*****
The grand hall of Deviants Academy was brimming with life, a sea of students gathered beneath the towering ceiling, their gazes fixated on the massive holographic screen that hung in the center of the chamber.
The air was thick with anticipation, murmurs and whispers rippling through the crowd like an unpredictable storm.
Thousands of students stood shoulder to shoulder, their expressions ranging from awe to disbelief as they witnessed the unfolding battle.
On the colossal screen, the battle of Group Three played out in vivid, almost surreal detail.
The clashes of steel, the surges of magic, the devastating movents of each combatant—every motion was captured with crystalline clarity, as if the students were watching titans wage war.
But among all the fights being displayed, one battle had seized the academy’s undivided attention.
The duel between Lyrium Blackwood and Eugene Darcyroix.
Gasps echoed throughout the hall as Lyrium’s thunder-cloaked figure blurred across the battlefield, his blade eting Eugene’s bare hands in an electrified clash of raw power.
Sparks danced across the screen, shadows flickering over their faces, and still—despite Lyrium’s monstrous speed—Eugene remained untouchable.
"No way..."
A student whispered in disbelief.
"He’s actually forcing Professor Eugene to dodge?!"
Another gasped.
"Is this even real?! That guy was just another nobody who hides behind his sister and his family before!"
The murmurs turned into a roar, excitent and confusion intertwining, the spectators unable to tear their eyes away from the screen.
The strongest professor of Deviants Academy was facing a re student—and yet, the battle had not ended in an instant.
It was unfathomable.
And as the screen flickered, revealing Lyrium’s lightning-clad form once more charging forward, the crowd erupted in thunderous cheers and frantic discussion, the very foundation of the academy trembling beneath their collective anticipation.
Margaret Windsor sat alone, separated from the noisy crowd of students gathered in the grand hall of Deviants Academy.
The massive holographic screen before her displayed the battlefield in vivid detail, the clash of magic and steel illuminating the darkened chamber.
While the other students leaned forward with wide eyes, whispering amongst themselves, she remained perfectly composed, her cold, sapphire-blue eyes fixed on the fight without a hint of emotion.
The heir to the Windsor family—the prestigious royal lineage known for their powerful elental bloodline—Margaret carried herself with an air of nobility, her arms crossed elegantly over her chest, her long black hair cascading down her back like strands of moonlight.
Her gaze locked onto one particular sage, Lyrium Blackwood.
Margaret had only seen him once before—on the day of the Obelisk Trial.
Even though she saw so interesting feats in him.
He had been nothing more than another participant, another na among the countless students striving to prove themselves.
She had dismissed him then, thinking nothing of his presence.
Yet now, for reasons beyond her own understanding, she found herself watching him again.
Not that she cared.
"Hmph,"
She scoffed, shifting slightly in her seat.
"Reckless. As expected."
She observed his every move—his unpolished stance, the unrefined way he swung that oversized sword, the raw and untad lightning crackling around his body.
A novice.
A fool who didn’t know his limits.
And yet…
Margaret’s fingers lightly tapped against her forearm, her expression unreadable as Lyrium launched another attack at Eugene Darcyroix, the legendary sage.
Every strike he delivered was t with effortless counters, every burst of energy swatted aside like an insect.
The difference in power was as clear as day.
"It’s over,"
She muttered under her breath.
At least, it should have been.
But he kept moving.
Despite the overwhelming gap between them, despite being battered and thrown back again and again, Lyrium didn’t falter.
He wasn’t just attacking blindly—he was adjusting, learning, refining his movents mid-battle.
There was sothing about the way he fought, the way he refused to yield, that made her chest tighten in an unfamiliar way.
Margaret exhaled softly, her gaze never leaving the screen.
"Tch… does he even know when to quit?"
She murmured.
It was frustrating.
Annoying.
And yet, for so reason, she didn’t look away.
She told herself she was only watching out of curiosity.
A re academic interest in how long he could last before Eugene crushed him completely.
That was all.
"Don’t get the wrong idea,"
She whispered, barely audible over the murmurs of the other students.
"This is nothing but a passing curiosity."
But as Lyrium charged forward once more, lightning roaring around him like a storm, she knew deep down that wasn’t entirely true.
But her thoughts betrayed her when,
Only one sound echoed through the grand hall, silencing the murmuring crowd.
Click—!
It was subtle, almost insignificant, but in that mont, everything changed.
The screen blurred for a fraction of a second, and before anyone could process what had happened, Lyrium was no longer where he had been.
He was gone.
Margaret’s eyes widened slightly—not in shock, not in admiration, but in sheer, undeniable disbelief.
"What...?"
She muttered under her breath, her fingers tightening around her arm.
And then they saw it.
A trail of lightning streaked through the battlefield, but unlike before, it wasn’t the wild, crackling yellow energy they had grown accustod to.
No—this was different. It was blue.
Deep, electric blue, like the heart of a raging thunderstorm.
It crackled in the air, leaving an afterimage of his movent, a ghost of power lingering where he had once stood.
Eugene Darcyroix turned sharply, his instincts sharper than anyone present, but even he was caught off guard.
Lyrium was already behind him.
And then—he struck.
Blades clashed against raw mana as Lyrium launched a relentless onslaught of attacks, his movents so fast that even Eugene, a world-class ranker, had no choice but to step back, deflecting each blow with increasing urgency.
Gasps filled the hall.
"Impossible…"
One student whispered.
"That speed…!"
Another muttered.
Margaret, however, remained silent.
Her cold gaze followed every movent, analyzing, dissecting, trying to understand how a re student—how soone like him—was pushing back an opponent of Eugene’s caliber.
Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing.
She didn’t have to.
Her heart had already betrayed her, pounding in her chest, demanding an answer to a question she didn’t want to ask.
What was this feeling?
Was it admiration?
No, that would be ridiculous.
Curiosity?
Perhaps.
Or was it sothing far more dangerous—sothing that made her want to see just how much further he could go?
Yeath that was it.
She watch in silence but,
Again.
And again.
Each strike forced Eugene to adjust, his movents shifting ever so slightly, his smirk never fading.
Margaret narrowed her eyes.
"That idiot..."
She muttered under her breath.
Her tone was cold, laced with irritation, but her gaze never left the battle.
Around her, the students were whispering in awe, their eyes wide, their breaths stolen by the spectacle before them.
"Is he actually pushing back Professor Eugene?"
One student asked, his voice hushed in disbelief.
Margaret scoffed.
"Don’t be ridiculous,"
She said without hesitation.
"Look at his expression. That man isn’t even trying."
She tapped her fingers against her arm, watching every movent, every shift in Lyrium’s footwork.
He was improving—faster, sharper than when she had first seen him at the Obelisk Trial.
But it wasn’t enough.
She could tell.
Lyrium lunged again, his sword slicing through the air like a bolt of lightning itself.
A perfect opening.
Or so it seed.
Eugene tilted his head, dodging by re inches. He exhaled, eyes glinting with amusent.
"Not bad, kid,"
He mused.
"But..."
Lyrium struck again.
This ti, Eugene sidestepped smoothly, his palm glowing faintly with a hint of arcane energy.
"How long can you keep this up?"
Margaret clicked her tongue in annoyance.
"Tch. He’s wasting his stamina."
She could see it.
The way his shoulders tensed slightly, the fraction of a second longer it took for him to reset his stance.
It was subtle, nearly imperceptible, but Margaret knew.
Lyrium was fast.
He was relentless.
But he was still human.
His movents, as impressive as they were, carried a flaw—a limit.
Margaret’s grip on her sleeve tightened.
"You’re not strong enough yet, Lyrium Blackwood,"
She murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper.
But, why does she feels like she have seen those moves before?
Sowhere?
That moves? She saw it sowhere?
But where?
She forgot.
Then,
For a mont, she felt sothing unfamiliar stir inside her—a strange, nagging curiosity.
Why?
Why was she paying this much attention to him?
Why did she care?
*****
Rihana Blackwood stood alone in the dimly lit corner of the grand hall, her back pressed against the cold marble wall.
The glow of the enormous holographic screen illuminated her pale skin, casting flickering shadows on her delicate yet rigid features.
Arms crossed tightly over her chest, she watched the battle unfold with unwavering focus, her crimson eyes narrowing at every movent of the two combatants.
It wasn’t the battle itself that held her attention.
No, she had seen countless duels between powerful mages and warriors in her life.
What unsettled her—though she would never admit it—was the fact that he was the one standing in that arena.
Lyrium Blackwood.
Her little brother.
The sa boy who used to hide behind the walls of their estate, silent and insignificant, avoiding both the gazes and expectations of their prestigious family.
The boy who never fought back.
The boy who never even tried.
And yet now, there he was—moving with a swiftness that defied logic, his sword striking with a force that made even Eugene Darcyroix—the Eugene Darcyroix—acknowledge his presence.
Rihana’s fingers twitched slightly as she took in the scene.
The trails of lightning that followed Lyrium’s movents weren’t just ordinary streaks of electricity.
Unlike most lightning-affinity users, his lightning wasn’t purely golden—it carried a strange, deep blue hue, dark and untad, as if sothing within it was incomplete, unstable, hungry.
Her expression hardened.
"Tch. That idiot…"
She muttered under her breath, barely audible over the murmurs of the crowd.
She hated this.
Hated how unpredictable he had beco.
Hated how different he was from the weakling she had known all her life.
But more than anything, she hated the fact that she couldn’t look away.
How?
How did he change so much?
The thought gnawed at her, clawing at the edges of her mind like an unwelco truth she refused to acknowledge.
Her eyes flickered toward Eugene, who was dodging Lyrium’s attacks with a familiar smirk—the kind of smirk that ant he was actually entertained.
Eugene Darcyroix, one of the strongest sages in the world, was enjoying this fight.
That realization unsettled her more than anything.
Rihana clenched her fists.
"Don’t think this ans anything, Lyrium…"
She whispered, her voice carrying a cold finality that not even she fully believed.
No matter how much he had changed, no matter how strong he had beco—he was still Lyrium.
And she… she had no place in his story.
At least, that was what she told herself.
*****
A tsundere sis...maybe... and a tsundere Female character...
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