His words lingered in the air for a moment cold and deliberate.

"For the commoners, however... " his tone lowered, dragging tension through the room like a blade "... those who fail to prove themselves in the duel will be stripped of their rank and grade entirely. That means they are not worthy of this academy, nor of the hierarchy itself. Such ones fall to Grade E.. but this academy does not recognize E. It does not welcome weakness."

A hush consumed the hall. The nobles smirked faintly, confident. The commoners froze, quiet breaths caught somewhere between fear and defiance.

A hush consumed the hall. The nobles smirked faintly, confident. The commoners froze, quiet breaths caught somewhere between fear and defiance.

And after a while, Girzar raised his hand. A faint ripple of mana sparked through the air.

Fwum!

In an instant, a scroll materialized within his grasp... its edges burning faintly with life mana, ancient runes glimmering across its surface. The glow rippled once through the hall like a heartbeat, drawing every noble's gaze.

Nobles straightened in their seats, some leaning forward with anticipation as murmurs began to stir again, until Girzar's eyes flicked upward, silencing them instantly.

The nobles shifted in their seats, their eyes drawn to it, some leaning forward with anticipation. The hall's atmosphere thickened, tension wrapping around each student like invisible chains.

"As you all know," he began, his voice calm but laced with command, "the names for the Final Duel have been decided and sealed within this record."

The hall fell into a tense hush as he unrolled the scroll. The golden ink seemed alive, twisting and flaring faintly under the light. Each name shimmered briefly as if reacting to the weight of mana in the room.

"Every pairing," Girzar continued, "has been chosen according to your rank, your prior evaluations, and the marks you have earned throughout the semester. This is no random selection, this is the result of your own potential… or lack thereof."

A few nobles shifted uncomfortably in their seats, trying to mask their nerves. Others smiled faintly, confident in their status.

Girzar began to call the names one after another, each echoing through the hall like the toll of a bell.

'Kael Vorthen versus Rai Estell.'

'Liora Venn versus Toran Kells.'

One by one, the chosen stood, raising their hands with pride or hesitation before stepping forward for acknowledgment. Each name drawn brought a murmur, a flicker of rivalry, a hint of dread.

The air thickened as the names continued, until the hall itself seemed to hold its breath.

SNAP!

A spark of mana burst lightly at Girzar's fingertip, sharp enough to make a few students flinch.

"Each name called," Girzar continued, his tone deliberate and commanding, "will report to the Disciplinary Committee Headquarters before sundown today."

He paused, scanning the rows of students whose faces reflected everything from awe to anxiety.

"There, you will sign under your respective duel transcript. This record will stand as proof of your acknowledgment and readiness. After the final duel, your performance will be evaluated, and your transcript will determine your potential advancement.. or your removal from the hierarchy."

A murmur swept through the crowd, quiet but thick with tension.

The nobles shifted in their seats, some whispering about how the transcript had never been granted to Grade D before; it was a privilege often reserved for higher-ranked nobles.

"Your names," Girzar continued, his tone sharp enough to cut through the noise, "are already inscribed in the scroll by mana. But your presence and signature are mandatory. Only then does your participation hold weight in the academy's record."

The mana runes across the scroll flared once more as he resumed, calling each name with steady precision:

'Kael Vorthen versus Rai Estell.'

'Liora Venn versus Toran Kells.'

'Varis Kynn versus Dion Halvor.'

Each pair rose, stepping forward in acknowledgment.. some proud, some nervous, others masking their unease behind noble composure.

Girzar continued down the list, his gaze never faltering.

'Arden Velross versus Siri Rhaen.'

'Tess Alvane versus Eldric Korr.'

Each name drew more murmurs, excitement growing thicker across the hall as the scroll's glow began to dim slightly with each announcement made.

Still.. Eran sat silent, arms folded, eyes calm yet sharp.

Miyu, too, sat in her place, gaze fixed forward though her violet eyes flickered briefly toward him.

Both of them knew their names hadn't come yet.

But the air between them felt heavier now almost electric.

And when Girzar's tone slowed slightly, drawing breath for the next call…

Every whisper in the hall faded.

Because deep down, everyone already suspected the pairing that was about to shake the entire class.

Girzar's eyes narrowed slightly as the glow on the scroll pulsed brighter, signaling the next pairing.

He raised his voice, sharp and deliberate—each syllable cutting through the still air.

"Eran Vale ' versus ' Miyu Valarene."

The hall erupted.

It started with a few gasps... then the whispers broke loose like wildfire.

Dozens of nobles turned instantly, half in shock, half in barely contained amusement.

"Wait.. did he just say Miyu Valarene (the velmeirion blood)?"

"And… that commoner?"

"Pfft—hah! You heard what she said earlier, right? Her prey?"

"Yeah… looks like the 'prey' will finally get crushed for real this time."

Low laughter echoed through the room, thick with arrogance and disbelief.

Some of the nobles nudged each other, their smirks curling wider by the second.

Even the air felt heavier, like the very walls were leaning in to hear what would happen next.

Miyu didn't move.

Her expression stayed composed, almost too composed.. yet the faint pulse of her violet mana flickered along her fingertips, betraying a sharp spark of something unreadable.

Eran leaned back slightly, his calm never wavering.

His gaze met hers across the room.. steady, cold, and knowing.

The same unspoken understanding passed between them again, deeper this time.

Girzar, unmoved by the noise, raised his hand once more, and a ripple of mana swept through the air... shutting every voice in the hall at once.

"Silence."

His tone dropped lower, commanding absolute focus.

"The duels are not spectacles for your amusement. They are measures of power, discipline, and hierarchy. Whether noble or commoner, each of you will stand and be judged by your worth. The academy does not care for names. Only results."

Every noble fell quiet again, though their eyes still darted between Eran and Miyu, curiosity and tension boiling just beneath the surface.

Girzar's gaze lingered on both of them a heartbeat longer, his old eyes sharp with something calculating... before he finally rolled the scroll shut.

"That concludes the match listings. Dismissed."

A final pulse of mana sealed the parchment.

Then he turned, his cloak shifting with a heavy sweep, and said,

"Prepare yourselves. What awaits is not merely a duel.. it is the measure of your worth in this world."

The bell rang through the hall, but the buzz of whispers immediately followed again as nobles rose from their seats.

Some glanced back at Eran with mocking grins, others murmuring under their breath.

"He's dead."

"No one survives a duel with her."

"Her prey… now officially marked."

And yet, Eran only smirked faintly, standing from his seat in that same calm, unreadable silence.

His shadow stretched long across the marble floor as he turned toward the exit, while Miyu's gaze followed him, her lips curving in the faintest smile.

***

Outside the hall, the air was cooler, lined with the scent of old stone and faint mana drifting from the warded torches. He leaned casually against one of the pillars near the entrance, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded as he watched students trickle out in pairs.

Two noble boys walked past first, their voices hushed but mocking.

"Did you hear? The commoner's matched against Miyu," one sneered, elbowing the other.

"Poor bastard. He won't last a minute," the second laughed, shaking his head.

Then came a group of noble girls, silk gown and robes brushing softly against the marble. They glanced toward him.. then lowered their hands to their lips, muffling a laugh.

"How pitiful… Did you see how calm he looked inside?" one whispered behind her hand.

"Acting brave doesn't make him noble," another murmured with a chuckle as they slipped past.

Eran's gaze followed them lazily, his posture unchanging.

Then... everything stopped.

The air seemed to draw tight as Miyu stepped through the doorway.

Her presence alone sent a ripple across the corridor. The nobles who had just been mocking instantly straightened, faces stiff, conversations dying in their throats. Even those halfway through laughter suddenly pretended to adjust their robes or glance elsewhere, moving quickly down the corridor as if the floor had turned to flame.

Eran's eyes caught the motion, and a faint knowing smirk lifted the corner of his lips. "Well I guess they running from the queen herself.

Miyu's gaze didn't waver. A teasing curl played at the corner of her lips as she stepped closer, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Well" she whispered, " if they think I'm the queen…"—her smirk deepened—"…then that makes you my king."

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