I stood still. Listening. I swallowed the dread rising in my throat.
“This class is for the entire legion, regardless of year,” he announced, his voice cutting through the hall. Magical drills will take place three days a week; combat challenges against a randomly chosen opponent fill the other two. Fight until one of you is pinned for five seconds, taps out, or loses consciousness. A faint, ruthless smile touched his mouth. “Five-minute limit.” If there’s no winner, both walk free. But if you win, you earn a day pass outside Elarion this weekend.” The tension in the room tripled.
“Lorik Draventh and Ugo Zeyu. Demonstrate to the first-year how it is done.” the professor demanded.
They stepped onto the floor as if they owned it.
Lorik was calm, unreadable, and wrapped in that Dragontail confidence that warned Don’t blink.
Ugo was taller, broader, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, as if the entire situation were some private joke meant only for him. No signal. No countdown.
Lorik struck first.
He slammed his fist into the mirrored floor. Instantly, darkness consumed everything. Light, sound and reflection swallowed whole. Shadow magic spilled like ink, devouring the arena until only black glass glimmered faintly beneath their feet.
Then Ugo countered.
Sunfire exploded from his palms, searing the void in a blinding flare. Thunder cracked as Lorik answered, summoning a lightning bolt that leapt from his hands. Ugo reacted instantly, raising a swirling cloud shield that split the strike into harmless sparks.
Ugo commanded storms, summoning and shaping them at will, vast, untamed power. But Lorik... Lorik wielded lightning itself. That made him far more dangerous.
Lorik conjured sleek shadow blades. He hurled them at Ugo in a deadly spiral. Ugo answered with a surge of power, unleashing a storm so fierce it tore the air apart. Clouds roared to life, wind and rain colliding in a furious blast that shattered the floor's reflection. Ripples of heat and steam rose from the rain-slick mirrors.
Lorik moved effortlessly, slipping between strikes as darkness carried him forward. Each lightning flash carved his silhouette was relentless, and in control.
Ugo lifted his hands, gathering the storm. Lightning surged brilliantly, relentless, alive. His Sunheart power filled the chamber with raging light.
Lorik vanished again, moving through shadow. He reappeared beside Ugo in an instant. His hand shot out, fingers pressing against Ugo’s temples.
The storm died. The fire faded.
Everything went still.
Ugo froze, breath caught, body trembling. Lorik’s eyes glowed silver as his mind magic took hold. He whispered something only Ugo heard.
Ugo’s expression changed, first defiance, then terror. He dropped to his knees and eyes blank. The silence was absolute.
Lorik stepped back, letting him fall. After a moment, Ugo gasped awake, shaking like from a nightmare.
Rowan leaned close to me and murmured,
“He gets in your head, makes you see your worst fear. If you believe it, it breaks you.”
Lorik straightened, wiping the blood from his mouth calm as ever. The storm had vanished. No fire, no lightning remained, just the faint scent of ozone clinging to the air.
Lorik Draventh was raw power wrapped in reckless darkness. He bore three dominant magical traces: lightning, mind-bending, and portaling. It was an impossible mix for most, even nobles. For a commoner, it was unheard of. I hadn’t known his name until earlier that week, but now his presence was impossible to ignore. Magic flowed through bloodlines in ways only the Gods could grasp—mysterious, unpredictable, never entirely fair.
Ugo was remarkable. He controlled strength forged through discipline but couldn’t compare. Everyone watching knew who won.
I swallowed hard, truth burning in my throat. The most powerful Dragontail in Elarion despised me and everything my family stood for. He couldn’t kill me outright, but there were other ways to make me pay. Fear coiled, sharp and familiar, in my chest. I forced it down. I wouldn’t let him see it. I would not falter.
Professor Hog’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. He clapped once, sharp, and final.
“The first challenge of the week is today. first-years will start.”
There were no soft beginnings in Dragontail, only a plunge straight into combat. This wasn’t a lesson, but a warning. The pairings were anything but random.
All first-years were paired with second-years in combat. Every match reminded us of where we stood. We had no experience. No chance. This wasn’t training. It was calculated humiliation.
