The mont lingered-Lucas and Carl standing across from one another, the air between them still crackling faintly with the residue of exchanged blows. The arena was quiet now, the chaos of motion stilled, both combatants steady on their feet.
Instructor Verren's voice echoed from the edge of the platform.
"Enough. Duel over."
DING.
The mana field that encompassed the platform rippled once, then dissipated, its faint glow fading into the background.
A murmur spread through the observing cadets.
So had been cheering for flashier matches earlier-light shows, elental storms, flying swords and flying egos.
But this?
This was different.
This fight had been raw.
Tactile.
Two close-combatants.
No gimmicks.
No crowd-pleasing theatrics.
Just blade and shield. Pressure and response. Mind against mind, foot against ground, steel against steel.
And that made it real.
Instructor Verren stepped forward, arms folded behind his back. His voice carried clearly across the field.
"This is what a duel should look like. Controlled. Clean. Calculated."
His eyes passed over the cadets watching from the benches.
"No wild flailing. No overexertion of mana. No dragging the fight out with aimless spell exchanges. Two opponents engaged at full focus, gauging each other, reading intent, adapting in real ti."
He gestured to Carl. "You held your ground without overcommitting. Calculated when to absorb and when to retaliate. That is how you make the most of your fra and affinity."
Then to Lucas.
"And you-your footwork, timing, and tempo control. Near textbook application of close-range misdirection."
Lucas gave a small nod, lowering his sword fully. His heart was still elevated-not from exhaustion, but from the pulse of satisfaction that ca with sharp execution.
Not perfection.
But clean.
He liked clean.
From the benches, murmurs were already spreading.
"That was... intense."
"I didn't even notice half of what they were doing until Instructor Verren pointed it
out."
"I thought Carl would dominate with the hamr, but Lucas kept slipping around him like smoke."
"Yeah, but Carl's shield work? I swear he predicted so of those fake-outs."
While other cadets were talking, Lilia crossed her arms, eyes narrowed as she watched Lucas descend from the platform.
"Middleton style, huh..." she murmured.
Irina tilted her head beside her. "He toned down the illusions partway through."
Julia, lounging nearby with a barely suppressed grin, nodded once. "Because he didn't need them."
Irina glanced toward Julia. "He did that for show?"
Julia shrugged. "He was enjoying himself. That's when he fights best."
At that mont, Carl stepped off the opposite side of the platform, sweat darkening
the collar of his uniform, but his movents steady. He offered no complaint, no praise, no theatrics.
Just a respectful nod toward Lucas from across the platform.
Lucas returned it in kind-nothing more, nothing less.
As he stepped down, he caught a faint motion from the edge of the crowd.
Astron.
Still watching. Still silent. Eyes sharp, unreadable.
Lucas didn't acknowledge him directly.
But his mind ticked.
'Let's see your duel now!'
Julia leaned back on the bench, one leg propped up casually as she watched a pair of first-years exchange clumsy swordplay down on the southern platform. It was supposed to be a match, but from where she was sitting, it looked more like a glorified dance lesson-predictable patterns, telegraphed movents, zero tension.
Her blue eyes drifted, disinterested, until they found themselves trailing back to Lucas, who was seated on the far end of the benches now, toweling the sweat from his face in silence.
She tapped a knuckle against her jaw, thoughtful.
Lucas, huh...
It wasn't like she hadn't watched him fight before. She had, many tis-when they were younger, and even more recently, in academy matches. And sure, he'd always been competent. Always had potential. Their bloodline demanded at least that much.
But lately?
Sothing felt different.
Not just technically-though that, too. His blade was sharper, more precise. His spacing was tighter. His transitions from feint to form had nearly no excess motion. The illusion blade he'd pulled during the early phase of the duel wasn't just a flashy trick; it was asured, part of a tempo he had set and adjusted as the fight wore on.
Julia narrowed her eyes slightly.
That illusion technique...
She knew that move. Not just in theory, either. She had been working on sothing similar herself, in secret. A Middleton-variant to counteract Awkright illusions-to study their distortion field and repurpose it, layer it with pressure, use it for offense
rather than deception.
She'd been developing it out of spite. Out of rivalry. Out of pride.
Because the Awkright family? Yeah. They were brilliant with illusions. But Middletons
were better with blades.
So the fact that Lucas had started blending both-so cleanly-without even
ntioning it to her?
That stirred sothing uncomfortable.
Not anger.
But sothing colder. Sothing deeper.
Yeah... there's sothing strange about you lately, Lucas.
From the outside, he didn't look that different. A little more muscle, sure. A little more composure in his stance. He wasn't slouching as much. But none of it was dramatic.
And yet...
Every ti she looked at him now, sothing in her gut prickled. Her tiger senses- usually quiet unless sothing was off-kept bristling around him. Like there was sothing underneath the surface, sothing just a little out of rhythm.
Julia lingered in the quiet tension of her thoughts for a mont longer-then exhaled and gave her head a light shake, flicking her fingers like she was brushing the uncase
off her shoulders.
Ugh, no. Don't spiral.
She didn't want to ignore her instincts. Her senses had saved her more tis than she could count, both in and out of combat. They didn't just react to danger-they reacted to deception, to pressure, to shifts in people. They gave her an edge.
But still...
Doubting your own twin? That felt... off. Wrong, even.
It wasn't like Lucas was so stranger she barely knew. They were born together. Trained together. Fought each other more tis than they'd fought anyone else. If anyone knew his rhythms, his movents, his tells-it was her.
So maybe she was overthinking it.
Maybe he'd just grown sharper and didn't tell her.
Wouldn't be the first ti Lucas kept things close to his chest.
She snorted under her breath.
Typical Lucas. Quiet, broody, and suddenly full of surprises.
Still... she'd be lying if she said it didn't bother her just a little. Not the growth itself-
that, she could respect. But the fact that it ca with this strange distance, this faint
edge of unfamiliarity? That was harder to ignore.
Even so, she wasn't going to waste energy brooding.
Her eyes flicked forward to the platform, where Astron now stood-silent, poised, still
as a shadow as he waited his turn.
Julia's smirk returned.
Right. She had a duel coming.
And not just any duel.
Him.
Astron was precise. Elusive. Smart. Slippery in the way that made her blood pump
harder in anticipation. She'd been waiting for this rematch since the simulation, and
she wasn't going to hold back. Not this ti.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of mischief flickering across her face as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
She had been working on her own illusion techniques lately-nothing fancy, not the drawn-out ntal tricks the Awkrights were known for, but sothing swift, sharp, instinctive. ant to pressure, to disorient, to hit the split-second window of
hesitation.
So when Lucas pulled out that illusion blade earlier? Yeah, it had made her blink. But it
also gave her a challenge.
He used it first. So what?
She was his twin.
If he could use it, so could she.
And if it looked like plagiarism, well-he'd live. Probably gloat about it later too,
knowing him.
"Let's see if Astron can keep up with both of us," she muttered under her breath, a grin
curling on her lips.
Because now?
Now she had sothing new to test.
And Astron-he was the perfect target.
Reviews
All reviews (0)