Vel sat alone in the living room, the midday sun casting warm light through the window. Mari was working in the fields, Von on his usual guard duty, and Landre at the church. The house felt empty without them.
He stared at the spell interface floating before his eyes. Light's Blessing—the newest addition to his growing list of spells.
Landre had been using him as her test subject for days now, eager to practice the magic she'd learned at the church. Each casting left that familiar tingling sensation, like sunlight seeping beneath his skin.
The sigils appeared in his interface, contained within a magic circle. Lines connected each one, forming an intricate web of relationships. He studied the patterns, trying to understand how they functioned together.
If he could translate this spell into technical terms, it would be something like: enhance(caster.resistance.light, spell_power)
And if an incoming attack carried the dark element, the spell would mitigate its effect based on the caster's spell power. Simple in concept, elegant in execution.
The door swung open with more force than usual.
Von appeared in the doorway. The way he looked at Vel made it clear he'd been searching for him specifically. Yet Von paused, as if choosing his words carefully.
"Vel, can you go get Celia and meet me back here as soon as you can?"
Vel dismissed the spell window. "Why? What happened?"
"There's something important I need to tell you both." Von's tone was firm but not urgent. "I'll explain later. Now go."
---
Half an hour later, all three were walking toward Lady Halen's estate. The afternoon heat pressed down on them, but the tree-lined path provided some shade.
Von finally broke the silence. "Remember you said you wanted to attend the Academy?"
Vel glanced at him. "Of course."
"I talked with Lady Halen and she agreed to offer a scholarship. But with some... conditions."
They both waited for Von to continue, the only sound their footsteps on the path.
"You need to pass a test. A combat test. To see if you have what it takes to actually attend." Von's jaw tightened. "Graham will be there to evaluate you both."
Vel and Celia looked at each other.
A test?
"Hey, I know it's sudden," Von added, catching their hesitation. "But I wasn't sure if she'd actually keep her word until today."
"So that's why you've been drilling us nonstop for days," Celia said, understanding dawning on her face.
Von nodded. "This is your chance. Don't overthink it—just show what you can do."
They walked in silence after that. Vel's mind raced, but he forced himself to focus. One step at a time.
---
Lady Halen's estate appeared ahead. Marble columns rose high, and manicured gardens stretched on either side of the entrance.
Von led them through the grand entrance. Their footsteps echoed against polished marble floors as they passed through corridors lined with expensive tapestries and gleaming furniture. Vel felt acutely aware of his simple clothes, the dust still clinging to his boots from the walk.
"This isn't something that happens to just anyone," Von said quietly as they walked. "Mind your manners. Both of you."
Celia nodded, her posture slightly hunched, one hand gripping the other below her chest. Vel straightened despite the nervousness churning in his stomach.
They emerged into a courtyard. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the buildings surrounding them. Two figures waited—Lady Halen stood near a stone bench, her silver hair and dark dress making her unmistakable. Graham stood in the shade nearby, hands clasped behind his back, watching their approach.
"Ah, the central figures, arrived at last." Graham's voice carried across the courtyard. His eyes moved between Vel and Celia. "You two seem... confused."
He glanced at Von. "They know why they're here?"
Von nodded.
"Well then, let me make it official." Graham stepped forward into the light. "You've been given an exceptional opportunity today."
Vel's stomach tightened. Beside him, Celia's breathing had gone shallow.
"It is very straightforward," Graham explained, gesturing toward the open area behind him. "You'll each face me in combat. I'll evaluate your abilities and determine if you should pursue this dream, or stop wasting time thinking about it."
The words hit harder than Vel expected. Stop wasting time. This wasn't just an opportunity—it was a judgment.
Celia's hands curled into fists at her sides.
Graham walked toward a weapons rack positioned against the courtyard wall. "So, who wants to go first?"
The question hung in the air between them.
Vel glanced at Celia. She looked back at him. Neither spoke. The weight of the moment held them in place—their usual eagerness to jump into practice seemed to vanish in the face of this formal test.
Graham's voice cut through their hesitation, gentle but firm. "No need to worry. You'll both have your chance to demonstrate your abilities." He gestured toward the weapon rack. "Pick your weapon. Come now—if your goal is the Academy, hesitation shouldn't be in your book."
Vel felt Celia take a deep breath beside him. She turned to meet his gaze, and in that moment of shared understanding, they both knew. All those hours of training together, learning each other's rhythms and styles, had taught them more than just swordplay. They could read each other's intentions without words.
Celia walked toward the weapons rack. Graham followed, his eyes tracking her movements.
She tested the weight of a light blade with a few experimental swings. She adjusted her grip, swung again, then gave a small nod.
Graham picked up an identical sword without hesitation. The choice was immediate, almost too quick to be coincidence.
They moved to the center of the courtyard, boots scraping against stone.
Celia gripped the practice sword with both hands, settling into the same stance she'd used in every practice session—feet planted, weight centered, blade held ready. She turned to face the Vice Headmaster. Even with relaxed posture, his presence filled the space between them.
The Vice Headmaster stood with one foot forward, the other back, his sword held behind him and angled downward. His cloak obscured most of the blade, making it difficult to read his intentions. The stance seemed almost casual, yet Vel sensed a deadly efficiency in how Graham carried himself.
Neither attacked.
The courtyard fell quiet except for the distant sounds of the estate.
Graham raised his free hand, palm up. His fingers curled inward in a slow, beckoning wave. A smile touched his lips.
Celia's grip tightened. She finally burst forward–the speed that had caught Vel off guard so many times. Her strikes came in quick succession - each one precise and measured.
But Graham moved with an ease that made Vel's stomach sink. The Vice Headmaster barely seemed to shift as he deflected each of Celia's attacks, his movements minimal and efficient. He wasn't fighting back - just reading her, analyzing each strike as if this were nothing more than a casual observation.
"Like an open book," Graham's words cut through the sound of clashing wood.
Vel watched in awe as Celia pressed her assault. Her wooden blade whirled through the air, targeting Graham's head with precision. The Vice Headmaster shifted slightly, deflecting the strike with minimal movement. Undeterred, Celia immediately transitioned into a side slash, her footwork fluid and precise.
Graham's blade intercepted each attack with perfect timing. The wooden weapons crashed together, sending sharp echoes across the courtyard. Despite Celia's relentless offense, Graham's defense remained impenetrable, his movements economical and controlled.
Vel recognized the sequence Celia was attempting - one they'd practiced countless times together. She feinted high, then dropped low, aiming for Graham's ribs. The Vice Headmaster didn't fall for the deception, his practice sword already in position to block before Celia's attack fully developed.
"Good combination," Graham commented, parrying another strike.
Celia sidestepped, trying to create an opening. Her blade whistled through the air as she launched another series of attacks. The sound of wood meeting wood filled the arena, each impact punctuating her determined assault. Graham retreated a few steps, though Vel could tell it was a calculated movement rather than being forced back.
"Keep your guard up," Graham advised as he deflected another of Celia's strikes. "Your attacks are quick, but you leave yourself exposed."
Vel watched intently as Celia adjusted her stance, trying to correct her form while maintaining her assault. Her breathing was becoming more labored with each exchange.
"Your footwork is solid," Graham continued, easily avoiding a thrust aimed at his chest. "But you're telegraphing your moves. Your eyes give them away."
Celia spun into another combination, her practice sword cutting through the air. Graham's blade met hers with precise timing, completely neutralizing the attack she had worked so hard to perfect during their training sessions.
"Hm." Graham's mocking sound echoed in the courtyard as he pushed forward, forcing Celia to stumble back. She struggled to catch her breath, sweat beading on her forehead.
"Now let's see how you are on your defensive."
Graham's casual demeanor vanished as he stepped forward. His practice sword became a blur of motion, launching a relentless barrage of attacks. Vel's eyes widened - Celia had always been the faster one during their spars, but now she could barely track Graham's movements.
She retreated step by step, her boots scraping against the stone as Graham advanced. The sharp crack of wood against flesh made Vel wince. One hit landed on Celia's shoulder, another caught her side. Despite the practice sword's padded surface, each impact drew a pained gasp from his friend
Vel's heart clenched as Celia hit the ground, her practice sword clattering against stone. She lay there for a moment, chest heaving with each breath. Graham's tall figure cast a shadow over her fallen form.
The Vice Headmaster turned away, boots scraping against the courtyard floor as he put distance between them. When he faced her again, his voice carried across the arena.
"Is that everything you've got?" Graham's words cut through the air. "I expected more from Clara's sister. She was a platinum adventurer, after all."
Vel's fists tightened at his sides. The mention of Clara seemed to pierce through Celia's exhaustion. She stirred, fingers curling around the handle of her practice sword once more.
Her movements were slow as she pushed herself up, hair falling forward to obscure her face. Vel couldn't see her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders spoke volumes. The way she gripped the sword, knuckles white against the wood - he recognized that internal struggle. The weight of Clara's legacy pressing down on her, the fear of not measuring up.
But something shifted in Celia's stance. Her breathing steadied, and she lifted the practice sword once more. When she finally raised her head, Vel saw steel in her expression. The hesitation had burned away, replaced by raw determination.
Vel watched as Celia launched into another flurry of attacks. Her movements had changed - each strike flowing seamlessly into the next, like links in a chain. Where before she had fought with raw determination, now there was calculation behind every move.
Graham blocked each hit with practiced ease, but Vel noticed something different in the pattern. Celia wasn't aiming to break through his defense - she was herding him, controlling the space between them with each carefully placed strike. Her blade sang through the air, forcing Graham to step exactly where she wanted him to go.
"Not bad," Graham acknowledged, deflecting another precisely aimed thrust.
Celia's final attack came in hard and fast - a powerful overhead strike that seemed to commit all her remaining strength. Graham's blade rose to meet it, wood cracking against wood. But in that instant, Graham twisted, his body completing a full rotation. His practice sword whirled in a devastating arc, front to back and returning again with frightening speed.
The impact against Celia's side echoed across the courtyard. She stumbled backward, face contorted in pain, barely keeping her footing as the force of the blow sent her reeling.
"Come on," Graham called out, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. "Show me something. Prove that you are better than any other swordsman."
Vel's throat tightened as he watched. His hands clenched at his sides, knowing with crushing certainty that he would fare no better against Graham's skill. Every move the Vice Headmaster made spoke of years of experience - the kind of mastery that made their practice sessions look like children playing at swords.
Vel's chest tightened as he watched Celia struggle to catch her breath. Her shoulders heaved with each inhale, practice sword hanging loosely at her side. That last spinning attack from Graham had clearly taken its toll.
From the corner of his eye, Vel noticed Von and Lady Halen observing the match. Von's face remained impassive, but his rigid posture betrayed his tension. Lady Halen's expression held a mix of curiosity and assessment.
Celia's eyes glistened with unshed tears. Vel recognized that look - the same one she wore when speaking of Clara, when the weight of expectations became too heavy to bear. Her fingers trembled around the practice sword's grip as if ready to admit defeat, to accept that she wasn't good enough.
But something changed in her demeanor. Celia drew herself up, pulling in a deep breath that seemed to steady her entire frame. Vel's eyes widened as she shifted her stance - one foot forward, the other back, mirroring Graham's position exactly. Her practice sword angled downward behind her, held with the same casual efficiency that had made Graham's style so deadly.
Graham's eyebrows rose slightly, the first crack in his professional facade. Vel couldn't help but stare at the scene before him - two figures facing each other like reflections in a mirror, their stances identical down to the smallest detail. The tension in the courtyard thickened as neither moved, both waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Vel held his breath as the two fighters stood motionless, their stances mirror images of each other. The afternoon breeze rustled through the courtyard, carrying with it the weight of anticipation. Neither Graham nor Celia moved a muscle, each waiting for the other to break first.
Graham's eyes narrowed slightly as he assessed this new development. "Alright, let's see what this is about," he called out, finally shattering the stillness.
The Vice Headmaster surged forward, his practice sword becoming a blur once more as he unleashed another devastating sequence. But something had changed. Vel noticed it immediately in Celia's eyes - a newfound clarity that hadn't been there before. Her movements became precise, economical, each parry and redirect flowing naturally into the next. She matched Graham's style perfectly, moving only when necessary, just as he had done earlier.
Vel's eyes widened as he watched Celia handle the onslaught. Gone were the excessive movements and wasted energy. Each defense was calculated, predicted, turning Graham's own technique against him. The sharp cracks of wood meeting wood echoed through the courtyard with renewed purpose.
Then came a strike that made Vel's stomach drop. Graham's attack wasn't particularly fast, but the raw power behind it was evident. The practice sword cut through the air with crushing force - a reminder that speed wasn't everything. Graham's superior strength threatened to overwhelm Celia's defense completely.
Celia recognized the danger instantly. She leaped backward, putting distance between herself and Graham before his follow-up attacks could connect.
Graham's face lit up with excitement. "That's right!" he called out. "Speed alone isn't enough. You need instinct. Understanding your opponent's movements. Quick thinking, not just quick feet."
Vel watched as Celia's stance shifted again. Her breathing had steadied, but he could see the slight tremor in her arms - she was reaching her limit. Her eyes darted across Graham's form, analyzing, calculating.
She exploded forward with renewed purpose. Her blade wove through the air in intricate patterns, each movement flowing into the next. Vel recognized the strategy - she wasn't trying to land hits anymore, but forcing Graham to react to her feints. Their wooden swords scraped against each other in an elegant dance, neither blade fully connecting as they slid past one another.
Suddenly, Celia leaped back, creating just enough distance to stay out of Graham's reach. Vel's breath caught as she assumed a stance he'd never seen before - her practice sword held horizontally above her shoulder, both hands gripping the handle with fierce intensity.
What happened next made Vel's eyes widen. Celia's arms blurred into motion, launching three lightning-fast thrusts that seemed to merge into a single strike. Graham's reaction surprised Vel even more - instead of attempting to block, the Vice Headmaster twisted away from the attack completely, as if dodging something far more dangerous than a practice sword.
Before Graham could reset his stance, Celia charged forward. Her blade whistled through the air, nearly grazing Graham's face. But the Vice Headmaster moved like water, his entire body rotating away from the strike. Celia's momentum carried her past him, and she tumbled to the ground.
She remained there, making no attempt to rise, her chest heaving with exhaustion.
Graham's voice cut through the silence. "Where did you learn that move?"
Vel watched as Celia remained on the ground, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was during a bandit raid..." Her fingers dug into the dirt. "The night Clara and I lost our parents."
A heavy silence fell over the courtyard. Vel's chest tightened as Celia continued, her words carrying the weight of painful memories.
"I was so small, but I remember my father's stance. The way he stood between us and danger." Her voice cracked. "It's the only thing I remember of him... before Clara carried me away."
Graham's stern expression softened. "Test's over. Stand up." He extended his hand, helping Celia to her feet and brushing dust from her dress with surprising gentleness.
"Pay attention," Graham said, his tone shifting to that of an instructor. He assumed the same stance Celia had attempted - sword held horizontally above his shoulder. But something changed in the air around them. Vel felt it immediately - not quite wind, but a charged sensation that made the hair on his arms stand up.
"Trinity Volt!" Graham's shout split the air. His blade blurred in what appeared to be three simultaneous thrusts, but instead of mere movement, three bolts of lightning erupted from the blade. They struck the ground nearby, leaving smoking scorch marks in their wake.
"Had that manifested from you," Graham explained, lowering his practice sword, "it would have struck me. That's why I chose to dodge rather than parry."
His lips quirked up slightly. "So that was your ruse - get me distracted for your final strike. Not bad."
Vel watched intently as Celia mirrored Graham's stance. Her breathing steadied as she raised the practice sword horizontally above her shoulder, just as Graham had demonstrated. The grip of her hands adjusted, finding the perfect balance point along the wooden blade.
Something shifted in the air around her. Vel felt it - that same electric tension he'd sensed during Graham's demonstration, but fainter, like static before a storm. The sensation prickled across his skin as Celia gathered her focus.
Her arms blurred into motion. Three precise thrusts cut through the air, each movement clean and purposeful. "Trinity Volt!" Celia's voice rang out across the courtyard.
Nothing visible manifested from her blade. No lightning, no dramatic display of power. But Vel noticed Graham's eyes narrow with interest. A tiny spark had danced along Celia's practice sword, barely visible in the afternoon light. Another flickered around her hands before dissipating into nothing.
"Interesting," Graham's voice carried a note of approval. "You need more practice, but it seems you have found a new path - one that would have taken from you." He gestured toward the side of the arena, indicating for Celia to step back.
Celia rejoined the others, her face flushed with exertion but eyes bright with newfound purpose. Graham rolled his shoulders, loosening his stance as he prepared for the next match.
"Well, I did not expect that," he said, his practice sword hanging casually at his side. "One more candidate left." His gaze fixed directly on Vel, making his stomach clench with anticipation.