Temporal Dominion

The moment the referee's voice rang through the arena, an unnatural silence followed.

It was as if no one could process what had just happened.

Then—

The uproar began.

"No way… Ethan lost?!"

"That wasn't just luck—he dominated the last exchange!"

"Who the hell is Lucian Vale?!"

Lucian stood in the center of the dueling platform, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. His body ached, his muscles burned, but he had won.

It still felt surreal.

The weight of the moment pressed down on him, the realization of what he had just done sinking in.

Ethan Marell, a Silver-Tier combatant, one of the strongest among first-year students, lay sprawled on the ground, barely able to move.

Lucian Vale, the supposed nobody who had only recently awakened his abilities, had defeated him.

He could feel the eyes of the students—hundreds of them—on him.

Judging him. Reevaluating him.

And for the first time in his life, they weren't looking at him with pity or indifference.

They were looking at him with fear.

With curiosity.

With respect.

The referee, still in disbelief, stepped forward to check on Ethan. After a moment, he nodded. "He's conscious. He'll recover."

Lucian turned his gaze to Ethan.

The Silver-Tier fighter slowly sat up, groaning, his face a mix of pain and confusion. He looked up at Lucian, eyes burning with disbelief—and something else.

A challenge.

Ethan clenched his fists but didn't rise to his feet. Instead, after a long pause, he let out a dry chuckle.

"...Guess I underestimated you."

Lucian remained silent, watching him.

Ethan wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. "But this isn't over." His smirk returned, though it was weaker than before. "You got lucky. Next time, I'll be ready."

Lucian met his gaze. He could have gloated. Could have rubbed the victory in.

But instead, he simply nodded. "I'll be stronger next time, too."

Ethan's eyes flickered with something unreadable before he scoffed and looked away.

By now, the crowd had started to swarm with energy, students whispering, theories forming, speculation running rampant.

Lucian Vale was no longer a nobody.

He was a threat.

Then—

"Enough."

A deep, authoritative voice cut through the noise like a blade.

The crowd froze.

Lucian turned, his body tensing on instinct.

At the edge of the dueling grounds, a figure in a dark academy coat stepped forward, his presence alone enough to command silence.

Instructor Kael Verdan.

A combat instructor. And more importantly—a Gold-Tier combatant.

His piercing gaze swept across the arena before locking onto Lucian.

For a long moment, he simply observed.

Then he spoke.

"Lucian Vale."

Lucian straightened. "Sir."

"You've caught our attention." Kael's voice was calm, but there was something sharp beneath it. "Report to the Combat Evaluation Hall tomorrow morning."

Lucian stiffened. Combat Evaluation?

That was reserved for students suspected of having high-tier potential.

Kael turned without another word, disappearing into the crowd.

Lucian stood frozen.

He had fought for recognition. For proof that he belonged.

Now, he had it.

But something told him—this was only the beginning.