After classes ended, while the other students busied themselves with the noisy preparations for the annual tournament, Saruto tried to disappear from sight. He didn't want to waste his time on idle chatter; he wanted to return to the only place where he could push himself to his limits: the Time Room in his family's mansion.
But suddenly, as he prepared to teleport into the mansion, he felt a subtle prick deep inside, as if someone's eyes were piercing his skin. He was being watched.
He stopped training, turned off gravity, and retreated slightly into the shadows, whispering to himself,
"Ever since I left class, I've had a feeling... someone's following me."
Not wanting to arouse suspicion in the academy, he used teleportation and appeared in the academy's forest, among the tall, dark trees. There he stood motionless, slowly releasing his aura, a sign of his awareness of what was happening.
"Enough... I know you're following me. Show yourself."
A few seconds of silence passed, then a loud thump pierced the air. From the shadows of the forest, a figure descended from the sky, enormous wings beating the air behind him, his eyes gleaming a sharp golden light, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
He landed confidently before him and said,
"Impressive… I didn't expect you to see through me so easily, commoner."
He paused, then tilted his head slyly and added,
"Or perhaps I should call you by your real name… Heir of the Lyon family."
Saruto's eyes narrowed, but he offered only a cold smile.
"So… you've figured me out. Truly astonishing."
The Dragon Heir, Rhian, laughed deeply as he folded his wings behind his back, then pointed a finger at him.
"From the very beginning, I suspected you. From the moment you entered the advanced class, I realized there was something about you—the aura surrounding you, your energy, your techniques. And I was certain… that you were of the Lyon family, and I decided to make you my rival."
The two stood face to face, the air around them trembling under the weight of their auras, as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for the first spark.