A duel was about to begin.
The courtyard had fallen into a silence so taut it seed the very air might snap.
Two figures stood at its center—Jet Ashborne, Pri Student of the Academy, and Draco, the boy who had once collapsed in disgrace but now carried himself with a quiet, searing intensity.
Dozens of students circled the edges, whispering, pointing, their excitent spilling over in hushed tones. The scent of Essence still hung heavy from earlier training, mingling with the distant aroma of roasted food from the dining hall.
Yet none moved to leave. Nobody would miss this duel.
Those who had gone to eat miraculously reappeared after hearing the news, their presence creating a small crowd that desired to spectate on this fight.
Jet’s uniform rippled faintly in the breeze as he turned to face Draco fully.
His expression remained calm, though his eyes burned with the challenge thrown before him.
"You’re certain about this?" Jet asked, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.
Draco raised his chin slightly, his lips curling into a faint, confident smirk.
"More certain than you can imagine."
He lifted his hand, the faint glow of his Rank 1 Amber Ignis Dragonheart igniting in his palm.
VWUSH!
Golden fire flickered along the crystalline edges as Essence pulsing with life.
Jet mirrored the motion, drawing out his own D-H.
The air between them shimred as both Hearts pulsed in resonance, their Breaths prickling across the courtyard like static before a storm.
"Then we begin," Jet murmured, his eyes snapping open as he raised his voice. "Ignite!"
VWUUM!
Twin pillars of fire roared upward, golden flas unfurling like banners in the wind. The courtyard’s shadows danced wildly under the blaze.
Students shielded their eyes, so stepping back instinctively as heat washed over them in waves.
’This is too easy...’
Draco’s body humd with power.
Essence flowed seamlessly through his veins, drawn into every muscle, every joint, every breath. The familiar rhythm of the Breath was second nature now—inhale, ignite, exhale, control. His Level 15 status made his foundation terrifyingly stable, a deep reservoir of strength that refused to falter.
As soone who had even used Rank 3 Breaths, power of this level was easy to control.
WHOOSH!
Jet moved first.
In a single blur, his form vanished, reappearing ters away as golden fire spiraled from his fists. His movent was precise, honed, carrying the lethal grace of soone who had fought a hundred battles before.
He lunged forward, strikes flowing like a dancer’s steps, each motion efficient, flawless, burning.
Draco intercepted with ease.
His arm whipped up, blocking Jet’s strike with a flare of fla that crackled against the Pri Student’s.
The force rattled the ground beneath them, sparks scattering like molten rain.
Yet Draco’s stance did not waver.
His breath remained smooth, calm.
’He’s skilled,’ Draco admitted inwardly. ’But even if he was more skilled than I am, there’s no way he can bridge the wide gap that exists between us...’
Jet twisted, spinning into a low kick wreathed in Essence.
Draco simply sidestepped, letting the strike cut air, and delivered a sharp palm strike to Jet’s chest. The impact thundered, forcing Jet to skid back across the dirt.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
"No way—Draco pushed him back?"
"I thought Jet was unbeatable..."
"Nah! He’s just the Pri Student. If we look at actual ability, Draco should be better."
’Shut up, fools!’ Jet narrowed his eyes, breathing deeper, faster, reigniting his control.
He was growing annoyed by the comnts that floated in the air.
His flas coiled tighter, denser.
"Haaah!" He surged forward again, this ti layering strikes upon strikes—fists, elbows, knees, each strike backed by masterful Breath manipulation.
Draco parried each one—effortlessly.
His motions were fluid, efficient, superior in every way. Every clash of fla left Jet reeling, every exchange highlighting just how vast the difference was.
"I told you..."
Draco pressed forward.
A single punch shattered Jet’s guard. A follow-up kick sent him staggering sideways, flas sputtering. Draco’s presence grew heavier with each passing second, the battlefield bending around his montum.
"... You’re going to lose."
Jet’s face hardened. He roared, Essence flaring dangerously as he unleashed a concentrated burst of golden yellow fire—his trump card.
His flaming fist surged into a spear-like form, thrusting toward Draco with deadly speed.
The crowd held its breath.
Draco’s hand rose, fingers splayed. His own Breath surged in a disciplined, perfect flow.
The spear of fire struck—
—and dissolved into embers against his palm.
Gasps and cries rang out.
"Damnit! You..." Jet stumbled, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Your control is good." Draco stepped forward, his voice calm, resonant. "Honestly, for our level, one could call every action you’ve taken flawless. But..."
WHOOSH!
He moved again, faster than Jet could track.
"... I’m just better."
His fist buried into Jet’s stomach, Essence exploding outward like a cannon.
"Ack!" The Pri Student choked, the air driven from his lungs as his body lifted off the ground and slamd into the dirt.
The duel was over.
"...."
Silence fell across the courtyard.
Jet lay sprawled in the dust, cloak singed, flas guttering out. He hadn’t landed a single strike.
Draco stood tall above him, golden fire coiling smoothly around his fra, unwavering. His breathing remained steady, his posture relaxed.
The contrast was absolute: Jet, humiliated, broken down; Draco, unshaken, untouchable.
A chi echoed in Draco’s vision.
[System Notification]
You have defeated Jet Ashborne, Pri Student of the Academy, in a formal duel!
Your Reputation has increased!
Hidden Quest [Repair Your Image] — progress significantly improved.
Secondary Quest [Never Lose Again] — remains valid.
Reward Given: 100 SP
’Another step forward...’ Draco’s lips twitched faintly.
Whispers erupted around the courtyard, louder this ti, frantic and disbelieving.
"Draco won—he crushed Jet!"
"He didn’t even take a single hit!"
"Is Jet really the Pri Student after that?"
The noise carried like wildfire, a tide of speculation and awe. Many students already knew that Draco was strong, though they had lost most of their respect after the entrance ceremony.
After seeing this battle, their fear of him began to return.
The murmurs rose to an unbearable level, matching the tension that kept skyrocketing.
Then—
"Enough."
—A sharp, commanding voice cut through it all.
Every head turned.
A woman strode into the courtyard from the far archway.
She was tall, her auburn hair streaked with silver and bound into a ssy braid. A jagged scar cut across her cheek, adding a harsh edge to her otherwise striking features. Her boots clicked sharply against the stone, her aura heavy with the weight of countless battles.
"My na is Freya. I’ll be your instructor for your next class. Speaking of..."
Her eyes swept over the students, lingering briefly on Draco, then on Jet sprawled in the dirt. A faint smirk curved her lips, though her voice carried no humor.
"Spectacle’s over. Back inside, all of you. We’ve wasted enough ti."
The students scattered quickly, their chatter buzzing like a hive as they hurried toward the classrooms. None dared challenge her authority.
Within monts, the courtyard was nearly empty—save for two.
Draco stood over Jet, who still lay in the dirt, chest heaving with the remnants of battle. Slowly, the Pri Student forced himself upright, pain etched into every movent.
His pride, however, remained silent and unbroken in his eyes, though humiliation burned deep.
Draco watched him for a long mont, then turned slightly, his voice low but firm.
"You’re not my enemy, Jet."
Jet blinked, startled.
Draco’s gaze softened, though the weight behind his words remained.
"You’re strong. But you can be stronger. I can help you get there. But for that... you’ll have to trust first."
The silence that followed was heavier than the clash of their flas.
Draco turned away, walking toward the archway where Freya had gone. His steps were steady, his cloak brushing softly against the dirt.
At the edge of the courtyard, he glanced back once more.
Jet knelt there, fists clenched, his face shadowed in conflict. Draco had definitely left him with sothing to think about.
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