The first week at Arcadia Academy had barely begun, and already the air crackled with tension. Not from rebellion or unrest, but from expectation. The academy's reputation wasn't simply built on legacy, but on its infamous Combat Trial.
It was tradition: each new term began with a public duel. Students would be randomly paired and given a simple order: impress.
In truth, it was a display of lineage. Strength. Control.
Failure could ruin a noble's standing before it was even earned.
And Shen Yui had just read her name beside AnWenyi Caelum on the pairing roster.
A hush fell over the crowd gathered in the arena, an open-air coliseum surrounded by floating stands enchanted with runes of safety and vision. Students, instructors, and even foreign guests took their seats under the bright noon sun.
Shen Yui stood at the edge of the dueling circle, her blade hanging loosely at her hip. Her uniform jacket had been removed, leaving her in a sleeveless tunic that displayed the dragon-mark tattoo of her lineage, inked in shimmering silver across her right shoulder.
AnWenyi stood across from her, his posture immaculate, his hand resting calmly atop the ornamental hilt of his ceremonial saber—a Caelum heirloom forged in aethersteel.
"You don't have to hold back," Shen Yui said as they stepped into the ring.
"I wasn't planning to," AnWenyi answered, calm as always.
"Good," she smiled. "Because I'm not the type to lose politely."
The arbiter raised a hand. "Begin."
Their clash was silent lightning.
AnWenyi moved first—a blur of silver and speed. His blade hissed through the air, imbued with elemental wind, aimed not at her body but her stance—a test.
She passed it.
Shen Yui deflected with the flat of her blade, pivoted, and returned the strike with a fluid motion that channeled not brute strength, but refined discipline. Her movements were artful, aggressive, and unyielding.
The crowd gasped.
"She's matching him!"
"No—she's predicting him."
Magic flared. AnWenyi's blade shimmered with ethereal frost as he murmured an incantation. Shen Yui responded with a burst of arcane flame spiraling from her free hand, twisting and dancing in rhythm with her sword.
They were fire and ice. Passion and precision.
And neither yielded.
Above the arena, Lady Virelle watched from her shaded balcony, expression unreadable.
Beside her, Master Corrin of the Tactical Arts department leaned forward. "They're... compatible."
Lady Virelle's veil fluttered. "Dangerously so."
As the duel reached its climax, Shen Yui ducked beneath a sweeping arc and slid toward him, blade poised for his shoulder. But instead of finishing the strike, she halted inches from contact.
Her eyes met his.
AnWenyi's blade was mirrored—at her throat.
Silence.
A heartbeat passed.
They both stepped back at the same time.
The crowd erupted in stunned applause.
Later, in the aftermath of the duel, Shen Yui sat in the shade near the arena's edge, wiping sweat from her brow with a cloth. AnWenyi approached, two glasses of chilled citrus water in hand.
She raised a brow. "Did you poison it?"
"If I had, I wouldn't bring two," he said, offering her one.
She accepted, smirking. "So. We're even?"
"We're acknowledged," he said.
They clinked glasses.
In the stands, Gracy and Acetein watched with growing curiosity.
"She's got him curious," Gracy murmured.
"He's got her rattled," Acetein replied.
Jose Cordapior stood behind them, silent as always, but even his eyes lingered on the pair longer than necessary.
Something had begun in Arcadia that day. Something deeper than rivalry. Stronger than tradition.
Something that would echo through all of Terran.