instinctively following the stick as it spun overhead.
In that brief moment, Austin struck.
His fist drove into Aidan's solar plexus before the stick could even land on the ground.
The noble's eyes bulged in shock as the air was knocked from his lungs.
His incantation sputtered and died on his lips, leaving him gasping and reeling.
Austin stepped back, his calm demeanor unshaken. He made no move to press the attack, instead waiting with an almost casual air as Aidan struggled to remain upright.
The noble's pride flared, refusing to admit defeat.
With a roar, he lunged forward, his fists swinging wildly.
But Austin was a ghost, sidestepping every strike with frustrating ease.
The final blow came swiftly—a precise strike to the back of Aidan's neck.
The noble crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he hit the ground.
The murmurs of the students grew louder.
"Did you see how fast he was?"
"Aidan didn't even land a single hit on that boy, Austin."
"And that is without using any Mysical Arts? Who's this guy?"
Some students were still in awe of Aidan's prowess, whispering about how rare it was to see someone wield pyro-arts without a staff.
Fire Elementalists were legends in their own right, capable of reshaping kingdoms.
Yet, even with such potential, Aidan had been outmatched—by someone who didn't use any Mystical Arts at all.
"I've never seen anything like it," one student said, shaking his head. "Casting without a staff is incredible, but defeating someone like that with just martial skill? That's something else entirely."
Professor Beaumont stepped forward, clearing his throat to cut through the growing chatter. "The duel is concluded, and the winner is Austin Scharf."
Austin turned out, walking away with the same calm detachment he'd shown throughout the duel.
The lanterns cast a soft glow on the cobblestone paths as Austin made his way back to the dormitory building.
The evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of blooming night jasmine, and the silence of the academy settling in for the night was almost soothing.
But peace was fleeting.