A gust howled instantly.
SHRRRIP!
A razor-thin blade of wind slashed toward Saor, the Dominar. He twisted sideways, just barely dodging, his shoulder armor scraped open.
Reon, the Luminar, smiled mockingly.
"You move like a puppet with cut strings."
He raised his palm—five blades of wind sliced through the air in a blink.
Saor dove left, ducked, rolled—dodging them all, but every movement cost him. More blood. Less breath. His balance faltered, cuts forming like red petals across his skin. The air trembled with Reon's growing wrath. His smile twisted into something darker.
He didn't want to win.
He wanted to break Saor.
No—obliterate him.
From the left side of the dome, the Dominars rose to their feet, alarm flashing in their eyes.
"Is he trying to kill him?" one whispered, voice brittle with fear.
Up above, the Pillars and Night Watchers watched in silence—some amazed, others amused. Not one moved to intervene.
Reon's wind surged—faster, sharper, meaner. It howled like a banshee, wrapping the arena in violent gales. Saor staggered. A deep gash opened across his ribs. Blood spilled freely.
He collapsed to his knees.
Reon's smile stretched wide at the sight of the Dominar bloodied and broken.
"And so the earth-bound falls," he said coldly.
The Luminars clapped—loud and proud. Their first victory.
Across the dome, the Dominars sat in silence. Shoulders slumped. A quiet, shared defeat.
But then—
A cough.
Saor's body twitched.
Blood dripped from his mouth as he raised his head. His eyes narrowed—watchful now, calculating.
His fingers curled. Tightened around the grip of his dual weapons.
Now.
He vanished—a blur of motion. Sand burst beneath his feet.
Reon's grin dropped as Saor's blade, cutting through the edge of the wind stream, aimed straight for his exposed ribs.
All around the dome, students rose to their feet—both Luminars and Dominars—eyes wide with shock.
Above them, the Pillars and Night Watchers leaned forward in their seats, feeling the sudden shift in the air.
"See? This is why I love the ungifted ones," Davor said, lips curling in satisfaction.
But Reon wasn't just gifted—he was smart.
He spun sharply, unleashing a blast of wind at point-blank range.
WHAM!
Saor was hurled backward like a doll, crashing into the sand.
"Ah—never mind," Davor muttered, shrugging. "His opponent's a mage, after all."
Reon exhaled, eyes narrowing.
"You almost had me," he said—his voice now laced with both respect and rising fury.
Without waiting another second, he raised his wand high.
"Lightning Strike."
He chanted the words with precision and pointed directly at Saor.
BOOM!
A deafening thunderclap echoed through the dome.
A crack of lightning tore down from above and struck.
Saor was slammed into the arena wall, his armor sizzling, smoke curling upward from the impact.
Silence.
"Luminars win!" Seren's voice rang out.
The Luminars burst into applause—cheering, clapping, and celebrating their victory.
The Dominars sat in silence. Some looked away, others lowered their heads. A few wore expressions of concern.
Dawnguard medics rushed to Saor's side and carefully carried him to the rear of the dome, where the healing stations awaited.
"Are we all getting fried like that?" one Dominar muttered nervously.
The mood shifted.
With the first duel over, the tide was clear:
The Dominars were scared.
The Luminars? They were starting to look invincible.
The next duel began. Then another. And another.
The sky dimmed gradually into twilight as the battles continued. The Luminars won most of them while Dominars' victories could be counted on one hand.
"Now, step forward—twenty-three!" Seren's voice rang out.
Cael glanced at the ball in his hand. His gaze drifted to the Luminars' section on the opposite side of the dome and saw no movement.
He let out a quiet sigh and rose to his feet as he walked calmly toward the center of the arena.
"Oh! It's his turn!" Kaelira squealed, leaning forward in her seat, eyes wide with curiosity. "Let's see what this guy can actually do."
The dome fell into silence.
All heads turned left, then right—searching.
But no one stood.
No one from the Luminars' side walked toward the arena.
A beat passed. Then another.
"Wait… are they scared of him?" a Luminar murmured, confused.
"Ugh. This guy gives me the ick," another said under her breath. "I don't even know why."
Whispers spread like wildfire. Unease. Interest. Speculation.
Even Seren looked puzzled. He bent over and checked the selection box again—just in case.
Empty.
He frowned.
"What's the number again?" Said a woman from the Luminar side—dry, lazy, like she had just woken up from a nap.
"Twenty-three, right?"
Everyone turned.
A girl stood, stretching lightly, then picked up an oversized wand resting against her seat. She looked unfazed, almost bored, her straight black hair cascading like a curtain of ink as she walked gracefully down the stairs toward the arena.
The murmurs intensified.
"No way…"
"It's her."
"He's dead."
The Luminars started smiling, like they already knew the outcome. As if victory had already been decided.
"Sorry," she said, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "I fell asleep. The duels were just too… boring."
She stepped onto the arena floor, her aura shifting the air itself. Heavier. Thicker. Different.
Cael's eyes locked onto her.
He knew her.
He'd seen her before, hadn't he?
What was her name again…?
His memory wasn't always sharp, but her face was familiar.
"I'm Salleliah Drae," she said, now standing across from him. Her eyes met his directly—piercing and unblinking. "And you?"
Cael's lips parted. He was about to speak—
"Ah, never mind," she cut in, already turning away. "Not interested, actually."
The arena rustled with half-stifled laughter and quiet gasps.
"Can we start now?" she asked, looking up at Seren.
Seren glanced back at the Pillars—uncertain.
Garran gave a simple nod.
Seren turned, swallowing, and raised his voice.
"Very well. The twenty-third duel—begins!"
Salleliah stood, still as a statue, her wand in hand. Her expression remained calm—bored, even.
Across the arena, Cael adjusted his stance.
No armor. No glow. No aura pulsing with power. Just two plain arnis sticks gripped in his calloused hands.
He looked like a peasant preparing to face a queen.
The dome held its breath.
The duel had already begun, but neither of them moved. Both waiting and watching. Each daring the other to strike first.
Then, Salleliah sighed.
"Fine," she muttered under her breath.
She raised her wand with a dancer's grace, both hands holding it upright as she lowered her forehead to its shaft. A soft chant slipped from her lips and then the air shifted.
Wind rose within the dome, swirling violently. Dust and sand lifted from the arena floor, stinging skin and obscuring vision. Cael's clothes flapped against his frame. His eyes narrowed against the gusts—but he never looked away from her.
"Glass Petal Falls," Salleliah whispered.
She lifted her wand slightly, and the wind stopped.
Above her, a spiral of crystalline ice bloomed into a glimmering shards, delicate as snowflakes, yet vibrating with quiet death.
Then—her wand dropped.
The sky of ice rained down.
They looked harmless, beautiful even. But each shard sliced like a razor.
This was meant to be the end. It always was.
But Cael moved.
He ducked low, rolling into a crouch, his arnis sticks sweeping outward. One shard deflected. Then another. A third shattered with a sharp crack against his left stick.
Each motion was raw, improvised—but precise.
This one's technique... Cael thought grimly as he pivoted. It's like the Darain relic traps—meant to corner, then end you.
A crystal kissed his cheek, slicing it open.
Another tore through his sleeve, drawing blood.
He winced.
This one hurt.
But he was still standing.
And now—Salleliah was watching.
For the first time, her eyes widened slightly.
Cael's chest rose and fell. Slowly. He wasn't showing off. He was surviving.
And that—that—made her smile.
Salleliah's lips curved, slow and elegant. A smile not of amusement, but of interest.
"Interesting," she murmured to herself, barely audible. "Let's see how long you last."
She took a single step forward, and that smile faded; in its place came something colder.
Her gaze sharpened, like a blade being drawn.
"Frozen lull."
At her words, the floating snowflakes shimmered and changed. Their delicate forms thickened slightly, expanding, their glow deepening to a faint blue pulse.
Cael's brows knit together.
What is this? Poison? Paralysis? A curse?
He had no idea. And he didn't want to find out the hard way.
One thing was clear: dodging forever wouldn't win him this fight.
His gaze snapped toward her.
Salleliah.
Still as a statue. Barely moving. Wand was raised in full control.
She was the source.
Get to her. That's the only way.
But how? Charging headfirst without knowing her full capabilities was practically suicide. One wrong move and he'd be frozen, impaled, or worse.
He hesitated—then steeled himself.
We find out. Now.
He sprinted forward, weaving through the shimmering snowflakes as they rained down like spectral petals. One brushed his shoulder—cold, but harmless. Another landed on his arm. Still nothing.
Decoys? Just illusions? Or maybe something worse—something that didn't strike until she wanted it to.
Still, he pressed on. Gritting his teeth, arms raised, arnis sticks spinning in calculated arcs to deflect what he could.
One step closer.
He watched her. She hadn't flinched. Was she confident? Or just waiting for him to trigger her next spell?
He needed to find out. All he had to do was stay sharp—stay keen—because this girl definitely had more up her sleeve.
Cael's thoughts raced with possibilities… until he remembered her smile.
She definitely was hiding something.
One more step. That's all he needed.
He raised his arnis sticks, muscles tense, and leapt—ready to strike.
Salleliah didn't flinch.
She stood exactly where she was, eyes rising to meet him mid-air.
No defense. No movement.Just a calm gaze.
Cael hesitated.Does she want to lose?
But then—
His arms wouldn't move.
Neither would his legs.
His eyes darted down.
The snowflakes—the harmless, glittering snowflakes he'd dismissed—had encased his limbs in ice. One arm is completely frozen. Half his leg was caught in frost. The trap had been set from the beginning.
And now—he was caught.
Without wasting a breath, Salleliah whispered, "Glacier Bloom."
A deep rumble echoed through the arena.
Then boom—a burst of icy energy erupted from the ground like a deadly flower blooming beneath him. The impact sent Cael's body flying.
The entire dome stood.
Even the Pillars. Even the Night Watchers leaned forward, eyes searching through the smoke and debris.
Where is he?
Many had already assumed it was over.
But… the arena remained sealed.
The duel wasn't declared finished.
That meant—Cael was still inside.
The smoke cleared and there he was.
Standing.
Blood trickled from his forehead, dripping down his face. His head hung low. Arms limp at his sides.
"You're still up? Cute." Salleliah said with a dry laugh.
Cael didn't move, didn't speak.
"D-Did he pass out standing?" she asked, her voice tinged with genuine concern now.
From the upper rows of the dome, a figure stirred.
Darain.
No one had noticed him watching from the start. But now—he stood. His eyes locked on the bloodied boy below, concerned. He began making his way down, weaving through the stunned crowd.
Is he okay? Is he breathing? Is he... dead?
"Shall we get him out now?" Ezren asked, his voice low as he turned to Garran, awaiting the order.
But Garran remained silent.
His eyes were fixed on Cael—motionless, head still bowed, blood still dripping.
It was enough. Garran finally stepped forward, preparing to announce the end of Duel Twenty-Three.
And then—the air shifted.
A sudden pressure swept through the dome, subtle yet unmistakable. Everyone felt it. A prickling at the back of the neck. A shiver in the bones.
Whispers erupted among the students.
"Where did that come from?"
"Why does it feel… weird?"
Darain, halfway down the steps, froze in place—his eyes narrowing.
So did Garran's.
Their gaze locked on Cael.
The boy still hadn't moved.
But something around him had.
A thin mist began to coil around his arms, creeping slowly toward the arnis sticks clenched in his hands. The mist shimmered faintly, like it breathed of its own will.
Ezren's expression shifted. "The mist… It's finally showing itself," he murmured, barely audible.
Gasps scattered through the crowd.
"Whoa… what is that?"
"Is that… magic?"
"What the freak is going on?"
This time, everyone could see it.
The mist wasn't subtle anymore—it curled visibly, thickly, around Cael like a living thing. Unlike before, it wasn't just the veterans who saw it. Even the students, the spectators, the Luminar—they all felt it now.
Watching it slither and grow sent a wave of discomfort through the dome.
From her seat, Rhosyn rose, alarm written all over her face. Her gaze jumped between the mist and Garran.
"We have to stop it now," she said, already moving toward the railing. "Get him out of there!"
But Garran raised a hand, silently barring her path.
Rhosyn halted in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"
She stared at him, fury and fear boiling together in her chest. "What are you really up to, Garran?"
He didn't answer. Didn't even turn to face her.
He just stood there, silent and still, eyes fixed on Cael as mist coiled around the Arnis. The once simple wooden stick darkened, its surface shifting—black as obsidian, gleaming like metal beneath the light.
Rhosyn's eyes darted across the Night Watchers—but none of them moved. Not one.
They were watching too. Waiting. Curious.
Rhosyn bit her lip. She could feel her pulse racing in her ears as dread crawled through her chest. She turned back to the arena, hands gripping the railing.
"Liah!" she called out, voice sharp and panicked. "Get out of there—now!"
Salleliah looked at her mother.
She understood. That face—fear etched across it—was for her. For the first time, Rhosyn, her unshakable, composed mother, looked terrified.
Salleliah stepped back, ready to leave the arena and accept defeat. But then... she felt it.
Cael moved.
Her head snapped around, and what she saw made her blood run cold.
He was standing.
Straight now—still bloodied, still battered—but upright. One of his eyes showed beneath the strands of wet hair and dirt, visible at last.
It was full.
And it was black.
Not just dark. Not shadowed.
Black like a void. Like an abyss that pulled everything into it. Something ancient, wrong, and cold. Her grip on her wand tightened instinctively, her breath faltering, heart thudding.
"W-What is this?" she murmured. "W-Who are you…"
"Liah! Get out of there!" Rhosyn's voice rang out from the railing above.