Two men sat inside one of the four turrets of the arena. One had black hair and sharp brown eyes. The other, with long white hair, sat so still he almost appeared lifeless—his chest unmoving, as if he weren't breathing at all.
They watched as students filed into their seats. Naturally, yes you guessed it, the top twelve were seated at the very front. The black-haired man narrowed his gaze, focusing on the group of elite students who would soon face off in the ranking duels.
"Oh, Sir Hane, would you look at that," he murmured. "Your great-great-granddaughter was right. That boy really does resemble you."
Hane had been curious since the day before—Ivy hadn't stopped talking about the boy. At one point, he'd even wondered if she had developed a crush. He opened his eyes, revealing their blue colour and scanned the front row. It didn't take long to spot the one she had described.
His expression tightened in astonishment.
The resemblance was... uncanny. Almost unsettling.
The black-haired man continued, "He scored over eighty percent too? Impressive. I wonder what his name is."
"We'll find out soon enough, Shinji," Hane replied.
"Heh. If he's here, scored that high... he must be a genius. I wonder how strong his Sage Art is." Shinji grinned. "Maybe you've finally found someone worthy of Ivy. The boy's got your face, after all."
Hane merely smirked, his eyes never leaving the student in question. There was something about him—something deeper than resemblance. A connection. A pull.
Below, Headmaster Varos stepped forward to begin his speech. The announcement of the first match was about to begin.
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Headmaster Varos's voice boomed through the arena, steady and commanding. "Welcome, students, staff and honored guests, to the ranking duels. These matches will determine your standing within the academy and mark your path forward in mastering Sage Art. Now, for the first match: Ivy Lucaris, top scorer with a perfect one hundred percent, will face Shun Hang, ranked twelfth with a ninety percent score."
The crowd murmured and shifted in their seats, anticipation electric in the air. Ivy Lucaris rose from her seat with the calm poise of a dancer, every movement fluid, almost effortless. She carried herself as if she had been born to command the stage, not just fight.
Shun Hang stepped forward too, his stance solid and grounded. Unlike Ivy's elegant grace, Shun's presence was raw, direct, and unpretentious. His eyes scanned Ivy not with fear, but with a burning determination.
Ivy extended her arms, fingertips tracing delicate arcs through the air. Soft blue light pulsed and shimmered around her hands, weaving into intricate patterns as she began her dance. The subtle swish of her robes was like the whisper of water flowing over smooth stones.
Shun gripped a wooden staff, hefting it confidently. His movements were solid strikes and sweeping arcs — practical, efficient — but lacked the elegance Ivy displayed.
Riku felt a pang of envy. He longed to move like Ivy, to harness power so beautifully. Yet, he could only dream of such fluid mastery.
Ivy's eyes locked on Shun's, serene yet fierce. With a sudden leap, she closed the distance, spinning her staff like a ribbon of light, striking with the speed of a falling star.
Shun barely blocked, the impact resonating through his arms, but he countered with a powerful sweep aimed to unbalance her. The crowd gasped as the two clashed — art against force, finesse against power.
Riku's mind raced, dissecting every strike, every gesture. This was more than a duel; it was a lesson. And as Ivy moved with effortless grace, controlling the flow of battle like a conductor leading an orchestra, Riku realized how far he had to go.
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Shun's right palm struck the ground. A rush of wind burst upward in a vertical cyclone, shielding him as Ivy's wave of burning petals collided into it. The petals hissed and swirled, their flames clashing against the gale until both forces dissolved into crackling steam.
Sweat trickled down Shun's brow. His breathing had grown sharp—measured—but Ivy stood tall, barely fazed, her stance still pristine.
She stepped forward, slowly, like a conductor stepping onto a stage.
And then—she moved.
With a spin, she twirled on the ball of her foot. Her arms arched into a crescent, and in response, fire trailed from her fingertips in sweeping arcs. The flames didn't lash out this time—they danced. They circled her, forming a fiery ribbon that wound itself into a blooming lotus at her feet.
Shun narrowed his eyes.
He wasn't going to wait.
He stomped both feet into the ground. A burst of pressure launched him high into the air, flipping once midair before he angled his body forward, arms braced behind him.
Air bent around his limbs.
He rocketed down like a spear.
The air around his strike sharpened into a drill of wind.
Ivy raised one hand.
The petals at her feet exploded upward, curling around her like a cocoon, each ember a protective blade.
Wind crashed into fire.
A howl echoed across the arena, blinding light bursting from the impact.
Riku flinched, shielding his eyes.
The shockwave reached the stands. Dust and heat swept over the top twelve like a wave. Students gasped. One even fell back in their seat.
And then—
A shape flew backwards.
It was Shun.
He tumbled across the arena floor, bouncing once, twice, before skidding to a stop just inches from the edge of the stage.
Silence.
Then, the smoke cleared.
Ivy stood at the center of the ring, the flames now gone, replaced by a soft shimmer in the air around her.
She hadn't moved an inch since her last step.
Shun groaned and sat up, coughing. His uniform was singed, his hair messier than usual, and a trickle of blood ran down his lip—but he smiled.
"…I yield," he said, voice hoarse.
Varos rose from his seat, his deep voice carrying over the arena.
"Victory: Ivy Lucaris."
Applause erupted.
Some hesitant. Others stunned.
Among the top twelve, Riku leaned forward slightly, eyes wide.
He had never seen anything like that before. The way she moved—the way the elements obeyed her, it was like a dance. It is his first time witnessing Sage Art up close!
He didn't even notice he'd been holding his breath.