Wind swept across the Citadel's training grounds, carrying dust and tension.
It was the last day of trials and so far arguably one of the toughest!! Two thousand recruits stood in trembling lines.
By sundown, only one thousand would remain. A long wooden platform was built at the center.
Raised. Circular.
The Duel Stage.
General George stepped forward—silver armor, cape snapping like a banner of war. His voice hit the field like thunder-- " Listen well ... Today is the last day of Akari Trials. Among two thousand participated recruits , only one thousand are destined to become akaris" "This is your final showdown to prove your worth ... get back to your postitions lads !"
The Atmosphere Tightens
Rowan cracked his knuckles. Rowan: "Alright. No pressure. Just... y'know... survival."
David grinned.
Aris yawned.
Finn looked like he might pass out.
Lucius remained silent... eyes drifting again to the same girl—Selene Valeheart—standing alone, calm, unreadable.
THE COMBAT BEGINS
Names were called out one by one.
Two recruits would enter the stage.
Only one would walk out victorious.
Cedric walked up next, cracking his knuckles like they owed him money.
His opponent—a spear-user.
General George dropped his hand. David sprinted.
No feints.
No strategy.
Just raw aggression.
Spear strikes carved the air—David dodged barely, sweat flicking off his jaw.
Then—he grabbed the spear mid-swing.
Opponent:
"H—How!?"
David:
"Skill Issue"
He yanked the boy forward and lightly bonked his forehead.
The boy collapsed instantly.
Rowan burst out laughing.
Tyla face-palmed.
Lucius shook his head.
Aris:
"David, for future reference... don't kill our own team."
David:
"It was a gentle bonk!"
Aris stepped up next—slowly, reluctantly. His opponent was slim, fast, cocky.
The second the duel started, the opponent unleashed a frenzy of attacks.
Aris didn't even raise a weapon.
He just dodged.
Barely moving.
Barely blinking.
Rowan:
"How is he so lazy while fighting?!"
Finn : "That's not laziness. That's instinct."
Aris finally sighed.
Aris: "Okay... my turn."
One step. One slash. The match ended.
Michael stepped up next—shaking, pale, sweating. Rowan clapped loudly.
Rowan: "Michael! Remember! Don't die!"
Michael: "Again... not helping!"
His opponent was agile, aggressive, and clearly stronger.
Michael dodged, fell, rolled, got hit, stood again.
Lucius whispered, "He's pushing himself too hard."
Rowan whispered back, "No... he's thinking."
Because Michael did think.
He always did.
He baited his opponent.
Made him overextend.
Made him predictably arrogant.
Then—Michael feigned a stumble.
Opponent took the bait.
Michael swept his legs, climbed his back, and locked his arms around the opponent's neck—leveraging weight, not strength.
Opponent tapped out.
The crowd shouted so loud Michael teared up.
Rowan swaggered forward. Opponent smirked.
Rowan smirked harder. The duel began.
Rowan fought raw—fast feet, sharp reflexes, unpredictable swings.
He wasn't refined.
He wasn't elegant.
He was alive.
The opponent tried to lock him in grapples—Rowan flipped him.
He tried to strike—Rowan ducked under and elbowed him.
He tried to overpower—Rowan kicked his knee and finished with a shoulder throw.
Victory.
He bowed dramatically.
Rowan: "You're welcome."
The air tightened. Even the wind paused.
Lucius walked to the stage—quiet, graceful, expression unreadable. Selene, from across the field, watched him with mild interest.
His opponent stepped onto the stage with ghostlike calm.
Tall ,sharp eyes , expression unreadable.
A black sash tied to his arm fluttered as if moved by an unseen wind.
General George 's eyebrow lifted.
Both stepped forward.
Both bowed—minimal.
Both drew their weapons.
Twin magical katanas ignited with a soft hum.
Lucius' blade glowed pale silver.
The very first strike rattled the platform.
Lucius slid back half a step.
Riven didn't move an inch.
Rowan choked on his own breath.
Rowan: "Okay—THAT guy's not normal."
Their blades crashed again, sparks spiraling around them.
Lucius pushed forward—
Riven reversed the pressure, sliding his foot behind Lucius' stance, almost tripping him.
Lucius caught himself with a palm on the ground, rolled, and slashed upward—
Riven leaned back just enough, the blade slicing a thin line through a strand of his hair.
The crowd gasped.
Riven didn't react.
Cold. Focused. Calculating.
Lucius (low):
"You're... strong."
Riven:
"Not strong enough."
He shoved Lucius back—and unleashed a rapid 6-strike combo, each faster than the last.
Lucius deflected 5— The 6th grazed his cheek.
Blood beaded.
Rowan shouted,
"LUCIUS!"
But Lucius didn't flinch.
Lucius slid forward—
silent, fast, composed.
CLANG—CLANG—CLANG—!
Now he pressed the attack.
Riven retreated, parrying with minimal movement, but Lucius shifted angles unpredictably.
Left shoulder fake → right diagonal strike.
Low slash → upward spiral cut.
Spin → reverse grip thrust.
Riven's block faltered for one breath—
Lucius struck his katana upward, disarming him—
The violet katana flew spinning into the air.
Gasps echoed everywhere.
Lucius' blade rested at Riven's throat. The duel was over.
A small, respectful curve of lips. He spoke for the first time.
Riven: "You're worth remembering."
Lucius stepped back, lowering his blade.
Lucius: "...So are you."
The crowd roared.
Rowan jumped on Finn.
Rowan:
"DID YOU SEE THAT?! HE FOUGHT A DEMON IN HUMAN SKIN!"
Selene watched Lucius from a distance—
eyes narrowed in new interest.
Riven picked up his katana, bowed silently, and walked off the stage without another word.
Rowan slung an arm around Lucius' neck.
Rowan:
"BRO. YOU FOUGHT A GHOST. He didn't even BLINK. What are you made of??"
Michael, exhausted, limped forward.
Michael:
"Lucius... you were incredible."
(He still struggled to breathe from his match.)
"You looked like someone who belonged up there."
Lucius gave them a tired smile—small but sincere.
"Thanks. You guys did great too."
David popped in from nowhere.
David: "And we ALL got selected! We're the chosen ones!
Also... Lucius, don't stand too close. You're still DELICIOUS."
Rowan: "BRO—WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU—"
They chased David across the training yard as he yelled,
"LET ME TASTE HIS POWER—JUST ONE BITE—"
The laughter rose into the night—
a brief, fragile warmth after a brutal day.
Then the bells rang.
All conversation stopped.
A soldier carried a scroll, stepping into the center of the courtyard.
He unrolled it and shouted, voice echoing across the citadel:
"By decree of the High Council—
Tomorrow at dawn...
all chosen recruits will attend the SPIRIT CEREMONY."
Murmurs broke out everywhere.
"Already?"
"So soon?"
"I heard only half of us will be matched..."
The soldier continued:
"Your spirits will decide your fate.
Your future rank.
Your power...
and your survival."
He rolled the scroll shut.
"Prepare yourselves.
The spirits do not choose blindly."
The fire pits dimmed.
The wind grew colder.
A shiver ran through every recruit—
including Lucius.
Because tomorrow... their real story begins.
Selene stood far from them, watching the sky ripple faintly where the crack remained—glowing like a wound in reality.
Lucius's eyes looks determined and firm as Selene's pupils.
He whispers - "Let's see who we become..."