The morning sun blazed high over the academy’s great dueling arena, sending the grains of sand underfoot shimmering under its light.
Down on the main platform, Arlo and Noah stood side by side with several others, waiting for the arrival of Professor Oliver.
And with nothing to do as they waited, they turned to the most inexpensive way of passing the time. Conversation.
Arlo glanced sideways at Noah. "So," he said casually, crossing his arms, "I heard Master Nigel dropped by your room."
Noah gave him a flat look. "Word spreads fast."
Arlo smirked. "Hard not to when the old man rolls around campus with a rack of clothes bigger than a wagon. What did he want?"
"Clothes for the coronation," Noah replied simply. "I’ve been invited."
That caught Arlo’s attention. His eyebrows rose. "You? Invited to the coronation?"
"Apparently so," Noah said, his tone nonchalant. "I guess the palace wants academy representatives there. Probably thinks it looks good to have a few of their ’hero students’ attend."
Arlo gave a low whistle. "Not bad. Guess fame has its perks. I didn’t get one."
"You didn’t?"
Arlo shook his head. "I’m not the family head yet. My grandfather got the invitation. He’ll probably take my uncle with him or something."
Noah shrugged slightly. "Their loss. You’d make a better impression."
Arlo smirked. "Flattery now? I must be rubbing off on you."
Before Noah could reply, the sound of heavy boots striking stone drew their attention.
Professor Oliver strode into the arena. His expression was stern but not unkind, his posture straight as a sword.
"Good morning, everyone," Oliver said, his voice carrying across the space with natural authority. "I trust you’ve all recovered from last week’s fitness refresher?"
A few students groaned softly. Oliver’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement.
"Good. Because today, we’re doing something different."
He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly before them.
"In the field, you don’t always get to choose who fights beside you. You might find yourself paired with someone whose style clashes with yours."
"Maybe they have different affinities, different priorities, or even different levels of discipline. But your survival might depend on cooperation."
His gaze swept the line of students. "That is why we’ll be conducting team battles today."
A murmur ran through the crowd.
"Team battles? Cool! Maybe we’ll be on the same team."
"You think?"
"Probably not. Professor Oliver likes picking the teams himself."
"Damn it. It would’ve been cool to be able to show everyone the combination technique we practiced last week."
Oliver continued, ignoring the murmurs.
"You will learn to adapt. To coordinate without stepping on each other’s spells. To combine techniques without endangering your allies. And most importantly, to manage positioning and collateral damage."
"You may be powerful alone, but a reckless ally is often deadlier than an enemy."
His eyes swept over the students, as if he could see through them and instantly know their battle capabilities. He probably could.
"We’ll start today with teams of two," he said. "Then move on to groups of three, then four, and so on. Your partners will change as we progress. Consider this an exercise in adaptability."
"So, for the first match, we have Arlo Kael and Noah Webb against Ben Stanley and Frederick Ramsay."
The arena erupted in murmurs. Some students whispered eagerly, others gasped outright.
The rivalry between Arlo, Noah, and Frederick was well known after the incidents from the previous week.
And Ben Stanley’s name carried its own story. None of them would forget the day Noah destroyed and humiliated him before the first years. That was the fight that had earned Noah his title of "Reaper."
At the mention of his name, Noah kept his expression neutral. Beside him, Arlo cracked his knuckles, a small grin on his face. "Well," he said, "this should be fun."
Oliver gestured for the others to move up to the stands. "Everyone not called, take a seat. Observe and learn."
The crowd obeyed, streaming up the stairs to the viewing platform. In a few minutes, the arena floor was cleared, leaving only four students behind.
Except there weren’t four people.
Only three.
Noah, Arlo, and Frederick stood ready, but Ben Stanley was nowhere to be seen.
A faint murmur spread through the stands again.
"Where’s Ben?" someone asked.
"Didn’t he show up?"
Oliver scanned the crowd of students.
"Ben Stanley," he called, voice echoing. No answer.
He frowned slightly, his tone hardening. "Is Ben Stanley present?"
Silence.
Noah and Arlo exchanged a look. This was incredibly suspicious.
Noah personally knew that Ben wouldn’t really skip class, unless there was something wrong, or he was being forced to stay wherever he was.
Before them, Oliver raised his hand. "If he’s absent without cause, he’ll be dealt with later. For now, we’ll proceed."
"You there. Ambrose." He pointed at a brown-haired student in the front row. "You’ll fight alongside Frederick."
The chosen student looked startled but nodded quickly, leaping over the railing to join them.
Noah’s eyes drifted to Frederick, who stood before him.
The young noble’s bearing was as proud as ever, his dark hair perfectly in place, his uniform immaculate. He gave Noah and Arlo a disdainful smirk.
"Well," Noah said clearly, intending for Frederick to hear, "look who’s trying to act important."
"Careful," Arlo chuckled. "He might start crying if you bruise his ego again."
Noah’s mouth twitched. "Should I be gentle, then?"
Before Arlo could reply, Frederick scoffed. "Still hiding behind others, Kael? I see nothing’s changed. You need a partner just to face me."
Arlo tilted his head, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "You sound nervous, Frederick. Don’t tell me you’re scared now."
The other student looked between them uneasily, clearly regretting his luck.
Frederick’s glare hardened. "Scared? Hardly. I just hope you’re ready. I’d hate for this to end before it starts."
Oliver cleared his throat before any of them could escalate the matter. "Enough."
Instantly, they went quiet, but still glared at each other.
Oliver stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "This is a training duel, not a battlefield."
"You are permitted to use your skills and spells to their fullest, but," he said, his voice rising, "if any of you attempt to kill, I will ensure you regret it."
His gaze swept across them, cold and firm. Even Frederick looked away first.
Oliver nodded once. "Positions."
Noah and Arlo moved to one side of the arena. Across from them, Frederick and his partner took their stance.
Noah rolled his shoulders, his eyes narrowing slightly as he surveyed the field.
Arlo cracked his neck.
Above them, the remaining gold-tier students leaned forward over the railing, breath held in anticipation.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Oliver raised his hand, and dropped it. "Begin!"