Drake's body went limp the moment the blade pierced his shoulder. A sharp, searing pain shot through him, and his knees hit the ground with a heavy thud. The world blurred at the edges, the roar of the crowd fading into a distant hum. He could feel warm blood trickling down his arm, dripping onto the hilt of his sword—the dragon-carved metal now slick with crimson.
This is it.
Riko loomed over him, his bone sword raised for the final strike. Alexis was sprinting toward them, desperation in every stride, but Drake knew—he wouldn't make it in time.
A bitter laugh bubbled up in Drake's throat. Even if I lose, Alexis will win the duel. But that wasn't the point. The grade points—those damned, elusive points that dictated their futures. No one knew how many they had. No one knew how many they needed. The academy thrived on uncertainty, on keeping them all on edge, always fighting, always clawing for more.
And now, he was about to lose his.
A single drop of his blood slid down the blade, glistening in the sunlight.
Then something shifted.
His heart slammed against his ribs, a sudden, violent rhythm that drowned out all sound. His veins burned, not with pain, but with power—raw and untamed. The world around him slowed to a crawl.
Riko's sword descended in a lazy arc.
Alexis' desperate sprint became a sluggish crawl.
The crowd's cheers stretched into a distorted echo.
And then Drake moved.
One second, he was on his knees. The next, he was there—his blade flashing silver as it intercepted Riko's strike with impossible precision.
The clash sent a shockwave through his arms, but he didn't falter.
No hesitation.
No wasted motion.
For the first time in his life, his body moved exactly as his mind commanded.
Mr. Leo's breath caught. He had seen skilled fighters before, but this—this was something else. Drake wasn't just fighting. He was flowing, every motion seamless, every strike deliberate.
Riko's eyes widened in shock. He barely had time to react before Drake's sword twisted, deflecting his bone blade with a sharp clang.
Drake didn't stop.
A downward slash forced Riko back. A feint left—then a brutal kick to the knee.
Crack.
Riko gasped, his leg buckling. His guard slipped for just a fraction of a second.
Drake didn't miss.
His blade slammed into Riko's ribs—not deep enough to kill, but hard enough to make him feel it. The impact reverberated through bone, and Riko staggered, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Drake didn't let up.
A spinning backhand smashed the hilt of his sword into Riko's jaw.
Snap.
Riko's head jerked to the side, blood spraying from his lips.
A sweep of Drake's leg sent the larger fighter crashing onto his back.
Before Riko could even think of recovering, Drake's boot pressed against his throat, his sword hovering inches from his face.
Silence.
The arena was frozen. Alexis stood rooted in place, his chest heaving. The crowd's cheers had died in their throats. Even the instructors—usually stoic, unreadable—were staring in disbelief.
Drake's breaths came slow and controlled, his entire body humming with energy. His grip on the sword was steady, but inside, his mind was a storm.
What just happened?
This wasn't just skill. This was something more.
Riko's chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes darting between Drake's blade and his face. Fear flickered there—real, primal fear.
Drake's voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it carried across the silent arena.
"Yield."
A beat.
Then, Riko's head dropped back against the dirt in defeat.
"I yield."
The crowd exploded. Cheers, shouts, disbelieving laughter—it all crashed over Drake like a wave. Alexis finally moved, rushing forward, but his expression wasn't just relief. It was awe.
Even Torin, the ever-stern instructor, gave the faintest nod—something almost like respect.
But Mr. Leo didn't cheer.
His gaze remained locked onto Drake.
Onto the sword.
Onto the blade that had been stained with blood just moments ago—blood that was now gone.
His lips parted, a silent question forming in his mind.
What are you?
---
The moment the duel was called, the medics rushed in. Riko was carried off, his injuries not life-threatening but serious enough to keep him out of training for weeks. Alexis clapped a hand on Drake's shoulder, his grin wide but his eyes searching.
"Since when could you move like that?"
Drake opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn't have an answer.
Because the truth was—he didn't know.
One second, he had been losing. The next, it was like something inside him had awakened.
His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword. The dragon's eyes seemed to gleam, as if watching him.
Was it the blood?
He didn't have time to dwell. The crowd was still chanting his name, the energy electric. But as Drake walked off the field, he caught Mr. Leo's gaze one last time.
The instructor wasn't smiling.
And that sent a chill down Drake's spine.
Because if there was one thing he had learned at this academy, it was this:
Nothing came without a price.
And whatever had just happened to him—whatever power had surged through his veins—
He had a feeling the cost would be steep.