The duel podium was lit by sunlight through the glass roof, surrounded by layers of shimmering magic circles and reinforced abjuration runes that pulsed faintly at the edges like a heartbeat and had a warded barrier enclosing it in a faint dome of mana.
Lucian stood at one end.
His coat had been set aside, folded neatly on a bench below. His tunic clung lightly to his form as he rolled up his sleeves, fingers calm, deliberate.
A breeze brushed against his black-blue hair, revealing those storm-grey eyes — steady, unfazed.
But his thoughts... drifted.
Magic ranks.
Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Specialist, Expert, Grand Magister, Archmage.
Each rank, divided into three tiers — low, mid, high.
Apprentices were the second rung on the ladder. Those in the high tier could cast up to Tier 3 spells. Lucian had never been tested formally. But Ellie had once told him, over tea and a hangover, that he "sat comfortably in apprentice rank — whatever that means."
Now he'd find out.
Low-tier apprentice? Mid? Or…
Lucian flexed his fingers.
Let's see where I land.
The runes at the edge of the arena flared, signaling that the opponent was arriving.
Lucian's stance shifted slightly — relaxed, but coiled. His new pathways buzzed subtly under his skin, attuned and eager.
He smiled.
And his heart whispered it.
Finally.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In one of the front seats of Class 1-A, a girl sat with her chin resting lightly against her knuckles. Her posture was impeccable, as if carved from marble — regal, yet effortlessly elegant.
Red hair. Ruby eyes. Nerida Virellia.
She looked calm.
Inside?
"Can't this class just end already?"
The frail old instructor at the front — Professor Merle, gods bless his soul — was enthusiastically scribbling diagrams onto a floating chalkboard. His topic?
"Why Fireball Solves Most Problems."
Nerida sighed, only halfway quiet.
She just wanted to go back to her dorm and read. Maybe light something on fire.
Her life was drama, if you asked her.
If it wasn't people gawking at her, it was the whispers. Her calm demeanor? Mistaken for arrogance. Her temper? Often exaggerated.
Not that she cared.
She had been courted by countless nobles and bold commoners alike, but she had turned them all down. Always with a polite smile and a softly uttered "no."
Not because she was cold.
But because she knew what they wanted — status, stories, or something to brag about at balls.
She wasn't an introvert, nor an extrovert. Just... tired of people's assumptions.
Coming from House Virellia, the Undying Flame, had its costs.
Commoners admired her from a distance but rarely approached.
Nobles hated her pride but still wanted to tame her.
To avoid the mess? She'd rejected everyone equally.
It earned her a nickname in the academy.
The Flame Queen.
A knock pulled her from her thoughts.
A staff member peeked in, clipboard in hand.
"Nerida Virellia? You're needed in the test wing."
Professor Merle waved her off with a nod.
Nerida stepped into the hallway beside the staff member, heads turned.
The uniform clung to her perfectly — deep royal blue, trimmed in gold at the cuffs and hem. The blazer curved to her waist, hugging her slim frame before flaring just slightly at the hips. Her skirt hung just above the knee, swaying with each step in perfect rhythm.
Long socks ran up her smooth and pale legs, and the exposed parts catching the light with every movement. She walked like the world was hers, and it simply hadn't caught up yet.
From the windows of the passing classrooms, students peered out.
Some whispered.
Others simply stared.
But none dared wave. No one called her name.
Flame Queen, after all.
Unreachable. Untouchable.
And as always, she didn't break stride.
As she walked beside the male staff member, she asked flatly, "Why?"
"Oh, Test Administrator May requested you," he said. "You're to be an opponent for a boy undergoing late admission testing."
Nerida blinked. Then sighed.
Of course.
Admin May loved using her as a personal ego cleaner. Usually when she wanted to humiliate some arrogant brat.
She rolled her eyes. Another spoiled noble thinking he's a genius. Let's make this quick.
The walk wasn't long. But when they reached the white-pearled testing chamber, Nerida stopped mid-step.
Inside stood the Headmaster himself.
Huh?
Even for her, this was unusual.
Beside him was a breathtaking woman with gold-rimmed glasses, elegant robes, and an amused smile.
Administrator May stood farther back, fingers dug into her clipboard like it owed her money.
Nerida bowed politely to the staff, then ascended the small stairs to the dueling platform.
That's when she saw him.
He was already on the podium. Sleeves rolled up, dark hair shining with faint blue highlights under the light-crystals. His tunic clung to a lean, well-proportioned frame — not bulky, but taut with control. His skin was lightly sun-touched, hands calloused just enough to tell stories. And those eyes...
Storm-grey.
Sharp. Playful. Focused.
He looked less like a mage and more like the charismatic lead in a noblehouse theater drama. Nerida's posture slipped a fraction.
Just a fraction.
Focus. You've seen pretty boys before, Nerida. This one just has... better lighting.
Then—
"Do your best, Luci!"
The woman with the glasses shouted from behind the Headmaster, waving dramatically.
The boy — Luci? — didn't even flinch. Just smirked and cracked his knuckles with theatrical precision.
The Headmaster looked delighted.
Admin May's eyes twitched. Her clipboard may never recover.
Nerida exhaled slowly.
Pretty. Cocky. Of course. Let me guess — he'll he doesn't need a wand?
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crimson enhancement ring, slipping it onto her finger. It shimmered as her mana aligned. The air warped faintly around her.
A silent challenge.
He raised a brow.
"Oh, no need," he said, stretching one arm behind his back lazily. "I've no use for little sticks and trinkets."
"..."
The audacity.
The temperature rose.
Her red hair fluttered as heat shimmered subtly off her body. Ruby eyes flared brighter, as if lit from within.
The ring glowed. Her stance lowered. And her lips curled into a thin, dangerous smile.
"Nerida Virellia. House of the Undying Flame."
She bowed ever so slightly — a courtesy laced in challenge.
Then looked him dead in the eye.
"Pleased to be your opponent."