I barely had time to process my victory before the aftermath began.
By morning, the academy was a different place.
The duel had changed everything.
Students whispered my name in the halls. Some feared me. Some resented me. And some—the dangerous ones—had begun to take interest.
Claude Ashford was one of them.
So was the next person standing in my way.
The Invitation
I found the letter on my desk when I returned from class.
Sealed in black wax, pressed with a crest I didn't recognize.
A formal invitation.
"Ren Hale, you are cordially invited to a private gathering at the Midnight Conservatory. Attendance is not optional."
A signature.
"Elias Fontaine."
I exhaled slowly.
Elias Fontaine.
A noble. A strategist. A predator.
If Damien Sinclair had been a test of strength, Elias would be a test of something else entirely.
Midnight Conservatory
The Midnight Conservatory wasn't just a building—it was an institution within the academy.
A place where the true elite gathered. Where alliances were forged, where the academy's hidden rules were written.
I stepped inside and was met with the scent of aged parchment, wine, and candle smoke. The walls were lined with portraits—figures from noble families, their eyes watching.
And in the center of it all, seated in a high-backed chair like a king upon his throne—
Elias Fontaine.
He was nothing like Damien.
He didn't move with the arrogance of a warrior. He didn't try to intimidate.
Instead, he smiled.
"Ren Hale," he said smoothly, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. "You've caused quite the stir."
I didn't respond immediately. I simply sat.
Elias watched me carefully. He was studying me. Weighing me.
Then he leaned forward.
"You won your duel," he said. "Which means you've entered the game. The question is—do you even know what game you're playing?"
I met his gaze.
"Enlighten me."
His smile widened.
"Power isn't about strength," he said. "It isn't about who can swing a sword the fastest or who lands the cleanest strike. Power is about control. About knowing the rules better than anyone else."
He gestured to the gathered nobles, lounging in their velvet seats, murmuring among themselves.
"Look at them," he said. "You think they fear you because of your duel? No. They fear what they don't understand. You disrupted the hierarchy. That makes you a variable. And variables need to be…"
His fingers tapped the table.
"…contained."
I exhaled slowly.
"So this is a warning?"
Elias chuckled. "It's an offer. The academy is shifting, and you can either adapt—or be crushed beneath it."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, leather-bound book.
He slid it across the table.
"Your second trial isn't about a duel," he said. "It's about survival. There's someone who wants you dead, Ren. And if you don't find them first—"
He tapped the book.
"They'll find you."
The Second Trial—A Hunt
Back in my dorm, I flipped open the leather book.
Inside, names.
Some I recognized. Some I didn't.
But at the very end, written in precise ink—
Ren Hale
A kill list.
And I was on it.
The Second Trial had begun.
And this time, it wasn't about winning.
It was about staying alive.