Temporal Dominion

The echoes of the battle had long faded, but the tension still clung to the air like an unshakable mist.

Lucian remained on the cracked arena floor, struggling to steady his breath. His entire body ached—his limbs felt like lead, his throat sore from Dorian's crushing grip.

I lost.

He knew it from the moment Dorian overpowered him, from the instant his strength failed to match the sheer force of the Academy's Rank #7.

Yet, beneath the pain and exhaustion, there was no regret.

Because Dorian had bled.

And that meant it was possible.

With enough time, enough training—he could surpass him.

Lucian groaned, attempting to push himself up, when a familiar presence cast a shadow over him.

A voice, laced with quiet exasperation, reached his ears.

"You're a reckless idiot."

Lucian looked up, and through his blurred vision, he saw Elara Voss kneeling beside him, silver eyes narrowed in concern.

Elara. His closest friend.

Not the Shadow Empress, not the ruthless Rank #3—just Elara, the one person who had always watched over him since their childhood.

The sight of her expression—equal parts frustration and worry—made him grimace.

"…You saw that, huh?" he muttered, attempting a weak smirk.

Elara sighed, shaking her head. "Of course I saw it. The entire Academy saw it."

She reached out, and before Lucian could protest, her shadows coiled around him, steadying his body. The darkness wasn't cold or suffocating—it was familiar. A quiet, protective presence.

Lucian let out a slow breath, tension easing from his muscles.

"…Thanks."

Elara scoffed, but there was no malice in it. "Don't thank me yet. You're not off the hook."

She studied his bruises, her fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to scold him outright. "What were you thinking, challenging Dorian like that?"

Lucian let out a dry chuckle, wincing immediately from the pain. "Honestly? I wasn't. But I had to try."

Elara's expression softened—just slightly.

Because she knew him.

Knew that Lucian wasn't the type to back down, even when the odds were impossible.

She sighed again, rubbing her temple. "You don't always have to fight alone, you know."

Lucian blinked at that. "Elara—"

"No, listen." Her voice dropped to something quieter, something only he could hear. "You're strong. You're getting stronger. But you're not invincible. If I wasn't there, Dorian would have killed you."

Lucian tensed.

He knew that. He had felt it in the moment Dorian snapped, in the raw fury that nearly crushed him.

And yet—

"I can't always rely on you to save me, Elara."

She met his gaze, her expression unreadable.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other.

Then, finally, Elara exhaled and sat back.

"Fine. Then hurry up and get stronger already."

Lucian blinked before a tired laugh escaped him. "Was planning on it."

Elara shook her head. "Idiot." But this time, there was the faintest hint of amusement in her voice.

The tension between them faded, replaced by something lighter. Something familiar.

They had always been like this.

Even when the world seemed set against them, they had each other.

---

The Ripples of a Fight

By the time Lucian and Elara left the arena, the whispers in the crowd hadn't died down.

"Did you see that? He actually hurt Dorian."

"Yeah, but he still lost."

"True, but how many people can say they've made a Top Ten bleed?"

Lucian felt Elara glance at him. "You're famous now, you know."

He groaned. "Great. Exactly what I needed."

She smirked. "You brought this on yourself, Timekeeper."

Lucian rolled his eyes at the nickname, but before he could retort, a new voice interrupted.

"That was quite the spectacle."

They turned to see Reynard Duskbane, Rank #6, leaning lazily against a nearby column, emerald eyes gleaming with amusement.

"You've got guts, Vale. Not many people dare to piss off Dorian that much."

Lucian straightened, wary. "And you are?"

Reynard placed a hand on his chest, mock-offended. "You wound me. The name's Reynard. Arcane Trickster. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."

Lucian narrowed his eyes. Something about the way Reynard spoke made it clear—he had taken an interest.

Not necessarily a good thing.

Elara, however, was already tugging Lucian forward. "No thanks, we're busy."

Reynard laughed. "Suit yourself. Just don't get yourself killed before things get interesting."

Lucian glanced back at him, but Reynard was already gone, fading into the crowd.

Another ripple. Another shift in the Academy's hierarchy.

Lucian exhaled, focusing forward.

He had lost. But he had left an impression.

And that was only the beginning.