The Academy of Ethril buzzed with excitement as the morning sun bathed its sprawling campus in golden light. The air felt charged, as though carrying whispers of anticipation and dreams yet to unfold. Banners of deep crimson and gold adorned the towering spires of the academy, fluttering proudly in the gentle breeze.
The grand bell tolled, its deep chime echoing across the grounds, calling students to the central courtyard. Here, a raised podium awaited, flanked by professors and senior members of the academy staff. A sea of students began to gather, their chatter a lively symphony of curiosity and speculation.
---
A figure stepped onto the podium, their robes a testament to the academy's authority. It was none other than High Chancellor Elsyor, a man known for his regal presence and sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through any façade.
"Students of Ethril," his voice boomed, commanding immediate silence. "The time has come once again for the Tournament of Ethril. A tradition as old as our academy itself."
A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd, excitement mingling with apprehension.
"As you all know, this tournament is not just a test of strength, but of intellect, strategy, and resilience. Only the finest will rise to claim the twelve seats of the Round House Knights—a position of unparalleled prestige and authority within our academy."
The crowd's energy surged at his words, the stakes of the tournament igniting ambitions in many hearts.
"Participation is open to all students, regardless of year. However, be warned," Elsyor continued, his tone stern. "The challenges will be grueling, and failure will come at a cost. Only the worthy will prevail."
He gestured to a large board unveiled behind him. The board displayed the names and portraits of the current twelve Round House Knights.
"These twelve have upheld the honor of the Round House this past year. Their strength and wisdom have set the standard. Those who aspire to take their place must surpass them. The tournament begins in five days. Prepare yourselves."
With that, the chancellor stepped down, leaving the crowd buzzing with excitement.
---
As the crowd dispersed, clusters of students began discussing the announcement. The courtyard was alive with chatter, their voices filled with both eagerness and trepidation.
"I heard the challenges this year will include battles in the Shadow Arena," one student said, his eyes wide with excitement.
"The Shadow Arena?" another asked, her tone nervous. "Isn't that where illusions are used to test your mind as much as your body?"
"Exactly," the first student replied. "Only the strongest and smartest stand a chance."
Nearby, Ikaru stood with his friends—Drenor and Vylis—listening intently. His sharp mind pieced together the fragments of information.
"The twelve knights hold authority even above the Student Council," Drenor said, crossing his arms. "No wonder everyone's so eager to join. It's a fast track to the Royal Knights."
"True," Vylis added, his tone thoughtful. "But it's not just about power. The knights also shape the policies of the academy. They're practically untouchable."
Ikaru's gaze lingered on the board displaying the knights' names. His expression was calm, but his mind was racing.
---
Drenor noticed Ikaru's focused stare and spoke up. "You don't seem like the type to care about rankings, Zeyron, but you should know how it works."
Vylis nodded, jumping in. "The rankings are decided through a series of duels and trials. Each trial tests a different skill—combat, strategy, and even leadership. Points are awarded based on performance. At the end, the top twelve students are chosen as knights."
"And the current knights?" Ikaru asked, his voice measured.
"They don't have to compete," Drenor replied. "Unless someone challenges their position directly. But beating one of them is almost impossible. They're the best for a reason."
---
As his friends continued discussing the details, Ikaru remained silent, lost in thought. The tournament wasn't just an opportunity—it was the perfect stage. A chance to make his organization, Essence of Shadow, known. If he could rise through the ranks, it would place his group at the heart of Ethril's power structure.
But he couldn't compete as himself. His name carried weight, and his goals required discretion. The path forward was clear, but it wouldn't be easy.
The chatter around him faded into the background as Ikaru's thoughts crystallized. The tournament would be his, but not as Ikaru.
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The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the Academy of Ethril in hues of amber and violet. The dormitory courtyard, usually calm at this hour, was alive with students practicing duels and debating strategies for the upcoming tournament. Among them, Ikaru sat on a stone bench beneath a sprawling oak tree, the quiet rustling of leaves above a stark contrast to the fervor around him.
Drenor and Vylis approached, their expressions a mix of excitement and determination.
"Zeyron," Drenor called out, his voice cutting through the hum of the courtyard. "You've been quiet since the announcement. Don't tell me you're not planning to compete?"
Vylis added, "Yeah, this is the perfect chance for you. If anyone here deserves to stand among the Round House Knights, it's you."
Ikaru's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his expression unreadable. "I'm not interested," he replied, his tone calm but firm.
Drenor frowned, crossing his arms. "Not interested? This isn't just some school event. The knights have more authority than the Student Council. They're practically untouchable. You'd have influence, power, recognition—"
"Exactly," Ikaru interrupted, finally turning to face them. His eyes gleamed with a quiet intensity. "Which is why I can't participate."
Vylis tilted his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Ikaru stood, brushing off his coat. "You'll see soon enough," he said cryptically, before walking away, leaving his friends exchanging puzzled glances.
---
As the moon rose high, the city of Ethril came alive in its own way. Gas lamps lined the cobblestone streets, their warm glow casting dancing shadows on the walls of towering buildings. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of blooming night jasmine from the gardens scattered across the city.
Ikaru made his way through the bustling streets, his steps purposeful. Merchants packed up their wares for the day, while night markets began to spring to life, their vibrant stalls filled with exotic goods and lively chatter.
Above the noise of the city loomed Rura's building—a towering structure of sleek black stone, its design both modern and imposing. Its windows glinted like molten gold in the lamplight, a testament to the wealth and influence Rura had amassed.
---
The interior of the building was as impressive as its exterior. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings and shimmering tapestries that depicted stories of battles, triumphs, and innovation. The soft glow of enchanted lamps bathed the space in a soothing light.
Ikaru strode through the main hall, his boots echoing against the polished marble floor. A young attendant greeted him with a respectful bow. "Master Ikaru, Lady Rura is in her private study. Shall I announce your arrival?"
"No need," Ikaru replied. "I'll find her myself."
Ascending the spiral staircase, he reached Rura's study—a room filled with shelves of ancient tomes, blueprints, and peculiar artifacts. Rura sat at her desk, poring over a stack of documents. She looked up as he entered, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"Ah, the enigmatic Lord Ikaru," she said, leaning back in her chair. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
---
Ikaru didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I need a mask," he said, his tone serious. "Something that completely hides my identity. And a suit—dark, durable, easy to move in."
Rura raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Planning to rob a vault, or is this for something more... noble?"
"The tournament," Ikaru replied. "I'll participate, but not as myself. I need to ensure no one connects me to this identity."
Rura's smile widened, a glint of admiration in her eyes. "Clever as always. You plan to use the tournament as a stage for your Essence of Shadow organization, don't you?"
Ikaru nodded. "It's the perfect opportunity to make a name for us without exposing myself. Can you do it?"
Rura stood, walking over to a cabinet filled with fabrics and designs. "Of course," she said, pulling out a sleek black material that shimmered faintly in the light. "I've been working on a prototype for a stealth suit. It's lightweight, reinforced, and laced with shadow-enchanted threads. Perfect for what you need."
As she began sketching a design, she asked, "And the mask? Any specific requirements?"
"Minimalistic," Ikaru said. "No unnecessary embellishments. Just something that obscures my face completely."
Rura nodded, jotting down notes. "Consider it done. I'll have everything ready by tomorrow night."
---
As Ikaru left the building, the city was quieter now, the bustling streets giving way to a serene stillness. The moonlight bathed the cobblestones in a silvery glow, and the distant sound of a flute played by a street performer echoed faintly.
He walked with a newfound resolve, his mind racing with strategies and possibilities. This tournament wasn't just a competition—it was the first step in a much larger plan.
As the cool night air brushed against his face, Ikaru allowed himself a small smile. The stage was set, and soon, the world would know the name of the Essence of Shadow.