[POV: Oliver Atticus]
"Oh? I think it's my lucky day," Oliver muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he closed the distance between him and the group of six students.
They barely had ti to react.
"P-Prince! My father is—"
SLASH.
The body hit the ground before the words finished.
"I don't care about your father. Show your worth here." Oliver said.
The rest barely put up a fight.
He moved like a shadow, cutting through them in seconds.
The last student standing didn't even try to resist—just dropped their weapon and ran.
Oliver let him.
He glanced at his blade, the blood dripping from its edge. "Forty-one."
Another step closer.
___________
>
— "As expected of the prince. Efficiency at its finest."
— "Glad I bet on him—worth every damn coin."
— "He's not fighting. He's farming aura."
__________
[POV: Vynesaa El'Leather]
The scent of blood was thick in the air.
The tournant grounds were chaos—bodies littered the dirt, so still groaning in pain.
But Vynesaa stood untouched.
A group of noble heirs surrounded her, their expressions a mix of arrogance and unease.
They had the numbers.
They had the weapons. Yet, none dared to make the first move.
"You're in my way," she said, rolling her shoulders.
Silence. No one stepped aside.
"Fine."
Her magic surged. The air trembled.
Then—she moved.
The first opponent barely saw it coming.
One mont he stood firm, the next he was on the ground, choking on his own breath as vines wrapped around his throat, crushing.
The second tried to counter—his blade aid for her side—but she was faster.
She caught his wrist, twisted until bone snapped, then slamd him into the dirt.
The rest rushed her in desperation.
A mistake.
The earth beneath them cracked, roots shot up like spears, tearing through their defenses, slamming them into the ground like ragdolls.
The last noble still standing dropped his weapon, eyes wide with terror.
He took a single step back—
Vynesaa blurred forward.
A sharp gust of wind brushed his cheek, and suddenly, his armor split apart, the cut so clean it barely registered until the chest plate crumbled to the ground.
"Run," she said softly.
He obeyed.
She exhaled, shaking the dust off her hands. The fight was over.
__________
>
— "That wasn't a fight. That was a statent."
— "So of those guys trained for years. She made them look like amateurs."
— "Elven royalty is built different, huh?"
_____________
[POV: Lyrius Ryder]
The battlefield was silent, save for the howling wind.
Snow crunched under Lyrius's boots as he stepped over the last body.
The fight had been exhilarating—his opponent, a brute from one of the noble factions, had lasted longer than expected.
But in the end, gravity always won.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight settle back on his body as he released his control.
He had been bending gravity the whole fight—lightening himself to move faster, crushing his opponent when needed.
The guy never stood a chance.
Lyrius exhaled, watching his breath mist in the freezing air.
He turned—
And froze.
A ripple in space. A warping distortion.
Then—she stepped through.
Calenthir Reyes.
His heart stopped. His brain short-circuited.
The cold of the ice region didn't matter anymore.
The fight he just won? Irrelevant.
Because she was here.
Blonde hair, sharp eyes, an aura that made it seem like the world moved at her pace.
And that goddamn effortless, unattainable energy—like she didn't even realize how much power she had over him.
She barely glanced at him. Just took in the battlefield, the bodies, the blood on the ice.
Then, her gaze landed on him.
Lyrius almost ascended to another plane of existence.
"…What?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
Oh. Right. He was just standing there. Staring. Like an idiot.
He cleared his throat, brushing nonexistent dust off his coat. "Nothing. Just… fancy eting you here."
She blinked, unimpressed. "We're in the middle of an exam."
Right. Dumb response. Recover. Fast.
"Yeah, but fate clearly wanted us to et," he said, giving her his best smirk. "This must be destiny."
Calenthir stared at him for a long mont.
Then she turned away.
Cold. Brutal. Imdiate rejection.
Lyrius's soul left his body.
But he wasn't giving up.
He jogged after her, effortlessly adjusting gravity to glide across the ice.
"So, where are you headed? Maybe I can escort you. You know, in case so weaklings try to attack."
She didn't even slow down. "I don't need an escort."
Ouch.
Still, Lyrius wasn't that easy to get rid of.
He caught up, walking alongside her as if this was all completely natural. "Co on, Reyes. You could at least pretend to appreciate my concern."
She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Lyrius, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were following ."
He gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "? Following you? Please, that's ridiculous. Coincidence, I swear."
A portal flickered to life beside her, glowing softly.
"Well, I'm leaving," she said, stepping toward it.
Shit.
This was his chance.
Before she could vanish, Lyrius grabbed her wrist gently. Just enough to make her pause.
She turned, eyes narrowing slightly.
"You're seriously leaving here?" he asked, voice lower, less playful.
Calenthir stared at him. Then—just for a second—a flicker of amusent crossed her face.
"Try to keep up, Ryder."
Then she stepped through the portal.
And Lyrius?
He jumped in right after her.
_________
[POV: Caspian Arcwright]
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