Patterns of Friction

The moment Cael Mavros stepped into the sparring ring, the air around him felt electric—not just from the power thrumming in his opponent's veins, but from the charged tension of the onlookers.

The name Nox had stirred the academy's hierarchy. A ghost had entered their ranks.

And now, Darius Veyron, heir to one of the most dominant magical bloodlines, sought to erase him from existence before he could become a threat.

The golden-haired noble stood across the ring, sparks flickering between his fingertips. Lightning magic—powerful, explosive, and near-instantaneous. A favorite of the arrogant.

A single miscalculation, a fraction of a second too slow—and Cael would lose before he could even begin.

But that was the thing about lightning.

It was fast.

It was destructive.

It was predictable.

And Cael never fought predictably.

The Terms Were Set

A crowd had gathered, their whispers woven with anticipation. Some murmured about Nox's lack of a recorded background. Others discussed Darius's reputation for crushing weaker opponents without hesitation.

And then, there was Lirienne Valis, standing with arms crossed, observing like a hawk.

"I don't know whether to be entertained or concerned," she muttered as she stepped up beside Soren Draeven in the crowd.

The gravity mage smirked. "Let him get obliterated. One less mystery to deal with."

Lirienne gave him a side glance. "You really think it'll be that simple?"

Soren said nothing.

Because deep down, he wasn't so sure.

The First Strike

"Are you ready, shadow?" Darius sneered, electricity sparking from his hands.

Cael rolled his shoulders, exhaled. His heart rate slowed. His breath deepened. He was already in the fight before it had even begun.

The instructor overseeing the match glanced between them before raising his hand.

"Begin."

Darius moved first.

Lightning erupted from his fingertips, jagged bolts splitting toward Cael like hungry vipers.

But before they could reach him—

He was gone.

A blur. A shadow in motion.

The bolts struck empty air.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as Cael reappeared behind Darius, silent as a wraith.

But Darius wasn't slow. He spun, lashing out with another arc of electricity—wild, uncontrolled.

Cael barely leaned back in time, the charge crackling inches from his skin.

Not bad. But it was already over.

Because Darius had done exactly what Cael expected—overextended.

The moment his second attack missed, Cael stepped in.

A sharp palm strike to the ribs—not powerful, but precise.

Darius staggered.

A second hit—his wrist, disrupting his casting stance.

A third—his knee.

And before the noble could even process what had happened, Cael had slipped past his defenses entirely.

His hand stopped just short of Darius's throat.

If this were a real fight…

Darius would already be dead.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then—

"Match over." The instructor's voice cut through the tension.

The crowd erupted.

Some in shock.

Some in anger.

Some in quiet admiration.

And among them, Soren Draeven frowned.

Lirienne smirked.

And High Chancellor Malrik, still watching from above, tapped his fingers against the railing.

Darius stumbled back, panting. His hand trembled, electricity flickering uncontrollably.

"I—" he started, his voice a mixture of disbelief and humiliation. "You—"

Cael simply turned. "You telegraph your movements too much," he said. "Work on that."

Then, without another word, he walked off.

The crowd parted for him.

And the rumors?

They had just begun.

Unwanted Attention

Cael barely made it out of the training hall before someone stepped into his path.

Lirienne Valis.

She leaned against the stone pillar, arms crossed, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"So," she mused. "You could have ended that in one move."

Cael didn't answer.

Lirienne tilted her head. "But you didn't. You let him strike first. You let him feel like he had a chance. You let the crowd see just enough to wonder."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You wanted them to see."

Cael exhaled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lirienne let out a quiet laugh. "Oh, please. You're playing this game, whether you like it or not."

She stepped closer, lowering her voice.

"But let me give you some advice, Nox."

Her gaze sharpened.

"You just made a lot of enemies today. And some of them won't fight you in a ring."

She turned and walked away, leaving Cael alone with the echo of her words.

And for the first time since arriving at Aetheris Academy, Cael felt it.

A real, tangible shift in the air.

The first move had been made.

Now, the real game was about to begin.

Watching from the Shadows

From a distant corridor, a hooded figure observed the match's aftermath.

They had seen everything.

The way Cael moved.

The way he thought.

The way he unraveled his opponent without ever needing brute strength.

A smirk curled on their lips.

"Interesting."

Then, without a sound, they vanished into the darkness.