The academy's East wing, often quiet and reserved for scholars, buzzed with a peculiar energy the next morning.
One senior had arrived.
But unlike the others, this one didn't enter quietly.He stepped through the grand arched gates wearing silk robes the colour of spilled wine, shoes polished to a mirror sheen, and a smile that was too perfect to be sincere
His name? Saelan Voltaire
His background? The youngest son of a declining noble house...or so the registry claimed.
But to those who knew how power moved behind the scenes, the Vortaire name still held weight—especially in circles that dealt in poison, politics, and pressure.
Asari first saw him during noon lectures. Saelan entered late, casually sipping tea from a porcelain cup as if he owned the building. The professor, clearly annoyed, said nothing.
All eyes followed him.
His presence was magnetic.
But Asari's eyes feel excited.
Very excited.
Later that day, the academy hosted it's monthly "Theory Exchange" where students could challenge one another in combat simulations based on tactical scenarios.
Saelan signed up within the hour of arriving.
His request?
A match against Asari.
When the announcement came, the courtyard buzzed.
The silent boy versus the devil in silk.
"Didn't even wait a day",Rian muttered beside Asari as they watched students gather in anticipation."This guy's definitely here for you".
Asari said nothing. His eyes locked on Saelan, who stood on the platform adjusting his gloves like he was preparing for a chess game—not a fight.
Saelan noticed Asari's gaze and offered a small wave.
It was mockery dressed as politeness.
The bell rang.
The duel began.
Asari stepped onto the stone platform, the air sharp with tension.
Saelan didn't take a stance.He simply stood, one hand behind his back, the other holding a fan he had yet to unfold.
"I've heard much about you", Saelan said, his voice smooth as velvet. "A silent boy. No background. No family. Just fists and silence".
Asari's gaze didn't waver.
"Some much noise"
"Oh, I always make noise when I fight. It makes watching more fun for the other".
Asari moved first — fast, precise, aiming for the center of Saelan's chest with a palm strike.
" You're sharp", Saelan remarked. "But it to slow to wins against me".
The next moment, Saelan moved.
And Asari barely saw it.
A thin line of pressure shot toward him—not air, not energy, but something harder to detect.
Instinct kicked in. Asari twisted to the side.
Thud!
A sharp blade embedded into the platform behind him. Not a weapon—but a thread.
A silk thread, strong enough to cut stone.
"Thread control," someone gasped from the crowd. "He's a precision-typecombatant!"
Saelan's fan flicked open. From its tips extended dozens of nearly invisible threads, each one guided by subtle finger movements.
Now the game had changed.
Asari's strength meant little if he couldn't touch his opponent.
But he didn't panic.
He observed.
Every time Saelan moved, his weight shifted toward the left. His fan hand moved ever so slightly before a thread struck. It wasn't random. It was a pattern.
Good.
Asari stepped forward again, weaving between threads that shimmered in and out of visibility.
He reached striking range.
Saelan smirked and flicked his fingers—
—only to feel wind brush past his cheek.
Asari had disappeared from his direct line of attack.
Before Saelan could react, Asari's elbow struck his rib.
CRACK.
The silk-wearing noble flew back, landing hard on the stone.
The crowd gasped.
Saelan didn't get up right away.
His fan lay beside him, bent.
Asari walked over, calm and expressionless.
Saelan coughed, then laughed.
"Your's more than a silent boy."
Asari crouched down slightly, voice low enough for only Saelan to hear.
"Still talking?"
Saelan's smile didn't fade. If anything, it deepened.
"To find the one thing that excites me," he whispered. "Chaos. And right now... you're the most chaotic thing in this academy."
Later that evening, Asari returned to his quarters.
On his desk, a package waited. No name.
Inside?
A hand-carved wooden carving of a coiled serpent—beautiful, but unmistakably threatening.
Attached was another note.
> "You survived the first move. Good. This story is just beginning. – S."
He crushed the carving in his hand, splinters cutting into his palm.
He laughed very horrifyingly.
Because as long as he fought Saelan, he was never serious.
Now the prey just takes the bite.
Prey? The devil is waiting.