[Lucen Ferndale – POV]
His hand rose slightly.
The light-forged swords responded at once, cutting through the air like razors.
Kaine jumped.
Wind burst from under his boots, lifting him out of reach.
But the swords followed.
He cursed loud, twisted his blade to catch the first.
CLANG—!
The impact shook the ridge. The second came down hard—Kaine blocked, barely. The third clipped his shoulder, sparks flying. The fourth forced him lower, his stance faltering with every strike.
He dropped one knee into the dirt, breathing sharp.
Lucen adjusted his wrist.
The next blade didn't fire from the side.
It came from above.
Dropped straight down like a spear. A snap of white light.
Kaine looked up, and for a fraction of a second, Lucen saw it—the weight behind his eyes.
He raised both arms in a tight guard.
BOOM—!!
The light hit him full force. Dust kicked up around his boots. The ground cracked. His defense held, but barely. The shock traveled down his spine.
The flag slipped loose.
Lucen didn't move.
He stared at it, then at Kaine.
Another sword began to form behind him.
[Kaine POV]
His fingers burned as the flag rolled across the cracked ground—closer to the blonde. Kaine lunged, jaw set tight. The whole tournament, every last drop of sweat, came down to this moment. That was his. He earned it.
The blonde reached down. Calm as ever. Picked it up with one hand, like he'd just been waiting for the finish.
Kaine's breath turned ragged. Rage built sharp in his chest. He went for it, desperate, half-running, half-hurling himself forward.
He was almost there.
Then the wind hit.
A sudden rush—Kaine's boots lifted off the ground. He looked up, saw only swirling clouds and a figure floating above him, hair like a golden banner, eyes full of storms.
He spat out a curse.
"FUCK—she's here—"
Of all the rotten luck. If it hadn't been for this pretty fucking bastard standing in the way…
He turned his eyes back down. The blonde was already raising a barrier, white magic blooming into a shell of light. Wind battered at it, but it held.
The blonde's voice was almost gentle, like nothing in the world could touch him.
"Isn't it a little cruel to chase the flag after I just fought him?" He smiled, the sort that showed perfect teeth and no nerves.
Above, the girl in the sky—Sylphine, the imperial princess—barely glanced at him.
"You?" Her voice was cold as sleet. "You haven't earned a single point. Just waited to see who survived. What makes you think you can take the flag at the end?"
She squeezed her fist. Wind gathered, pressure climbing in the air.
The light shield cracked—thin lines forming under the force.
It would have broken, but—
[BUZZZZZZZ—]
The stadium shuddered. Time. It ran out. The floating timer above flashed bright red. Sirens echoed across the field.
All spells dropped at once.
The flag still in the blonde's hand.
[CROWD POV / ANNOUNCER]
The audience was on their feet, half of them screaming, others frozen in shock.
Jake's voice wavered, barely recovered:
"I… I can't believe it! Who even is that?! Did he—did he really take the flag at the last second?!"
Elira stared, mouth open.
The VVIP room—Oriana and Iris both stared in disbelief, unable to find words.
All across the arena, participants collapsed, some groaning, some stunned. On the field, Kaine just stared, sweat burning his eyes, knuckles white.
Kaine lay sprawled in the dirt, sweat stinging his eyes, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. His whole body shook—not from pain, but from fury. The flag was gone. Stolen at the finish by some nobody who hadn't even bled for it.
He stared up at the sky, chest heaving, barely able to hear the announcers over the ringing in his ears.
[ANNOUNCER BOX – JAKE & ELIRA]
The magical screens flashed with new numbers, names appearing in gold above the ruined hills.
Jake's voice boomed, giddy and stunned all at once:
"And there you have it, folks! Here are your official top five placements, after a match that turned every prediction upside down—"
The screen flickered:
1. Lucen Ferndale – 100,000 points
2. Princess Sylphine Evarion – 9,130 points
3. Kaine Kaelthorn – 8,760 points
4. Mira Velra – 7,400 points
5. Theo Meryll – 6,850 points
A murmur swept through the crowd. The first name sent a ripple through the air, as if half the stadium had to blink to believe it.
Elira leaned in, voice low.
"Lucen Ferndale…? Where did he even come from? He wasn't on the watch list, was he?"
Jake answered, just as lost.
"No one had him in the top ten! But he's walking away with it—points from the flag, the final hold, and no one laid a finger on him."
[VVIP ROOM – SKY DECK]
Oriana's expression froze, her usual confidence knocked sideways. Iris's hands fell limp in her lap, lips parted in shock.
Iris managed a whisper, "He… won? He actually—?"
On the field, Kaine slammed a fist into the ground, teeth grinding hard enough to draw blood.
He almost had it. That flag, that win—it was his. And then this bastard—
He glared across the dust-choked battlefield, eyes burning holes into Lucen's back.
Princess Sylphine dropped out of the air, boots touching down with barely a sound. She barely glanced at the scoreboard. Didn't even look at the crowd. None of this was hers to care about. She was just here to prove a point, and she had done it in ten minutes flat.
She turned away, already lost in her own thoughts, the chaos of placements and points nothing but noise behind her.
The stands erupted—half in shock, half in excitement, the rest in outright confusion.
"Lucen Ferndale?" someone shouted from the middle tiers, voice sharp over the buzz. "Who the hell is that supposed to be?"
A boy in a faded Academy prep cloak shoved his glasses up, almost tripping over his own feet. "You serious? That's Cullen Ferndale's kid—the old war hero from the Empire. The one who got sick after Awakening, what, two, three years ago?"
"No way," another voice snapped back. "That guy? He wasn't supposed to live past next winter."
"He was all bones the last time I heard about him—couldn't even stand without help."
"But look at him now—"
Eyes turned, heads craned, the whole crowd trying to catch a glimpse as the magical screen zoomed in on the new champion.
What they saw didn't make sense.
The boy on the field looked like he'd stepped out of a painting—gold-blonde hair catching the light, pale skin unmarred, features almost too perfect. The kind of face you'd find in an oil painting, not sweating and breathing on a battlefield.
A girl in the scholar's section stared, speechless, her friends jostling her for a better look.
"That's not real," she whispered, heart racing. "He looks… I mean, look at him."
Others pressed closer to the edge of the stands, some grabbing for sketchbooks, others just staring, trying to burn the image into memory.
"He's beautiful," someone said.
Across the seats, old rumors sparked again, new ones caught fire. Lucen's name spread from mouth to mouth—some awed, some jealous, all of them suddenly aware of a new force in Astrea's ranks.
[STADIUM FIELD – LUCEN POV]
He stood alone on the torn stone, the flag heavy in his grip, the stadium shaking with noise. The crowd kept staring. A few looked at him like he was some kind of sly animal—eyes narrow, weighing, calculating. Like every vulture in Astrea just spotted a new prize.
On the surface, Lucen just kept his face blank, listening to the announcer's voice echo over the chaos.
First place: Lucen Ferndale…
Inside, his thoughts spun in a completely different direction.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
He'd gone out of his way to avoid screwing with the original plot. If he remembered the novel right, this whole scene was supposed to end with Kaine holding the flag. The bastard had space affinity, stamina for days, and almost no one their age could duel him head-on—not for more than five minutes. All Lucen did was play the odds, watching every movement, running calculations in his head, staying out of reach and saving his own strength.
That was the trick—let Kaine do the heavy lifting, wear himself down, and just be there at the right moment. He wasn't trying to outfight Kaine; he was trying to outlast him. The swordplay and shields only got him so far. No way he'd have risked a direct fight and blown his cover for the sake of a rank.
But Kaine didn't take the usual route. The whole plan nearly fell apart.
Lucen's eyes flicked to the far edge of the arena, where Kaine was still on the ground, glaring daggers in his direction.
Lucky guess, he thought, just managing to intercept before the path closed off.
The problem was, none of this accounted for the princess dropping in out of nowhere. She was never meant to show up here—not for the flag, not for the top five. The only reason she even got close was because she'd decided to settle a score somewhere else.
'If that timer had gone on another second, she'd have split me in two', Lucen thought, lips twitching.
He let out a slow breath and forced himself to relax, shifting his grip on the flag just as the screen zoomed in on his face.
A magical lens hovered in front of Lucen, the crowd still electric. Jake, the announcer, forced a grin, nearly tripping over his own words as he shoved the crystal mic forward.
"Lucen Ferndale—first place, against all odds! Is there anything you want to say to the Academy, to your fellow students, or maybe to the world?"
Lucen scanned the stands. A thousand eyes, some wide with awe, some burning with envy, others already plotting.
He shrugged, let the flag rest on his shoulder, and answered, voice flat and almost lazy. "Not really. That was an easy win. Don't blame the player—blame the game."
A ripple of laughter, disbelief, and grumbling spread through the crowd as the screen flashed his words overhead. Some cheered, some booed, but everyone remembered it.
[STADIUM EDGE – KAINE & AMELIA]
Away from the spotlight, Kaine sat on a low wall, fists still clenched, jaw set. Blood had dried in a line down his arm, but he barely noticed. The anger simmered just beneath his skin, eating at him more with every passing minute.
Amelia slid in beside him, brushing dust off her cloak. She didn't say much at first, just looked at him sideways, trying to read the storm brewing behind his eyes.
"Hey," she said quietly, "it was close. Nobody could've seen that coming. You did everything right."
He snorted, not bothering to hide the bitterness. "Everything right? My sister won first place her first year here. Set the bar for the whole damn Kaelthorn line. I'm supposed to be better—and what, I end up chasing some pretty boy's shadow at the finish? Everyone saw it."
She tried to meet his gaze, offered a small, reassuring smile. "Come on, Kaine. It's just a ranking. You almost—"
He cut her off, voice sharp. "Don't. Don't act like you get it. I was supposed to be the one surpassing my sister. The Kaelthorn prodigy, not… whatever the hell this is."
Amelia shifted, folding her arms, lips tightening.
He wasn't done. "And don't think I didn't see you trying to cheer me up out there. Just stop. If you want someone to coddle, go find one of your House pets. I don't need it."
The words hung in the air, cold and cutting.
Amelia held his gaze a moment longer, then stood. "Suit yourself."
She walked off, leaving Kaine staring at the ground, shoulders tight with shame and resentment.