Down by the tunnel, Tess finally dropped Edric’s arm with a grunt.
"Ugh, you’re heavy for soone who talks so much," she muttered, brushing the dust from her uniform. "Next ti, learn when to keep your mouth shut, frost boy."
She adjusted her robe, smirk still curling her lips as she glanced back toward the arena, where the obsidian crest above had already begun to shift, announcing the next nas.
The crowd’s chatter surged again, hungry for the next clash. The air around the arena seed to hum, mana threads flickering across the boundaries like waiting sparks.
Eran watched it all—calm, arms folded. The roar around him was a living thing, he let it wash over him and studied the reactions instead. Faces. Weakness pinpointed. Pride asured. Tess had just shown how quickly the crowd could flip from contempt to worship; Miyu had done the sa a week prior. Advantage built in spectacle.
As the crowd’s chatter filled the air, hungry for the next clash. Where the obsidian crest above already shifted announcing the next nas.
Arden Velross versus Siri Rhaen.
The two figures already stepping out the archway when soone murmurs spread low at first across ears.
"Isn’t that another commoner, huh?"
"Wait... how the hell didn’t he watch the previous matches?"
Suddenly the crowd went buzz off, so laughing already.
"Hey guys, chill. let’s have our second entertainnt. Sit back and enjoy, or don’t you like it?"
Instantly the voices raised again.
"Yes, absolutely! We want more!"
"Hehehe..., I can’t wait to see how the commoner goes down this ti."
"Don’t fall too quickly like the first commoner!"
"Hey Siri! Go get him, crush his ass... they don’t even worth it!"
The mass mockery and fake sympathy already filled the stage, directed against the commoners... questioning why they were even allowed to sign under the disciplinary committee records in the first place.
Siri, on the other hand, glanced over her shoulder at Arden with a quiet smirk, already knowing this served as another perfect mont for her pride.
Eran watched from beneath the archway, already knowing how Arden might feel as a commoner standing before a crowd like this.
They both stepped forward then; the enforcer raised his hand sharply.
"Step forward!" he called.
Both ca closer, bowing their heads slightly toward the judge tables and the high seats.
From the judge’s table, heads turned quietly—so in evaluation, others in mild curiosity. The silver-plated quills already moved across sheets of mana-sensitive paper, recording nas, grades, and categories.
The air within the arena dimd again, the obsidian crest flickering faintly. Then it glowed brighter, signaling the duel’s initiation.
Siri lifted her wrist slightly, a faint blue rune pulsing over her glove.
"Try not to disappoint too fast, Arden," she said, her voice mocking yet laced with an odd amusent.
Arden’s jaw tightened, the faint shimr of a defensive sigil crawling up his arm. "Damn you all, everything seems about pride," he muttered under his breath.
Then the enforcer’s voice echoed...
"Begin!"
Just at the mont the word begin echoed through the arena, nobles already leaned forward in anticipation—this ti considering it was the second commoner match to be held. Rather, they already expected entertainnt, the beautiful chaos of watching a lesser being struggle, toyed with, barely able to form mana with balance.
Siri’s gaze locked on Arden with a cruel grin and glimr of amusent. Her mana surged, threading through her arms and spreading freely in liquid form. The air shimred as water rippled around her hands.. clear, controlled, and refined.
A murmur rose from the crowd.
"Whoa... that’s House Rhaen’s signature form—water specialization."
Another voice followed, "Shit, this is gonna be a ss."
"Ptth... ha! He can’t even survive that, he’ll go drowni—"
Just as the last words were about to slip through a noble’s mouth, Arden’s voice cut through the arena.
"I submit."
A hush struck instantly.
He raised his hand slightly where he stood. Shock and disbelief swept across the stage.
"W... what—?"
Siri froze mid-step, her expression breaking into confusion.
"Huh...?"
The whispers spread again across the crowd. Judges among the six tables went pale for a mont, their quills holding still mid-scratch.
Beneath, Siri’s anger burst.
"Do you know what that ans?! You’ll be stripped off the academy!"
Arden turned his head down slightly, exhaling a quiet breath before glancing up again.
"Yes, I know... but why push hard? Why use as the center of fun and amusent among every noble here?" His voice was calm but heavy. "Perhaps you’ve already won. Even if I decided to fight, there’s nothing I can do."
The words struck into the air and the crowd like a wave silence spreading in their wake. Even the mana lights dimd faintly above, as if holding their breath.
Beneath the archway, Eran folded his arms, just like he had expected. He could already feel the tension humming through the air, the mocking anticipation of the nobles who treated every commoner match like a sideshow.
Well... perhaps just like him, he thought, watching Arden’s still form at the center of the arena. Another commoner swallowed whole by pride and system.
The murmurs didn’t fade. If anything, they grew sharper, bursting like sparks across the audience.
"Arghhh... who the fuck does he think he is?!"
"And to speak before the crowd like that?!"
The noise built until it cracked against the arena walls, then died sharply as Professor Girzar stepped forward onto the arena stage.
The man’s long coat fluttered faintly, his eyes narrowed with that unreadable calm authority. He lifted one hand slightly, and silence followed like a command.
"Arden Velross," Girzar began, his voice low but cutting across the still air.
"You have made a bold decision."
Arden’s head lifted faintly.
Girzar continued, "To accept fate without even attempting to struggle against it... most would call that weakness. Yet I call it recognition. You understood your limits, your place, and spoke before the public with unshaken tone. For that, I will say—I admire your courage."
A ripple of confused whispers spread through the stands. But Girzar wasn’t finished.
"However," his voice hardened, echoing through the arena’s do, "the Hierarchy does not welco stillness. It prohibits failure. Those who cannot strive to et the standards, those whose grades and ranks fall beneath the threshold... shall not remain."
He turned briefly toward the judges’ tables, then back to the crowd.
"As I stated in my earlier announcent, the disciplinary committee’s parchnts are signed and sealed. The agreents stand. Regarding the records submitted by the judges, those whose performance and potential fail to et expectations will be stripped of their titles and expelled from the academy."
His gaze shifted down to Arden again, quiet but unwavering.
"The academy does not welco an E-grade."
The words struck through the silence like a verdict.
Then Girzar lowered his hand.
"Therefore, the decision stands. Arden Velross—dismissed from the academy effective imdiately."
A murmur exploded again through the arena—so shocked, others laughing under their breath. Siri simply watched him, her expression unreadable now, while Arden bowed faintly, his steps slow as he turned toward the exit.
Beneath the archway, Eran’s jaw tightened slightly as he watched him leave. The shadows around him thickened with a quiet weight. So this is what they call order... hierarchy, huh?
***
The arena hadn’t even recovered from the echo of Girzar’s words when the murmurs began again... low at first, then swelling like a wave breaking against stone.
So nobles still gaped in disbelief.
"Did he just—dismiss him like that?"
"An E-grade... expelled right before everyone?"
"Ha! That’s what happens when you stand above your class, commoner fool."
But before the noise could peak again, Girzar’s voice cut through it.
"We aren’t stopping here."
The words froze half the crowd mid-sentence. His gaze swept across the stands, heavy and deliberate.
"There are still matches to be fought," he intoned. "And for those of you who think this is entertainnt... rember—every duel written upon the crest carries weight. Each is a asure of your worth. If you wish to level your rank, to beco a great noble, then prove it here."
The crowd fell into a deep hush. Even the air seed to tighten.
Girzar turned slightly, facing the high seats above. Then, with calm precision, he gave a slight bow.
The reaction was imdiate.
Gasps rippled across the crowd.
"Wait... did—did he just bow?"
"Professor Girzar?"
"Impossible... he never bows to anyone..."
All heads tilted upward.
There—sitting above the judge tables... were three nobles. Their presence alone shifted the atmosphere. Calm. Cold. Untouchable. The sunlight caught faintly against the center figure’s hair—crystalline, almost translucent, scattering glints like fractured ice.
A whisper darted across the crowd.
"Isn’t that the sa boy from earlier last week?"
"Y-yeah... it’s him. That crystalline-haired noble..."
"Shit, w..what, but what’s going on? Girzar bowed his head?"
Confusion tangled with awe. No one could comprehend it. Girzar, known for his rigid authority—bowing before anyone was unheard of.
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