The sun was high, illuminating the courtyards of the Arvendale Academy of Magic and Swords. The day had started peacefully for Cael, who, as usual, was trying to avoid any kind of trouble. He was sitting in a corner of the garden, his old rusty sword resting beside him, as he watched other students train or chat in groups.
However, the calm was interrupted by a group approaching, led by a tall young man with blonde hair and pristine armor. It was Darius, a second-year student known both for his skill and his arrogance.
"So, you're the famous lazy freshman who beat everyone in your class, huh?" said Darius with a sarcastic smile.
Cael looked up, slightly annoyed by the interruption. "Famous? I didn't know I had a fan club."
The comment drew laughter from some nearby students, which clearly irritated Darius. He stepped forward, tapping the tip of his sword against the ground.
"I want to see if you're as good as they say. Let's fight."
Cael sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm not in the mood for this. How about another day?"
Darius crossed his arms. "Are you scared? I thought you were confident. Or do you only know how to fight amateurs?"
The public challenge quickly attracted attention, and within minutes, a small crowd had gathered around them. Cael looked at the curious faces and, realizing he wouldn't get out of the situation without fighting, stood up.
"Fine, fine. But don't say I didn't warn you," he said, picking up his old sword.
***
The improvised arena was just a space in the courtyard, but the tension in the air made it feel like a real battlefield. Darius, with his proud posture and gleaming sword, seemed confident. Cael, on the other hand, held his sword in an almost careless manner, as if he were more interested in the shade of a tree than the fight.
Master Rylor, who had arrived to supervise, gave the signal to begin.
"Begin!"
Darius charged immediately, his sword slicing through the air in a fast, powerful arc. Cael barely moved, leaning slightly to the side to dodge the strike. Darius kept attacking with quick, precise blows, but Cael dodged each one with minimal, almost irritatingly efficient movements.
"Are you just going to run, freshman?" Darius taunted, his words dripping with frustration.
Cael finally raised his sword, easily blocking a strike. The sound of the impact echoed through the courtyard. "I'm not running. I'm just waiting for you to get tired."
The crowd laughed, and Darius, furious, intensified his attacks. His combination of strikes was flawless, a fluid dance of strength and technique, but Cael remained calm, blocking or dodging at the last moment.
Finally, Cael decided to counterattack. He stepped forward and delivered a quick, unexpected strike, forcing Darius to retreat for the first time. The change surprised the audience and, apparently, Darius himself.
"Not bad," admitted Darius, tightening his grip on his sword. "But that won't be enough."
He stepped back a few paces and began murmuring words in an ancient language. His sword glowed with an intense blue light, emanating a magical aura. Darius smirked. "Let's see how you handle this."
***
Darius charged again, his sword now enveloped in magical flames that seemed to slice through the very air. Cael narrowed his eyes, adjusting his stance. When the next strike came, he blocked it with his old sword, but the impact was so strong that it pushed him back several meters.
"Interesting," Cael murmured, analyzing the situation.
He realized his ordinary sword wouldn't withstand repeated magical strikes. With a resigned sigh, he focused and, in one fluid motion, infused his sword with a faint silver aura. It wasn't as bright as Darius's, but it was solid and stable.
When Darius attacked again, Cael not only blocked but countered with surprising speed. Their swords clashed repeatedly, creating magical sparks that lit up the field.
The confrontation became a spectacle of pure skill. Darius relied on wide, powerful strikes, while Cael depended on precision and efficiency of movement. The crowd was silent, mesmerized by the intensity of the fight.
***
When the two stepped back to catch their breath, both were visibly exhausted.
"You're better than I expected," admitted Darius, panting.
"You're not so bad yourself," replied Cael with a slight smile.
Both advanced simultaneously for a final attack. Their swords collided with such force that a wave of energy spread across the arena, sending dust and leaves flying. When the dust settled, they were both standing still, swords pointed at each other, but neither landing a blow.
"Draw," declared Rylor, stepping in to end the fight.
The crowd erupted in applause and animated murmurs. Darius stepped back, looking at Cael with a mix of respect and frustration.
"You're good, freshman. But next time, I'll win."
Cael simply shrugged, sheathing his sword. "Next time, bring less noise and more strategy."
With that, he left the field, leaving the crowd still buzzing about the incredible duel. Though he preferred to avoid attention, Cael knew that after that day, he would no longer go unnoticed at the Arvendale Academy.
________________________________________
The morning began with a fresh breeze at the Arvendale Academy, but the students' excitement shattered any sense of calm. The first week of classes was about to end, and all the freshmen were eager to learn how the permanent groups would be organized.
Cael, as usual, was sitting in a corner of the courtyard, observing the other students talking. He held his rusty sword, spinning it lazily between his fingers, trying not to appear interested in the commotion around him.
"Hey, lazybones, did you hear the news?" said Taron, sitting beside Cael with his usual energy.
"What news?" Cael asked without looking up.
"Today's the day they sort us into skill-based classes! We'll find out who'll be stuck with us for the rest of the year."
Cael shrugged. "Great. Another thing to worry about."
***
In the main hall, the freshmen were gathered, sitting on wooden benches. Director Harland, a tall man with graying hair and an imposing presence, stepped onto the stage.
"Welcome, students. Starting today, you will be divided into groups based on your skills and aptitudes," he began, his voice firm. "The academy is structured into four years. Each year is a step toward mastering magic, combat, and strategy. You will be evaluated constantly and may be reassigned if you exceed—or fall short of—expectations."
He paused, scanning the audience.
"The freshmen have been organized into three classes: **Class A**, for the most promising and skilled; **Class B**, for those with solid technique but in need of refinement; and **Class C**, for those with raw potential who require a stronger foundation."
Cael glanced at Taron, who seemed nervous. "Bet you're in Class A," Taron said.
"Hope not," Cael replied, yawning. "Sounds like more work."
***
After the ceremony, the names were called, assigning each student to their class.
"Cael Valdris," announced the Director. "Class A."
Cael sighed, standing lazily and ignoring the murmurs around him. "Of course," he thought.
"Lana Keryn, Class A.
Ren Falk, Class A.
Marla Denvor, Class A.
Thorne Callis, Class A.
Elynn Myril, Class A.
Taron Hyrn, Class A."
Cael stopped and looked at Taron. "Looks like you're stuck in this mess too."
Taron smiled, though he seemed a bit intimidated by what it all meant.
***
Later, the Class A students gathered in a training room for an official introduction. Here, Cael had the chance to interact more with his classmates.
"You're Cael, right?" asked Lana, a girl with brown hair tied in a ponytail and determined eyes. "That fight against Darius was impressive."
"It was exhausting," Cael replied, without much enthusiasm.
"Exhausting or not, you were incredible," said Ren, a blonde boy with an elegant posture. "I didn't expect someone so... carefree to be so skilled."
Marla, a short girl with curly hair, crossed her arms. "He looks lazy, but he's got charisma. It's weird."
"Maybe it's just laziness," commented Thorne, a muscular and reserved boy.
Elynn, a tall and shy girl, finally spoke, her voice almost a whisper. "I think he just doesn't like drawing attention."
Cael gave a slight smile. "Bingo."
Taron laughed, trying to ease the tension. "Don't be fooled by his attitude. This guy's sharper than all of us put together."
***
After introductions, the group was briefed on the dynamics of Class A.
"You are the best of this year," said Master Rylor, who would be the group's mentor. "That means we expect more from you. Each of you has unique talents, and your cooperation will be essential. Class A's lessons will demand more focus but also grant you more freedom to develop your specialties."
He looked at them intently. "You'll work together, but never forget: you're also competing."
Those words left the room in silence. Even Cael, who normally didn't care about such things, felt a twinge of curiosity.
***
As the group left the room, Lana approached Cael.
"You always seem so calm. Aren't you nervous?"
Cael thought for a moment before replying. "I don't get nervous about things I can't control. Besides, everyone here has their own strengths. I'll do what I can, at my own pace."
She smiled. "Fair enough."
And so, with Class A formed, Cael began to realize that, although he preferred solitude, there might be room in his life for connections—even ones as unexpected as himself.